Reversed Life - Rainxoxo
by TheSupremePeach
Summary: Eragon never lived in Carvahall, but his half-brother Murtagh did. Eragon took on the name of another as he bares the crest of the Empire, willingly, but will that change once he finds out for himself the choices he didn't know that exist?
1. Chapter 1

NOT MY STORY ! :^) All credit goes to Rainxoxo! It looks like Reversed Life has disappeared from the internet again (other than an an incomplete copy) so I'll be uploading it for y'alls enjoyment. The story is massive and the file formatting for the version I possess is wacky, but I'll try to get it up in my free time. I have made zero edits to anything apart from this one paragraph.

**Chapter 1**

**I do not own Eragon, but I wish I did. :) Nor do I own some of the characters in the story, a few are based off of other things that I like, for example, Gabranth, I borrowed his name and his outfit from Final Fantasy XII. I've also borrowed Bard and Finny from Black Butler, the anime, I will try to remain true to the characters and storyline with the exception of Eragon (and if you can't find out who Gabranth really is, I gave you a few hints.) Happy reading.**

Urû'baen, the black city, despite its name, was very beautiful and majestic. It was the capital of Alagaësia and in history was once known as the elves' long abandoned home, Iliera. But the most magnificent building in the city, besides the Black Citadel, was the large palace in which Galbatorix and his dragon, Shruikan, resided. Walking down the long hallways, through the stone columns on each side engraved with gold and silver, a tall armored man made his way to the throne room. Dark gray armor cloaked his body covering him entirely, and a helm covered his face, two sharp horns intricately hammered out of metal twisted on each side; a helm that had not been removed in public for over four years. A black cape was tied around the base of his neck, a red sigil on it representing the Empire.

The figure turned, standing before two colossal marble black doors. He turned to one of the guards; his already deep voice coming out deeper as it was muffled by his helm as he said, "His majesty is expecting me."

"Yes, my lord!" They saluted to him, before swinging the doors open. The throne room was grand with a white marble floor, a red carpet leading up to the golden throne. Sitting on his seat, wearing the finest armor and a white sword hanging from his hip was none other than King Galbatorix. He wasn't old. No, despite ruling Alagaësia for nearly a century, his hair was light silver and he had a matching beard. His black eyes never left the form of the tall person, a smile on his lips.

When the figure came to a stop before Galbatorix, he knelt on one knee, bringing his arm up against his chest. "Your highness," he spoke with respect.

Galbatorix's cold smile widened as he leaned forward to observe his loyal subject. Then he spoke, his voice rich and deep, unbefitting of his age. "You must be wondering why I've brought you here, Gabranth."

The figure nodded.

"You've heard of the capture of an elf by Durza, have you not?"

"I have."

"Good, that shall make things much easier," Galbatorix nodded in approval. "Durza, to my disappointment, has been unsuccessful in his endeavors to retrieve information. I am very displeased with his progress. As for the elf, I consider her useless. With the egg gone, there is no other choice for me but to send the Urgals to scout the Beor Mountains—a situation I consider most distasteful." He sighed. "As a reward for you unswerving loyalty, I would like to offer the elf to you as a gift, Gabranth. Do with her what you will. And while you're at Gil'ead, tell Durza how very disappointed I am."

"Thank you, your highness." His bowed head tilted upward as if to gaze at the king from behind his helm. "What exactly should I tell Durza?"

A cold laugh escaped his lips. "Whatever comes to mind."

"May I ask a question, your highness?"

"You may."

"Will I be appointed to lead the Urgals? Or shall Durza do it?"

"I'll have Durza handle it. But if anything goes wrong, you shall be doing it in his place. Now, I am tired. Gabranth, you are dismissed." Galbatorix gave a wave of his hand. The tall figure of Gabranth nodded before standing. He bowed one last time to Galbatorix before turning to leave, his metal boots clanking loudly on the floors as he did so.

_An elf, _a deep voice rumbled in his head, curiosity flooding his mind. _How did Durza ambush them, I wonder._

_He waited his turn and struck when the moment was right. A strategy that never fails. _He replied as he left the halls of the large palace and walked into the courtyard. A group of maids who were passing by curtsied to him before rushing inside. Gabranth made his way towards what resembled a large sapphire rock, was certainly not one. The blue hues began to move before a long neck stretched forth, blue eyes piercing him. A puff of black smoke erupted from the dragon's nostril as she snorted at the sight of him.

_Never hot are you? _Saphira asked, amusement coating her tone. He shrugged indifferently, climbing onto her saddle as he did so. _To Gil'ead, I presume?_

_Why ask if you already know?_

_It's always nice to ask,_ she answered. And with a stroke of her wings and the push of her hind legs, she dove forward into the air. The wind hissed past his helm as she accumulated height. _Are you curious as to what you might find with this elf?_

_I don't know yet. But there are some things I hope to ask her for myself. _On dragonback, Gil'ead was reachable within a day, but as they travelled Gabranth's thoughts kept on wandering back to why Galbatorix would hand over someone as valuable as the elf. If Durza had kept going then he might have been able to extract some information of the Varden's whereabouts, the elves' home, or the location of the missing red egg.

_There are some rumors going around that there is another dragon rider out there._

_The possibility is great that the egg has already hatched for someone._

_Could it be one of the Varden's people, or do you think it hatched for the elves?_

_I don't know._ They talked for a while on the possibilities of whether the dragon harbored a human or an elf as a rider. They even laughed when they thought of a dwarf being its rider. But eventually Saphira fell into her old routines of saying strange riddles to which Gabranth was always at a loss for an answer.

Eventually the sight of Gil'ead came into his line of vision and without further ado Saphira dove towards the keep, causing the soldiers to scramble out of the way to make room for her landing. _Go see the elf. Right now, I need to hunt._

_Come back safely, _he replied, as she spread her wings and took off yet again. Gabranth turned and nodded towards the soldiers who hurriedly bowed to him. Walking down the stairs of the keep, he made his way to the prison. A guard who stood inside the hall of cells bowed to him. "My lord."

"I'm here for the elf, where is she?" he asked. The guard frowned, fidgeting uneasily where he stood.

"Durza is interrogating her. He gave strict orders for no one to interfere."

"Where are they?" he repeated dangerously.

The guard stammered before answering in a small voice, "The dungeon." Gabranth nodded before leaving. Instead of making his way up through the building, he turned down the hallway and into a dark staircase. As he went lower, the sound of a whip slashing through the air floated up to him. However, the cry of pain that was expected failed to follow it. As per usual, two guards stood in front of the door, and they hurriedly bowed at his appearance.

"Lord Gabranth!" One exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" the other asked.

"I'm here for the elf." He moved forward to open the door, but the guard grabbed his arm, before realizing what he had done and dropping it again hurriedly, as if stung.

"Durza said that no one was allowed to enter unless it was the king himself."

"The king gave me orders to be here. I'm sure that topples whatever he has to say." Without waiting, Gabranth threw the door open before entering the dungeon. It was similar to any other dungeon; cold and dark, with a few candles lit up on the wall. Torture mechanisms layered the gray bricks and some tables were scattered around. To the front of the room was a flogging pole and tied to it was an elf. But then something happened that he wasn't expecting.

As he set eyes on the elf, a strange passion awoke in him as well as a burning rage he had never felt before in his entire life. She was beautiful. Her long black hair framed her angular face, marred only by a scar running from her jaw to her chin. Her eyes were slanted like a cat's, the green orbs bright with pain. Her ears tapered to points at their tips. Both her hands were tied above her head, and she was shirtless. Ignoring that fact, he closed the door, bolting it shut. Standing in front of the injured elf was a tall shade, his hair crimson bright and his maroon eyes filled with anger.

"Who gave you permission to step in here?" Durza growled, turning his attention away from the elf. Gabranth laughed mockingly.

"Permission? My title is far above yours, Durza." He answered walking forward, his cape billowing softly behind him. "And if you have to ask, the king ordered me here. He's very disappointed with the lack of information you have been able to obtain from the elf."

He let out a shout, before raising his hand with the whip. However, before he could strike, Gabranth's hand flew up to grip his in an iron clutch, preventing any movement. "My, this anger is unnecessary. Do not take your failures out on the elf." He threw Durza's arm away, "Besides, his majesty has decided that I get her."

"You?" Durza hissed. He nodded.

"The elf is now mine, and as such, you shall not touch her." letting out a frustrated yell, the shade threw down the whip and stormed out of the room. He laughed but only momentarily before turning to the injured elf. Seeing a black tunic lying on the table he grabbed it, untying her hands, he reached out and gently supported her ignoring her ice cold glare. "Such a wonderful thank you for someone who saved you. Can you put this on, or do you need me to?"

In a flurry of motions, she grabbed the tunic from his hands before donning it, when she was done, he glanced at her before, in one fluid motion, cradling her in his arms. "Stay still—you are in no condition to walk, elf."

She didn't respond, instead glancing away. Exiting the dungeon, Gabranth nodded to the two guards. Instead of bringing her back to her cell, he brought her to the room that he would usually stay in while visiting Gil'ead. Placing her on his large bed, he ignored her startled stare. With unnatural strength, he brought her tunic up over her head, baring her again from waist up. He caught her arm as it swung for his helm. "It won't do you any good if you try to attack me. You'll only injure yourself even further."

Flipping her onto her stomach, he placed his free hand on the skin. The elf's back was strong and muscled, but it was covered with scabs that made her skin look like dry, cracked mud. She had been whipped mercilessly and branded with hot irons, seemingly in the shape of claws. Where her skin was still intact, it was purple or black from numerous beatings. On her left shoulder was a tattoo inscribed with indigo ink. Durza would be punished for this. Channeling the magic into his palms, he murmured the healing spell. "Waíse heill."

A burn shimmered under his palm, and then new unmarked skin flowed over it, joining together in its place. Passing over the bruises and wounds that were not serious, he saved the muscles and inner injuries for last. When he was finally done, he threw her tunic at her.

"Here."

Turning his back, he heard the rustle of clothing before all was silent. He faced the elf once again, ignoring the curious stare in her bright green eyes. Grabbing her chin, he pulled her close to him until he could feel her breath on his helm. The scar on her face wasn't fresh. Healing it, he let go of her, watching as she rubbed the spot where he had grabbed her. "I'm hoping that those were the only injuries Durza gave you, elf."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her rich voice accented and exotic.

He chuckled. "Why indeed?" Turning from her, he went to throw the windows wide open, letting fresh air into the room. "But you didn't answer my questions, elf. Was that the only thing Durza did to you?"

Her lips formed a hard line, and she refused to answer. He sighed, calling for a maid. Instantly, a young girl walked in, curtsying as she saw him. "My lord, you called?"

"Yes, bring me the healer. Tell him to make haste, for I do not have the time to wait around forever." She nodded, curtsying one last time before leaving. When she was gone, he turned back to the elf. "If you don't want to die, I suggest you cooperate willingly."

"You give me no reason to trust you." She replied. He snorted.

"I also gave you no reason to distrust me. You see, just because I bare the crest of the Empire does not mean that I like it," said Gabranth. "By the way, what is your name?"

She didn't reply, he continued as if she did. "Well then, I will simply have to call you elf, don't I? You can call me, Eragon." Before he could stop it, the name left his lips, shocking both himself and her. The door opened and in walked a healer and the maid.

"Is there anything else you need, my lord?"

"Yes, bring some food up, but no meat," he ordered, and she nodded and left, while the healer stepped forward.

"You called for me, Lord Gabranth?" He nodded and pointed to the elf.

"Do you know of the injuries that Durza had given her?"

"I do. Every morning I would bring Durza a vial of Tunivor's Nectar to stop the Skilna Bragh's progress within her blood stream." He nodded, ordering the healer to bring her the antidote. He watched as the man hurriedly left the room to retrieve the medicine.

"Why are you helping me?" the elf repeated, staring at him as if trying to decrypt a puzzle she could not overcome. A sigh escaped his lips.

"Is it so wrong of me for wanting to help you? I've told you before I may work for Galbatorix, but that doesn't mean I do it willingly." He shrugged. "You'll be grateful when you have enough energy to escape Gil'ead. A boring place compared to your lush green forest, no?"

She didn't answer, instead continuing to stare at him. "You want me to escape?" she said slowly, as if making certain that he had truly said the words himself.

"Who said I wanted you to? But if you did, I would not try to stop you."

"You are a strange person."

"My, my, my, we're starting to have a proper conversation here." The door opened again and the healer walked in with a glass bottle in his hands containing a strange golden liquid. Taking it from him, Gabranth made his way to the elf on his bed. "Now, I will give you two choices. You drink the antidote, or I make you drink it."

When he held it out to her, she reluctantly took it before downing the bottle. When she was done, she handed it back to him. He returned it to the healer, thanking him. "It is of little consequence. If you need me, please call."

"I shall see if I can use your skills in the near future." The healer bowed in reply and left the room. He turned back to the elf. "You can rest in here. None of the guards will force themselves on you. I will call when the food is brought up so that you can eat."

"I…trust you." She said hesitantly, before lying down on the mattress pulling the covers over her. He stared for a long time at her sleeping figure before turning to the library behind him and pulling out a book to read. Nearly an hour and a half passed before the maid returned with a tray laden with food. She hurriedly placed it on his table, before making a hasty exit.

Gabranth went to wake the elf, not wanting the soup to cool. When he walked over to the side of the bed, he felt a strange feeling in his heart as he stared down at her, a feeling that he had never felt in his life. Reaching out with a hand, he gently shook the elf. "Don't sleep the whole day away. You need to eat like the rest of the world, elf."

When she blinked, he withdrew his hand strolling back to take a seat in his chair by the table. He kicked the chair opposite him outwards. "Sit down and eat." She threw him a cold glare, before with a slinking muscular grace walked over to the table and taking a seat. She must not be used to being ordered around, he assumed, as he resumed reading. "The soup will get cold if you're just going to stare at it," he said, never taking his eyes off of the page.

"Will you not eat?"

He hesitated. "I will eat when you're sleeping. I do not feel comfortable removing my helm in the presence of others." She nodded slowly, picking up the spoon and taking a sip out of the steaming vegetable soup.

"Why is that?"

He chuckled. "For someone who doesn't answer my questions, you certainly ask a lot."

"You don't have to answer if you do not wish to. If I remember correctly, I am your prisoner." He sighed, placing his book down to stare at her from the openings in his helm.

"I abandoned my identity long ago. Still, it seems that no matter how hard I try, I cannot let go of it entirely." He picked his book back up and turned the page. _You're very forthright with the elf._

_Does it matter?_ He replied.

_Of course it does! Besides to me, you're finally opening up to someone about yourself. You won't even speak a word to your mother about your reasons for half of the things you do_,Saphira replied. He glanced out the window to see a small speck in the sky. _What do you intend to do with her?_

_What else? Let her escape. I have no use for an elf_, he said.

_That simple?_

_I'm not a complicated person, you know that._

_Of course I do, that's why I do most of the thinking around these areas. I would like to meet your elf._ He bristled as Saphira labeled the elf his. _Well, she is your prisoner._

"Is something amiss?" the elf asked as she noticed his change in attitude.

"Somebody wants to meet you," He answered as a torrent of air swept through the room, blowing the pages in his book. Saphira landed next to the building, peering into the room with one of her large sapphire eyes. _Ask if I can personally speak to her. _"She wants to know if she can speak with you herself. I would be very grateful if you were to accept, for I do not enjoy playing the role of a messenger."

She nodded, seemingly trusting Saphira more than him. "You may."

He turned back to his book as the two females conversed with one another. It seemed that little by little, the elf seem to be relaxing in their presence, but still not entirely so. Caution outlined her every move, her every word. He spent the time wondering how Durza could possibly have ambushed them. When it was late, he closed his book placing it back on the bookshelf.

"It is late and you two need to sleep. Saphira, leave the elf alone." He marched up and closed the window earning a deep rumble from outside. She was amused at his antics. Before he could say another word, the elf was already climbing into his bed to sleep. _She is a very interesting person._

_Wouldn't you know? _He mumbled in his thoughts, his attention returning to the tray of food on the table. He was surprised to find a few things uneaten. The soup was gone along with an apple, but two pears and a berry cake remained. He smiled. In one swift motion, he removed his helm, placing it on the table and revealing his dark brown hair and matching brown eyes. But he didn't look like a human; no, far from it. Magic had altered his appearance until the tip of his ears became pointed, his eyes slanted, and his face more angular in shape. Bringing a pear to his mouth, he slowly ate it, savoring its sweet flavor.

_She's surprised that we serve Galbatorix even though he doesn't know our true name. Why do we, I wonder?_

_Because I have to protect my mother, you know that_, he replied, moving onto the next pear.

_Even so, don't forget that you have choices, Eragon. Do not condemn your life to this if you don't like it._

He grunted, knowing that she was right and hating her for it. Staring back at the elf, he frowned. What life was she living? Following the Varden? Fighting in a petty resistance group? What did she fight for? _Freedom, isn't that obvious?_

_At the cost of her own life? _He replied, tucking the blankets around her petite form to keep her warm. _Why am I doing this?_

_You care for her. There's no other explanation, _Saphira replied. _Isn't that wonderful?_

_If only, _he opened the window again to see her more clearly. Reaching out, he gently stroked her snout. _But I have you and my mother; what more do I need? It'll only make my life more complicated trying to protect everyone I care for._

_ You are too sweet, _she replied, her blue eyes sparkling. She blew a puff of smoke out at him. _I must sleep, little one. You get some rest too._

_Good night, then._

The following morning, he entered the room to find the elf up and studying his collection of books. In his hands was a tray of food. "Good morning, it would seem." He greeted, catching sight of her. "How are you feeling, elf?"

She didn't reply, but instead pulled out a large voluminous book with the words on the spine faded out. He placed the tray on the table. "No thank you for bringing you breakfast or letting you sleep in my very spacious room?"

She glared at him. Gabranth sighed. "Is a thank you a little too much above your standards? You must be treated like a princess in Du Weldenvarden." He didn't notice how her back stiffened, handing her a salad. "Eat up; you need to regain your strength, don't you?"

She accepted it, her curious stare returning. "Why are you helping me so much?"

Gabranth folded his arms and leaned forward as if to study her from behind his helm. "Galbatorix gave you to me as a gift, and what use do I have for an elf? I would rather you escape than watch over you for the rest of my life. You're not doing any good sitting here talking to me. You have to help the Varden defeat Galbatorix, right?"

"Eventually, that would put us on different sides during war," she warned. He let out a laugh.

"Then please, take it easy on me. It would be poor thanks if you ended up killing your rescuer." She frowned at his light attitude.

"Why do you serve Galbatorix?" His light mood suddenly vanished. He refused to answer her. She, however, was not fazed by his silence, and simply continued eating. As they sat there in silence, the door opened and in walked Durza, a smile of triumph spread across his face. It faltered when he saw the elf, healthy and eating.

"I don't remember giving you the rights to enter my room as you please, Durza. Please do knock the next time," Gabranth warned, as he stood to speak to the shade.

"I do apologize, Gabranth," Durza said mockingly, before turning to the elf. "My, isn't his lordship treating you well?"

"Do not waste my time with idle chatter. Has something gone amiss?" His maroon eyes sparkled as he leaned in to whisper to Gabranth softly.

"We've caught a dragon rider, and wouldn't you like to know, it's your half-brother." At this, Gabranth immediately stiffened, nodding to Durza. "I assume you shall go to visit him?"

His voice was harsh and cold as he spoke, surprising the elf, who had but only seen his compassionate side. "Do not worry. I will be down shortly. I think thanks are in order. His majesty will be most pleased indeed."

"Maybe my title will be higher than yours in a few weeks." With that Durza left, sneering at the elf on his way out. _A dragon rider!_

_The egg the elf has been carrying must have hatched._ Eragon concluded, staring at the elf as she ate. _Maybe if we—_

_Eragon! If Galbatorix found out were you to do that, you know what he would do to you._

_Then maybe I might have a just excuse to join the Varden. _At this Saphira quieted, he could hear the gears turning in her head before a deep rumble filled the air at her sudden cheeriness.

_And I thought you liked to keep it simple!_

_Most of the _time, he joked, a faint smile twitching on his lips at her giddiness. He turned to the elf, "If I leave, I want you to swear that you won't escape; it will be a tiring situation to have to prevent the guards from killing you."

A strange emotion passed between her bright green orbs, but she nodded. Reassured, Gabranth left the room, making his way to the cells. "Where is the rider?" he asked a nearby guard. The man immediately led him to the first cell on the right, swinging it open. Sitting on his cot, with dark black hair and gray eyes, was none other than Murtagh. Seeing him made Gabranth's blood boil. He had been protected by their mother. She had left him to live peacefully in who knows where while he had to suffer Galbatorix's wrath. It was almost unfair.

"What do you want?" Murtagh asked harshly. He clenched his hand to keep from hitting something.

"For a prisoner, you are rather bold." He said coolly.

Murtagh snorted, unfazed. "I am not afraid of death."

"But if you were to die, then where would that leave your beloved dragon?" Gabranth asked, shocking his half-brother with something he had yet to think about. "So I suggest you hold your tongue while speaking. Durza may not be as forgiving as I am."

"Why are you here?"

Instead of answering him, Gabranth walked forward, leaning closely down to his ear. "If you want to escape, don't eat the food. Drugs." Straightening, he turned saying rather loudly in a harsh voice. "Do not think yourself superior, Murtagh. Your father may have been Morzan, but that won't save your life."

With that he left the cell, motioning for the guard to lock the door. He wasn't surprised to find Durza standing there, waiting for him with a smile. "That short of a visit?"

He scoffed. "I would rather not see his face. I might end up staining my blade with his blood. And who knows what else? Keep a good eye on him Durza; I wouldn't want this prisoner under my care."

Ascending the spiral stone staircase, he sighed. It just keeps on getting better and better. _You're letting him escape?_

_I may hate him, but I wouldn't want him to live like I do._

_Neither do you._

_Saphira…I'll think about it_, Eragon replied, trying to keep their argument at bay. Entering the room, he found the elf sitting on his bed reading. She glanced up as he entered but soon returned to what she was doing. Going over to her, he grabbed the book from her hands, tossing it to the side before gripping one of her wrists. "You need to escape with the rider."

Her eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Rider?"

"Yes, rider! Murtagh, I'm sure you've heard of him. You need to get out with him before Durza gets the chance to bring him to Urû'baen." He dragged her off the bed and out of the room towards the cells. Ignoring the looks of wonder on the guards' faces, he discreetly gestured to Murtagh's cell before roughly shoving her into her old one. "Sorry. Do it tomorrow, and leave as fast as you can!"

"What about you?" he stopped surprised, before bowing his head to her.

"I am grateful that you care, but I can handle myself." With that, he closed the door to her cell. Seeing Durza at the end of the hall, he snorted. "It seems that the elf was more troublesome than I had thought that she would be."

"Tired already?"

"I don't have a preference for torture, and talking to her kindly makes me tired," Gabranth replied as he left, leaving a laughing Durza in his wake. Lying was almost too easy. Now, to give the elf a little present.

When next morning came, he was prepared for what was going to happen that day. As night time fell, he wasn't surprised when he heard shouts come from the cell area. He stopped Durza who had just run past him. "Take care of this; if it's lost the king will have my head! I trust it to no other!" He ran past the shade who nodded and down into the hallways. Bodies littered the floor, blood painting the walls and cemented ground.

There was no sight of the Murtagh or the elf at their cells. "They're not here, Durza!" he yelled, using magic to raise his voice.

"I've found them!" came his dark reply. He hurriedly rushed up the steps towards the banquet room; a loud cry of agony filled his ears. They must have taken out Durza. Running into the room, he stopped at the sight of an old man sitting on a red dragon. As he slowly realized who it was, anger filled him beyond anything, despite the relief he felt as he saw that in the elf's hands was a green stone. Everything else was pushed towards the back of his mind as anger and hatred clouded his senses.

"Give me that!" he roared at a nearby soldier, grabbing his bow and his quiver of arrows. Stringing three arrows, he aimed it towards the old man. "Brisingr!" With a rush of air, the three arrows burst into flames. Losing them, he watched as they headed straight for the man until green magic thwarted their path. He glared at the elf. He could see confusion in her eyes at his abrupt anger but ignored it. At his frustration, a roar escaped his lips, surprising everyone in sight. No one had ever seen him lose his temper before. _Saphira!_

There was no response. Instantly, fear clouded him. "Saphira!" he yelled, running over to the broken wall as the red dragon took off. He glanced out to find her fast asleep. She couldn't just be sleeping though, she would normally still respond to him. Damn it! He must have used magic on her! Jumping from the top of the high wall, he landed on the ground, ignoring the soldiers' calls, and ran towards her. "Saphira," he called again, gently stroking her snout. The only response she gave was a puff of smoke.

The following day, a messenger arrived with a letter from his mother. There was only one sentence on it. _I've left for the Varden._

**UPDATE 08/07/2014: Since the story is coming to an end, another author has decided to Re-Beta this story to make it error free for you all. That in itself is a pretty amazing task seeing as this story is a hundred chapters long and the word length is no little number! So let's all thank **_Psycho the. psychotherapist _**for taking time to make this story spotless! Thanks you, new Beta!**

Chapter 1

**I do not own Eragon, but I wish I did. :) Nor do I own some of the characters in the story, a few are based off of other things that I like, for example, Gabranth, I borrowed his name and his outfit from Final Fantasy XII. I've also borrowed Bard and Finny from Black Butler, the anime, I will try to remain true to the characters and storyline with the exception of Eragon (and if you can't find out who Gabranth really is, I gave you a few hints.) Happy reading.**

Urû'baen, the black city, despite its name, was very beautiful and majestic. It was the capital of Alagaësia and in history was once known as the elves' long abandoned home, Iliera. But the most magnificent building in the city, besides the Black Citadel, was the large palace in which Galbatorix and his dragon, Shruikan, resided. Walking down the long hallways, through the stone columns on each side engraved with gold and silver, a tall armored man made his way to the throne room. Dark gray armor cloaked his body covering him entirely, and a helm covered his face, two sharp horns intricately hammered out of metal twisted on each side; a helm that had not been removed in public for over four years. A black cape was tied around the base of his neck, a red sigil on it representing the Empire.

The figure turned, standing before two colossal marble black doors. He turned to one of the guards; his already deep voice coming out deeper as it was muffled by his helm as he said, "His majesty is expecting me."

"Yes, my lord!" They saluted to him, before swinging the doors open. The throne room was grand with a white marble floor, a red carpet leading up to the golden throne. Sitting on his seat, wearing the finest armor and a white sword hanging from his hip was none other than King Galbatorix. He wasn't old. No, despite ruling Alagaësia for nearly a century, his hair was light silver and he had a matching beard. His black eyes never left the form of the tall person, a smile on his lips.

When the figure came to a stop before Galbatorix, he knelt on one knee, bringing his arm up against his chest. "Your highness," he spoke with respect.

Galbatorix's cold smile widened as he leaned forward to observe his loyal subject. Then he spoke, his voice rich and deep, unbefitting of his age. "You must be wondering why I've brought you here, Gabranth."

The figure nodded.

"You've heard of the capture of an elf by Durza, have you not?"

"I have."

"Good, that shall make things much easier," Galbatorix nodded in approval. "Durza, to my disappointment, has been unsuccessful in his endeavors to retrieve information. I am very displeased with his progress. As for the elf, I consider her useless. With the egg gone, there is no other choice for me but to send the Urgals to scout the Beor Mountains—a situation I consider most distasteful." He sighed. "As a reward for you unswerving loyalty, I would like to offer the elf to you as a gift, Gabranth. Do with her what you will. And while you're at Gil'ead, tell Durza how very disappointed I am."

"Thank you, your highness." His bowed head tilted upward as if to gaze at the king from behind his helm. "What exactly should I tell Durza?"

A cold laugh escaped his lips. "Whatever comes to mind."

"May I ask a question, your highness?"

"You may."

"Will I be appointed to lead the Urgals? Or shall Durza do it?"

"I'll have Durza handle it. But if anything goes wrong, you shall be doing it in his place. Now, I am tired. Gabranth, you are dismissed." Galbatorix gave a wave of his hand. The tall figure of Gabranth nodded before standing. He bowed one last time to Galbatorix before turning to leave, his metal boots clanking loudly on the floors as he did so.

_An elf, _a deep voice rumbled in his head, curiosity flooding his mind. _How did Durza ambush them, I wonder._

_He waited his turn and struck when the moment was right. A strategy that never fails. _He replied as he left the halls of the large palace and walked into the courtyard. A group of maids who were passing by curtsied to him before rushing inside. Gabranth made his way towards what resembled a large sapphire rock, was certainly not one. The blue hues began to move before a long neck stretched forth, blue eyes piercing him. A puff of black smoke erupted from the dragon's nostril as she snorted at the sight of him.

_Never hot are you? _Saphira asked, amusement coating her tone. He shrugged indifferently, climbing onto her saddle as he did so. _To Gil'ead, I presume?_

_Why ask if you already know?_

_It's always nice to ask,_ she answered. And with a stroke of her wings and the push of her hind legs, she dove forward into the air. The wind hissed past his helm as she accumulated height. _Are you curious as to what you might find with this elf?_

_I don't know yet. But there are some things I hope to ask her for myself. _On dragonback, Gil'ead was reachable within a day, but as they travelled Gabranth's thoughts kept on wandering back to why Galbatorix would hand over someone as valuable as the elf. If Durza had kept going then he might have been able to extract some information of the Varden's whereabouts, the elves' home, or the location of the missing red egg.

_There are some rumors going around that there is another dragon rider out there._

_The possibility is great that the egg has already hatched for someone._

_Could it be one of the Varden's people, or do you think it hatched for the elves?_

_I don't know._ They talked for a while on the possibilities of whether the dragon harbored a human or an elf as a rider. They even laughed when they thought of a dwarf being its rider. But eventually Saphira fell into her old routines of saying strange riddles to which Gabranth was always at a loss for an answer.

Eventually the sight of Gil'ead came into his line of vision and without further ado Saphira dove towards the keep, causing the soldiers to scramble out of the way to make room for her landing. _Go see the elf. Right now, I need to hunt._

_Come back safely, _he replied, as she spread her wings and took off yet again. Gabranth turned and nodded towards the soldiers who hurriedly bowed to him. Walking down the stairs of the keep, he made his way to the prison. A guard who stood inside the hall of cells bowed to him. "My lord."

"I'm here for the elf, where is she?" he asked. The guard frowned, fidgeting uneasily where he stood.

"Durza is interrogating her. He gave strict orders for no one to interfere."

"Where are they?" he repeated dangerously.

The guard stammered before answering in a small voice, "The dungeon." Gabranth nodded before leaving. Instead of making his way up through the building, he turned down the hallway and into a dark staircase. As he went lower, the sound of a whip slashing through the air floated up to him. However, the cry of pain that was expected failed to follow it. As per usual, two guards stood in front of the door, and they hurriedly bowed at his appearance.

"Lord Gabranth!" One exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" the other asked.

"I'm here for the elf." He moved forward to open the door, but the guard grabbed his arm, before realizing what he had done and dropping it again hurriedly, as if stung.

"Durza said that no one was allowed to enter unless it was the king himself."

"The king gave me orders to be here. I'm sure that topples whatever he has to say." Without waiting, Gabranth threw the door open before entering the dungeon. It was similar to any other dungeon; cold and dark, with a few candles lit up on the wall. Torture mechanisms layered the gray bricks and some tables were scattered around. To the front of the room was a flogging pole and tied to it was an elf. But then something happened that he wasn't expecting.

As he set eyes on the elf, a strange passion awoke in him as well as a burning rage he had never felt before in his entire life. She was beautiful. Her long black hair framed her angular face, marred only by a scar running from her jaw to her chin. Her eyes were slanted like a cat's, the green orbs bright with pain. Her ears tapered to points at their tips. Both her hands were tied above her head, and she was shirtless. Ignoring that fact, he closed the door, bolting it shut. Standing in front of the injured elf was a tall shade, his hair crimson bright and his maroon eyes filled with anger.

"Who gave you permission to step in here?" Durza growled, turning his attention away from the elf. Gabranth laughed mockingly.

"Permission? My title is far above yours, Durza." He answered walking forward, his cape billowing softly behind him. "And if you have to ask, the king ordered me here. He's very disappointed with the lack of information you have been able to obtain from the elf."

He let out a shout, before raising his hand with the whip. However, before he could strike, Gabranth's hand flew up to grip his in an iron clutch, preventing any movement. "My, this anger is unnecessary. Do not take your failures out on the elf." He threw Durza's arm away, "Besides, his majesty has decided that I get her."

"You?" Durza hissed. He nodded.

"The elf is now mine, and as such, you shall not touch her." letting out a frustrated yell, the shade threw down the whip and stormed out of the room. He laughed but only momentarily before turning to the injured elf. Seeing a black tunic lying on the table he grabbed it, untying her hands, he reached out and gently supported her ignoring her ice cold glare. "Such a wonderful thank you for someone who saved you. Can you put this on, or do you need me to?"

In a flurry of motions, she grabbed the tunic from his hands before donning it, when she was done, he glanced at her before, in one fluid motion, cradling her in his arms. "Stay still—you are in no condition to walk, elf."

She didn't respond, instead glancing away. Exiting the dungeon, Gabranth nodded to the two guards. Instead of bringing her back to her cell, he brought her to the room that he would usually stay in while visiting Gil'ead. Placing her on his large bed, he ignored her startled stare. With unnatural strength, he brought her tunic up over her head, baring her again from waist up. He caught her arm as it swung for his helm. "It won't do you any good if you try to attack me. You'll only injure yourself even further."

Flipping her onto her stomach, he placed his free hand on the skin. The elf's back was strong and muscled, but it was covered with scabs that made her skin look like dry, cracked mud. She had been whipped mercilessly and branded with hot irons, seemingly in the shape of claws. Where her skin was still intact, it was purple or black from numerous beatings. On her left shoulder was a tattoo inscribed with indigo ink. Durza would be punished for this. Channeling the magic into his palms, he murmured the healing spell. "Waíse heill."

A burn shimmered under his palm, and then new unmarked skin flowed over it, joining together in its place. Passing over the bruises and wounds that were not serious, he saved the muscles and inner injuries for last. When he was finally done, he threw her tunic at her.

"Here."

Turning his back, he heard the rustle of clothing before all was silent. He faced the elf once again, ignoring the curious stare in her bright green eyes. Grabbing her chin, he pulled her close to him until he could feel her breath on his helm. The scar on her face wasn't fresh. Healing it, he let go of her, watching as she rubbed the spot where he had grabbed her. "I'm hoping that those were the only injuries Durza gave you, elf."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her rich voice accented and exotic.

He chuckled. "Why indeed?" Turning from her, he went to throw the windows wide open, letting fresh air into the room. "But you didn't answer my questions, elf. Was that the only thing Durza did to you?"

Her lips formed a hard line, and she refused to answer. He sighed, calling for a maid. Instantly, a young girl walked in, curtsying as she saw him. "My lord, you called?"

"Yes, bring me the healer. Tell him to make haste, for I do not have the time to wait around forever." She nodded, curtsying one last time before leaving. When she was gone, he turned back to the elf. "If you don't want to die, I suggest you cooperate willingly."

"You give me no reason to trust you." She replied. He snorted.

"I also gave you no reason to distrust me. You see, just because I bare the crest of the Empire does not mean that I like it," said Gabranth. "By the way, what is your name?"

She didn't reply, he continued as if she did. "Well then, I will simply have to call you elf, don't I? You can call me, Eragon." Before he could stop it, the name left his lips, shocking both himself and her. The door opened and in walked a healer and the maid.

"Is there anything else you need, my lord?"

"Yes, bring some food up, but no meat," he ordered, and she nodded and left, while the healer stepped forward.

"You called for me, Lord Gabranth?" He nodded and pointed to the elf.

"Do you know of the injuries that Durza had given her?"

"I do. Every morning I would bring Durza a vial of Tunivor's Nectar to stop the Skilna Bragh's progress within her blood stream." He nodded, ordering the healer to bring her the antidote. He watched as the man hurriedly left the room to retrieve the medicine.

"Why are you helping me?" the elf repeated, staring at him as if trying to decrypt a puzzle she could not overcome. A sigh escaped his lips.

"Is it so wrong of me for wanting to help you? I've told you before I may work for Galbatorix, but that doesn't mean I do it willingly." He shrugged. "You'll be grateful when you have enough energy to escape Gil'ead. A boring place compared to your lush green forest, no?"

She didn't answer, instead continuing to stare at him. "You want me to escape?" she said slowly, as if making certain that he had truly said the words himself.

"Who said I wanted you to? But if you did, I would not try to stop you."

"You are a strange person."

"My, my, my, we're starting to have a proper conversation here." The door opened again and the healer walked in with a glass bottle in his hands containing a strange golden liquid. Taking it from him, Gabranth made his way to the elf on his bed. "Now, I will give you two choices. You drink the antidote, or I make you drink it."

When he held it out to her, she reluctantly took it before downing the bottle. When she was done, she handed it back to him. He returned it to the healer, thanking him. "It is of little consequence. If you need me, please call."

"I shall see if I can use your skills in the near future." The healer bowed in reply and left the room. He turned back to the elf. "You can rest in here. None of the guards will force themselves on you. I will call when the food is brought up so that you can eat."

"I…trust you." She said hesitantly, before lying down on the mattress pulling the covers over her. He stared for a long time at her sleeping figure before turning to the library behind him and pulling out a book to read. Nearly an hour and a half passed before the maid returned with a tray laden with food. She hurriedly placed it on his table, before making a hasty exit.

Gabranth went to wake the elf, not wanting the soup to cool. When he walked over to the side of the bed, he felt a strange feeling in his heart as he stared down at her, a feeling that he had never felt in his life. Reaching out with a hand, he gently shook the elf. "Don't sleep the whole day away. You need to eat like the rest of the world, elf."

When she blinked, he withdrew his hand strolling back to take a seat in his chair by the table. He kicked the chair opposite him outwards. "Sit down and eat." She threw him a cold glare, before with a slinking muscular grace walked over to the table and taking a seat. She must not be used to being ordered around, he assumed, as he resumed reading. "The soup will get cold if you're just going to stare at it," he said, never taking his eyes off of the page.

"Will you not eat?"

He hesitated. "I will eat when you're sleeping. I do not feel comfortable removing my helm in the presence of others." She nodded slowly, picking up the spoon and taking a sip out of the steaming vegetable soup.

"Why is that?"

He chuckled. "For someone who doesn't answer my questions, you certainly ask a lot."

"You don't have to answer if you do not wish to. If I remember correctly, I am your prisoner." He sighed, placing his book down to stare at her from the openings in his helm.

"I abandoned my identity long ago. Still, it seems that no matter how hard I try, I cannot let go of it entirely." He picked his book back up and turned the page. _You're very forthright with the elf._

_Does it matter?_ He replied.

_Of course it does! Besides to me, you're finally opening up to someone about yourself. You won't even speak a word to your mother about your reasons for half of the things you do_,Saphira replied. He glanced out the window to see a small speck in the sky. _What do you intend to do with her?_

_What else? Let her escape. I have no use for an elf_, he said.

_That simple?_

_I'm not a complicated person, you know that._

_Of course I do, that's why I do most of the thinking around these areas. I would like to meet your elf._ He bristled as Saphira labeled the elf his. _Well, she is your prisoner._

"Is something amiss?" the elf asked as she noticed his change in attitude.

"Somebody wants to meet you," He answered as a torrent of air swept through the room, blowing the pages in his book. Saphira landed next to the building, peering into the room with one of her large sapphire eyes. _Ask if I can personally speak to her. _"She wants to know if she can speak with you herself. I would be very grateful if you were to accept, for I do not enjoy playing the role of a messenger."

She nodded, seemingly trusting Saphira more than him. "You may."

He turned back to his book as the two females conversed with one another. It seemed that little by little, the elf seem to be relaxing in their presence, but still not entirely so. Caution outlined her every move, her every word. He spent the time wondering how Durza could possibly have ambushed them. When it was late, he closed his book placing it back on the bookshelf.

"It is late and you two need to sleep. Saphira, leave the elf alone." He marched up and closed the window earning a deep rumble from outside. She was amused at his antics. Before he could say another word, the elf was already climbing into his bed to sleep. _She is a very interesting person._

_Wouldn't you know? _He mumbled in his thoughts, his attention returning to the tray of food on the table. He was surprised to find a few things uneaten. The soup was gone along with an apple, but two pears and a berry cake remained. He smiled. In one swift motion, he removed his helm, placing it on the table and revealing his dark brown hair and matching brown eyes. But he didn't look like a human; no, far from it. Magic had altered his appearance until the tip of his ears became pointed, his eyes slanted, and his face more angular in shape. Bringing a pear to his mouth, he slowly ate it, savoring its sweet flavor.

_She's surprised that we serve Galbatorix even though he doesn't know our true name. Why do we, I wonder?_

_Because I have to protect my mother, you know that_, he replied, moving onto the next pear.

_Even so, don't forget that you have choices, Eragon. Do not condemn your life to this if you don't like it._

He grunted, knowing that she was right and hating her for it. Staring back at the elf, he frowned. What life was she living? Following the Varden? Fighting in a petty resistance group? What did she fight for? _Freedom, isn't that obvious?_

_At the cost of her own life? _He replied, tucking the blankets around her petite form to keep her warm. _Why am I doing this?_

_You care for her. There's no other explanation, _Saphira replied. _Isn't that wonderful?_

_If only, _he opened the window again to see her more clearly. Reaching out, he gently stroked her snout. _But I have you and my mother; what more do I need? It'll only make my life more complicated trying to protect everyone I care for._

_ You are too sweet, _she replied, her blue eyes sparkling. She blew a puff of smoke out at him. _I must sleep, little one. You get some rest too._

_Good night, then._

The following morning, he entered the room to find the elf up and studying his collection of books. In his hands was a tray of food. "Good morning, it would seem." He greeted, catching sight of her. "How are you feeling, elf?"

She didn't reply, but instead pulled out a large voluminous book with the words on the spine faded out. He placed the tray on the table. "No thank you for bringing you breakfast or letting you sleep in my very spacious room?"

She glared at him. Gabranth sighed. "Is a thank you a little too much above your standards? You must be treated like a princess in Du Weldenvarden." He didn't notice how her back stiffened, handing her a salad. "Eat up; you need to regain your strength, don't you?"

She accepted it, her curious stare returning. "Why are you helping me so much?"

Gabranth folded his arms and leaned forward as if to study her from behind his helm. "Galbatorix gave you to me as a gift, and what use do I have for an elf? I would rather you escape than watch over you for the rest of my life. You're not doing any good sitting here talking to me. You have to help the Varden defeat Galbatorix, right?"

"Eventually, that would put us on different sides during war," she warned. He let out a laugh.

"Then please, take it easy on me. It would be poor thanks if you ended up killing your rescuer." She frowned at his light attitude.

"Why do you serve Galbatorix?" His light mood suddenly vanished. He refused to answer her. She, however, was not fazed by his silence, and simply continued eating. As they sat there in silence, the door opened and in walked Durza, a smile of triumph spread across his face. It faltered when he saw the elf, healthy and eating.

"I don't remember giving you the rights to enter my room as you please, Durza. Please do knock the next time," Gabranth warned, as he stood to speak to the shade.

"I do apologize, Gabranth," Durza said mockingly, before turning to the elf. "My, isn't his lordship treating you well?"

"Do not waste my time with idle chatter. Has something gone amiss?" His maroon eyes sparkled as he leaned in to whisper to Gabranth softly.

"We've caught a dragon rider, and wouldn't you like to know, it's your half-brother." At this, Gabranth immediately stiffened, nodding to Durza. "I assume you shall go to visit him?"

His voice was harsh and cold as he spoke, surprising the elf, who had but only seen his compassionate side. "Do not worry. I will be down shortly. I think thanks are in order. His majesty will be most pleased indeed."

"Maybe my title will be higher than yours in a few weeks." With that Durza left, sneering at the elf on his way out. _A dragon rider!_

_The egg the elf has been carrying must have hatched._ Eragon concluded, staring at the elf as she ate. _Maybe if we—_

_Eragon! If Galbatorix found out were you to do that, you know what he would do to you._

_Then maybe I might have a just excuse to join the Varden. _At this Saphira quieted, he could hear the gears turning in her head before a deep rumble filled the air at her sudden cheeriness.

_And I thought you liked to keep it simple!_

_Most of the _time, he joked, a faint smile twitching on his lips at her giddiness. He turned to the elf, "If I leave, I want you to swear that you won't escape; it will be a tiring situation to have to prevent the guards from killing you."

A strange emotion passed between her bright green orbs, but she nodded. Reassured, Gabranth left the room, making his way to the cells. "Where is the rider?" he asked a nearby guard. The man immediately led him to the first cell on the right, swinging it open. Sitting on his cot, with dark black hair and gray eyes, was none other than Murtagh. Seeing him made Gabranth's blood boil. He had been protected by their mother. She had left him to live peacefully in who knows where while he had to suffer Galbatorix's wrath. It was almost unfair.

"What do you want?" Murtagh asked harshly. He clenched his hand to keep from hitting something.

"For a prisoner, you are rather bold." He said coolly.

Murtagh snorted, unfazed. "I am not afraid of death."

"But if you were to die, then where would that leave your beloved dragon?" Gabranth asked, shocking his half-brother with something he had yet to think about. "So I suggest you hold your tongue while speaking. Durza may not be as forgiving as I am."

"Why are you here?"

Instead of answering him, Gabranth walked forward, leaning closely down to his ear. "If you want to escape, don't eat the food. Drugs." Straightening, he turned saying rather loudly in a harsh voice. "Do not think yourself superior, Murtagh. Your father may have been Morzan, but that won't save your life."

With that he left the cell, motioning for the guard to lock the door. He wasn't surprised to find Durza standing there, waiting for him with a smile. "That short of a visit?"

He scoffed. "I would rather not see his face. I might end up staining my blade with his blood. And who knows what else? Keep a good eye on him Durza; I wouldn't want this prisoner under my care."

Ascending the spiral stone staircase, he sighed. It just keeps on getting better and better. _You're letting him escape?_

_I may hate him, but I wouldn't want him to live like I do._

_Neither do you._

_Saphira…I'll think about it_, Eragon replied, trying to keep their argument at bay. Entering the room, he found the elf sitting on his bed reading. She glanced up as he entered but soon returned to what she was doing. Going over to her, he grabbed the book from her hands, tossing it to the side before gripping one of her wrists. "You need to escape with the rider."

Her eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Rider?"

"Yes, rider! Murtagh, I'm sure you've heard of him. You need to get out with him before Durza gets the chance to bring him to Urû'baen." He dragged her off the bed and out of the room towards the cells. Ignoring the looks of wonder on the guards' faces, he discreetly gestured to Murtagh's cell before roughly shoving her into her old one. "Sorry. Do it tomorrow, and leave as fast as you can!"

"What about you?" he stopped surprised, before bowing his head to her.

"I am grateful that you care, but I can handle myself." With that, he closed the door to her cell. Seeing Durza at the end of the hall, he snorted. "It seems that the elf was more troublesome than I had thought that she would be."

"Tired already?"

"I don't have a preference for torture, and talking to her kindly makes me tired," Gabranth replied as he left, leaving a laughing Durza in his wake. Lying was almost too easy. Now, to give the elf a little present.

When next morning came, he was prepared for what was going to happen that day. As night time fell, he wasn't surprised when he heard shouts come from the cell area. He stopped Durza who had just run past him. "Take care of this; if it's lost the king will have my head! I trust it to no other!" He ran past the shade who nodded and down into the hallways. Bodies littered the floor, blood painting the walls and cemented ground.

There was no sight of the Murtagh or the elf at their cells. "They're not here, Durza!" he yelled, using magic to raise his voice.

"I've found them!" came his dark reply. He hurriedly rushed up the steps towards the banquet room; a loud cry of agony filled his ears. They must have taken out Durza. Running into the room, he stopped at the sight of an old man sitting on a red dragon. As he slowly realized who it was, anger filled him beyond anything, despite the relief he felt as he saw that in the elf's hands was a green stone. Everything else was pushed towards the back of his mind as anger and hatred clouded his senses.

"Give me that!" he roared at a nearby soldier, grabbing his bow and his quiver of arrows. Stringing three arrows, he aimed it towards the old man. "Brisingr!" With a rush of air, the three arrows burst into flames. Losing them, he watched as they headed straight for the man until green magic thwarted their path. He glared at the elf. He could see confusion in her eyes at his abrupt anger but ignored it. At his frustration, a roar escaped his lips, surprising everyone in sight. No one had ever seen him lose his temper before. _Saphira!_

There was no response. Instantly, fear clouded him. "Saphira!" he yelled, running over to the broken wall as the red dragon took off. He glanced out to find her fast asleep. She couldn't just be sleeping though, she would normally still respond to him. Damn it! He must have used magic on her! Jumping from the top of the high wall, he landed on the ground, ignoring the soldiers' calls, and ran towards her. "Saphira," he called again, gently stroking her snout. The only response she gave was a puff of smoke.

The following day, a messenger arrived with a letter from his mother. There was only one sentence on it. _I've left for the Varden._

**UPDATE 08/07/2014: Since the story is coming to an end, another author has decided to Re-Beta this story to make it error free for you all. That in itself is a pretty amazing task seeing as this story is a hundred chapters long and the word length is no little number! So let's all thank **_Psycho the. psychotherapist _**for taking time to make this story spotless! Thanks you, new Beta!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**This chapter isn't as long as my first but I'm going to try to keep my chapters in the 3,000-5,000 word range. I don't like writing short chapters. Also, there aren't going to be many chapters with Murtagh because I don't know him enough to write about him and stay true to his character. The next chapter will be about Eragon. But anyway, happy reading and I don't own Eragon but I wish I did. Read&Review!**

After some labored flying, Thorn was able to rest in a clearing a league away from Gil'ead. Picketed in the clearing were Snowfire and Cadoc, who snorted nervously at Thorn's seemingly abrupt appearance. Murtagh immediately slid to the ground, and attended to Thorn, looking for potential injuries while Brom readied the horses with the elf woman who had aided in their escape. For some reason, the elf in question had looked reluctant to leave Gil'ead. _It must have been the drugs_, Murtagh thought, shaking his head. Why would she want to stay in the Empire?

_I'm not hurt_, Thorn's deep voice rumbled in his mind. _I'm just tired._

_Thank the gods above, _saidMurtagh, breathing a sigh of relief before fiercely hugging his dragon around the neck. _Thank you, what you did was incredible, Thorn. I will never forget it._

_You can thank me by staying out of harm's way. If Brom hadn't been able to give that dragon such a large dose of his sleeping potion, I do not think I could have stood up to her; she was many times my size. I'm sure she would've chased us all the way to the Varden._

At that, Murtagh hesitated, remembering the words that the tall armored man had spoken to him when he was still locked in his cell. _I don't think so._ At this he shared the memory with Thorn, who seemed intrigued by the revelation.

"Murtagh!" He turned as Brom came up behind him.

"What?"

"What? What do you mean, what?" Brom asked incredulously. "After all I went through to get you out of that hole, that is the first thing you say to me?"

He immediately backtracked at the old man's anger. "Sorry! Sorry! I'm just a little jumpy right now."

"Aren't we all?" He glanced at Thorn. "How's he holding up?"

"He'll be fine, he's just tired." Murtagh said, running a hand over Thorn's ruby red scales. Brom gave him a sympathetic look.

"He'll have to carry you for a little longer. We have to get as far away from Gil'ead as possible. I'm not sure how long the sleeping potion I gave that dragon will last, not to mention that Durza might be on our trail," Brom explained. At this, Thorn got to his feet, crouching for Murtagh to climb up onto his makeshift saddle. "We'll follow you from below."

"If there's any trouble, tell me." Murtagh said as Thorn pushed off of the ground with his hind-legs. As they flew, he chanced a glance back in the direction they came from, half expecting a large blue dragon to be on their tail, a fearsome man riding atop of it.

_That dragon was much larger than me. I could not have beaten her._ He could hear the slight sense of shame in Thorn's thoughts, for if he and the blue dragon were to go up against each other, Thorn would certainly lose because of his size and lack of experience in battle.

_Remember that you will eventually grow as big, Thorn._

_Yes, but that dragon will also be growing as well. Unless we receive proper training, we cannot fight such opponents as those and expect to win._

Acknowledging Thorn's statement, Murtagh finally realized something that was bothering him. _How do you know the dragon was a female?_

Thorn grumbled, amused at his question. _I can tell the differences in genders of my own race._

Despite the fact that they were degrading their skills, Murtagh knew that Thorn was right. The blue dragon and her Rider must be very skilled, with Galbatorix himself as their master. They were no doubt much stronger and more experienced than both Murtagh and Thorn. At the thought of the Rider, he felt an odd curiosity swell inside him.

_He had wanted me to escape, had given me the vital information I needed to leave Gil'ead. So why did he erupt into such a fury when Thorn had arrived? We did poison his dragon with the sleeping potion…_

_Or it could be that the elf escaped with the egg_, Thorn chimed in, after a while of flying.

_I don't think it was, in that case he would have been aiming for her instead of Brom._ That was right, when the armored man caught sight of Brom; he had immediately sprung into action, grabbing a bow and quiver from a nearby soldier. He'd been so intent on killing Brom that, Murtagh thought with a jolt, if the elf hadn't been there, he would have surely died. There must be something between them for him to hate Brom that much.

_Perhaps…we'll have to ask Brom what he knows._

They traveled through the night, not stopping, even when their flagging strength began to slow them. They continued onward, despite burning eyes and clumsy movements. Below and behind them, lines of torch-bearing horsemen could be seen searching around Gil'ead for their trail. After many bleary hours, dawn finally began to lighten the sky. _Land, we have to make camp. I'm afraid that if we travel any further, it might drive the horses to death, _Brom's voice echoed in his mind.

He was so tired that he didn't have the energy to even try to block out Brom with his mind. _I'll have to be more alert next time_, thought Murtagh. They followed Brom's directions, and found the horses drinking from a stream at the base of a small cliff. Brom and the elf were sitting against the rock surface, seemingly discussing something in hushed voices. They immediately glanced up at Thorn and Murtagh's arrival. Brom stood while the elf did not move from her seat. "Glad to be out of that, aren't we?" Brom said with a grim smile, handing him a fresh apple. He didn't bother asking where the old man had gotten it but instead gratefully took it while Thorn went to drink from the stream, startling the horses. Luckily the horses had gotten somewhat used to the presence of the dragon, but evidently still not enough to stay calm when he approached.

"Immensely." He sat down on the ground, grateful to be on solid footing rather than in the air. He was afraid that if he had fallen asleep he would have fallen out of his saddle and to his death. Sensing his fear, Thorn expressed his disapproval. _I would have caught you._

_Just drink your water, Thorn. _Murtagh was not in the mood for this.

Brom looked to him. "We've traveled quite some distance, but it's not time to celebrate yet. Galbatorix isn't going to be happy when he hears that he lost his recently captured Rider, and that's neglecting his last egg disappearing. Speaking of which, I must say, I'm surprised that we were able to acquire it that easily."

Murtagh snorted. "Easy? I would say it was more due to luck." The thoughts that had been on his mind came back to him, and he turned to Brom with interest. "Since we're talking about Gil'ead, can you explain to me why that Rider was so intent on killing you?"

At this the elf glanced towards Brom. Apparently she had been thinking the same thing as well. He rubbed his beard with a thoughtful expression. "I don't understand it myself. I've never met that man in my entire life. I've only heard stories about him. He is the King's Rider, Gabranth."

_Gabranth_. Murtagh frowned. He had indeed heard that name, but from the stories it was associated with, he never would he have thought that it belonged to that man. "I've heard he answers to Galbatorix with such loyalty that it's remarkable they do not look alike." Murtagh fidgeted, and out of the corner of his eyes, the elf also moved uncomfortably where she sat. Something must have happened between Gabranth and her, Murtagh thought with interest.

"He seems to hate you a great deal. Of all the people he could have been trying to kill it was you," Murtagh said, as he bit into the apple. "He could have aimed for her," he pointed to the elf, "because she had the egg. Or me, because I'm a Dragon Rider." He glanced at Brom closely as if trying to solve a mysterious puzzle. "You must have done something to him."

"Impossible. Gabranth had only started showing up recently, around four years ago. And if staying in Gil'ead has addled your senses, I'll remind you that I have been living in Carvahall for the past fifteen years," Brom said stiffly. Murtagh shrugged.

"Still, he aimed three arrows at you, not to mention that he set them on fire with magic." Suddenly his eyes shot up. "You didn't bed his woman, did you?"

"What in the blazes are you talking about, boy?" Brom roared. Murtagh shrugged again. After a few minutes, Brom was calm enough to speak. "Enough about that." He gestured towards the elf. "I've neglected to introduce the two of you; this is Arya, the Elven ambassador to the Varden." Then he motioned towards Murtagh with a disgruntled expression. "And this is Murtagh, the Rider of the dragon whose egg you had been carrying."

"Thank you for rescuing me." Murtagh said, truly thankful for her help. If it hadn't been for her strength and speed, Brom would have been captured in his attempt to save him from Gil'ead, and if not he would certainly have been killed by those arrows. "But why were you in Gil'ead? Were you also captured by Durza?"

She nodded. "My companions and I were ambushed on our return to Farthen Dûr." He blinked at her rich but accented voice. "Durza and the Urgals are working for Galbatorix."

"This will mean war!" Murtagh cried, after a short stunned silence. "Once the people of the Empire learn of it, they are sure to rebel and support the Varden!"

"If they ever learn of it," Arya corrected. "I don't think Galbatorix is going to announce their allegiance with the Urgals just yet. But even so," she added, her catlike green eyes turned towards the sun rising in the sky, "as long as your people have a common enemy, they will be unlikely to protest this alliance."

"Common enemy?"

"Use your head, Murtagh!" Brom exclaimed. "The elves and the Varden. With the right rumors they can be easily portrayed as the most despicable monsters in Alagaësia; fiends who are waiting to seize your land and wealth. The Empire has had a century to convince people of this. They could even say that the Urgals have been misunderstood all this time, and that they are really friends and allies against such terrible enemies. I only wonder what the king promised them in return for their services, if anything."

"Where is he sending the Urgals then? They were heading southeast as if to brave the Hadarac Desert."

"The Varden." Arya answered in a quiet voice. He turned to her. She was very healthy, he thought. Not one scratch for all the time she'd been imprisoned. He found it hard to believe, but before he could ask, Brom had spoken.

"We should rest; we have a long and arduous travel ahead of us." Murtagh nodded before stretching out a blanket to lie down on. Arya said something to Brom and assumed her position against the rocky surface of the cliff, keeping guard.

Murtagh soon found himself unable to sleep, however, and after an hour of lying still on the ground; he sat up with a sigh. "What troubles you?" Arya's soft voice floated over to him, loud in the silence of the night.

He shrugged. "I keep on thinking about that Rider, Gabranth." Her posture stiffened. "He wanted me to escape." Her bright green eyes turned to him. "When he came to visit me, he told me not to eat the food because it was drugged." He hesitated as he glanced at Arya. "He helped you too, didn't he?"

"Yes." The way she said that one word showed her thoughts of Gabranth; she was as confused by his actions as Murtagh was. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she continued in a soft voice. "I didn't understand him, or his intentions. It was during one of Durza's tortures that I first met him." A breath escaped her lips as she turned her gaze to the stars above, intent on studying the constellations. "I thought that he was going to take Durza's place as my torturer. But that was not so. He helped me, and used magic to heal me to full health, intent on me escaping Gil'ead. For someone so loyal to Galbatorix, he let me escape with both you and the last dragon egg." Murtagh saw her hands grip a pouch in her lap.

He sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. No matter what way he looked at it, they were indebted towards Gabranth. "I fear of what Galbatorix may do to him when he learns of his betrayal." She nodded.

"You should rest; we will leave soon for the Varden." He nodded before resuming his position on the blanket below him, now more at ease at having been able to confide in someone, even if it had only been for a few minutes.

For the next two days, Brom had them travel hard and fast, intent on evading the Black King and his army. They traveled with Murtagh riding Thorn, Arya running, and Brom riding the horses. They would regularly rest at half an hour intervals, out of fear of driving the horses to death, until eventually, they reached the borders of the Hadarac Desert.

That night, Murtagh was abruptly roused from sleep. He listened carefully. All was quiet. Uneasily, he slid his hand towards the side of his blanket where Zar'roc lay. He waited for a few minutes, then slowly slid back to sleep. A squeak suddenly pierced the night, tearing him back to wakefulness. Rolling to his feet, he could hear rustling from where Brom lay; he must have heard it as well. "Stop!"

He immediately tensed as Arya's voice cut through the night. A small green glow from a werelight appeared, and much to his shock and amazement, he found himself staring at a green dragon hatchling that was no longer than his forearm. It stood in the center of the triangle that they formed, throwing the last piece of membrane that it had been encased in to the ground. Its scales were a deep, emerald green, like the lush leaves of an aging tree. Despite its audience, it had only eyes for Arya. He watched as it walked up to the elf on unsteady legs, sniffing her curiously before letting out a squeak of excitement.

She tentatively, with a nod of approval from Brom, reached out with her right hand to stroke its head. Instantly her form crumpled to the ground, a shocked gasp escaping her lips. They hurried to her side, laying her down on Brom's blanket, the dragon intently following as if refusing to let its Rider leave its sight even for a minute to recover. After a few moments, the shock of the green egg hatching and its consequences penetrated his mind, and he found himself smiling like a fool.

_Another Rider! Now, we are evenly matched against Galbatorix!_ He thought excitedly, almost shouting with joy. Thorn let out a deep rumble. The green dragon turned to see the large red dragon, noticing his presence for the first time. It let out another excited squeak before running over to greet him. Just watching them interact made Murtagh consider just how quickly Thorn had grown since he was the hatchling's size himself but a few months ago.

"By the gods, we've been blessed." Brom muttered gazing up at the stars. "Two dragons joining the Varden." He let out a bark of laughter. "Finally, we are on equal footing! And Arya as a Rider!"

"This will be quite a story to tell when I arrive home." A dry voice entered their conversation. Arya was just getting up from where she laid, glancing at her right hand. The green dragon turned its attention away from Thorn before walking over to her; it stopped next to her and rubbed a scaly leg against her side. He watched how as she rubbed its head, the dragon arched to her touch in response.

Remembering when Thorn first hatched, Murtagh ran to the horses to grab a few strips of meat before handing it to Arya, who, with her unnatural strength, tore it into small strips, feeding them one by one to her thoroughly overexcited dragon. "So... are you going to train Arya?" Murtagh asked, turning to Brom, who let out a booming laugh.

"Train Arya? She probably knows more about magic then I do, and she definitely has far more years of fighting experience. No, she'll have to train with her people, the elves." A thoughtful expression spread across his face. "I'm overjoyed about having another Rider, but I think if there is any more excitement than what has happened lately, an old man like me might get a heart attack."

Murtagh snorted_. I don't believe that. _He turned to Thorn_. At least you have another companion to talk to._

_That is, when he's able to talk_, Thorn replied.

_It's a he then? You should tell Arya so she can come up with some names for him to choose. I can remember when I had to think of a list for you, _Murtagh said, replaying the memory in his head. He watched Arya turn to Thorn before nodding.

"All right, go to sleep, everyone. Let's not let this excitement get to our heads. We still have a long way to go tomorrow, and we need rest," Brom ordered, lying down on his blanket. Murtagh nodded, though he didn't believe he would get much sleep. His heart felt as if it might explode from his chest. This was almost too good to be true. The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the green dragon ambling its way up into Arya's lap before curling up to sleep.

The next morning, despite their happiness, traveling was made much more difficult with a dragon hatchling to carry. Murtagh could not hold the hatchling while flying with Thorn, for the fear of dropping him, and he was too young to fly on his own. The only comfortable solution that they came up with was for the dragon to lie in a saddlebag on Snowfire. It was slightly disgruntled when Arya tried to make it understand with her mind, but did as she asked.

He felt a thrill of excitement overwhelm him as they readied themselves to enter the Hadarac Desert. They were finally leaving the Empire! He was finally going to see a world without Galbatorix's influence.

Vast expanses of dunes spread to the horizon like ripples on an ocean. Gusts of wind twirled the reddish gold sand into the air. Scraggy trees grew on scattered patches of solid ground. The imposing desolation was barren of any animals except for a single bird gliding on the zephyrs.

It was morning of the fourth day since leaving Gil'ead. They had already covered thirty-five leagues. Murtagh had to admit that the journey on dragonback was likely much more pleasant than of that on horseback. He felt guilty as he glanced down to find the horses running through clouds of sand that billowed into a storm as they traversed the Hadarac Desert. Brom and Arya, not to mention her dragon, must be having problems breathing through all of that. He glanced forward: they had a long way to travel if they hoped to make it to the Beor Mountains-and away from Galbatorix.

**So, what do you think? I know that having another Rider so soon isn't that true to the book but it's going to get more interesting when Eragon arrives at the Varden. And this is the only way I can have the Durza battle at Farthen Dûr work out. Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Well, this is my third chapter. I'm happy to know that you guys enjoy this story so far. I'll try to keep it that way. And as for your suggestions, I'll keep them in mind. But this chapter is about Eragon and hopefully you'll get an insight of his life. Happy reading! I do not own Eragon but I will continue dreaming.**

The large castle doors flew open at his approach, slamming hard against the walls. If he had thrown them open any harder with magic, Gabranth was positive that they would have gone flying off their hinges. Practically stomping down the marble hallways, he took four sharp turns before arriving in front of the two beautifully carved black maple doors that preceded his mother's chamber. He threw them open, seeing how nicely kept the room was only adding to his frustration. Spinning on his heels, he made his way to his servants' quarters. Surely they wouldn't have let his mother waltz off with the intentions of going to the Varden by herself! She may have been Morzan's Black Hand, but that was well over sixteen years ago!

No matter what he told himself, everywhere he went, his castle was empty of any living presence despite him. Gabranth had known that it was futile to search from when he first set foot in his castle grounds; he had found his stable cleaned of his horses. It was only then that he found a letter addressed to him in the banquet room, lying on the long table. It was written in elegant script, meaning that Desdemona must have taken the liberty to explain to him why they weren't here.

_Lord Gabranth,_

_We are dearly sorry for leaving the castle uncared for and deeply regret leaving during your absence. However, we couldn't let Lady Selena embark on such a dangerous journey by herself. You said yourself when you hired us to serve you; we should protect her ladyship with our lives. After seeing how determined she was to leave, we decided that the best way to keep her from getting hurt was to accompany her ourselves. I give you my oath that nothing will befall her and that we shall arrive safely at our destination, the Varden. And we hope that you will not be long in following. If things work out, we shall see you at Farthen Dûr within a week's time._

_Your faithful servants,_

_Desdemona, Finny, Bard, and Rosalie._

Letting out a frustrated yell, he crumpled the letter, throwing it to the ground. Faithful servants? By the gods, they should have knocked her out or locked her inside her chambers. _You know they wouldn't do that, not to your mother._

_But the Varden!_ He protested, walking towards the exit. _It's almost like sending her to her death! What was she thinking, casting her fate with that lot?_

_Maybe she was sick of staying indoors so much. You know how much she longed to leave the Empire._

Before he could angrily retort, a soldier ran up to him, bowing as he stopped barely a foot in front of him. "What is it?" he asked, barely managing to contain his anger.

"His majesty w-would like to see you, lord Gabranth." He stammered, realizing the rider's fury. He hurriedly dismissed him. _Shall I accompany you?_

_No, stay and rest, we have a long journey ahead of us. _The castle that he had always lived in was given to his mother by Galbatorix. Apparently it was a gift to her when Morzan died to show how much Galbatorix appreciated the red rider's loyalty, giving it to the person closest to him, his Black Hand. However, it had also allowed the king to keep an eye on Gabranth ever since he was a child, for the castle was not far from the king's own majestic palace.

Entering the palace, he nodded to a group of passing soldiers who saluted to him. The guards were expecting him as he came upon them. They swung the doors open and bowed to him, before closing it shut after he entered. He wasn't surprised to find Durza already kneeling on the red carpet before a very displeased-looking Galbatorix. He stopped next to the shade's form, kneeling as well. "Your majesty."

"Ah, Gabranth," acknowledged Galbatorix, his black eyes turning to him. "I am very displeased," he said, stating the obvious.

"Is that so, your majesty?" he asked, knowing fully well the cause of his displeasure.

He sent him a mocking smile. "Why yes, it is. You see, I've received word from Durza that not only has the elf that I rewarded you with escaped, but you also let her take the _last egg — _along with the rider!" At the last statement, the room gave an unearthly shake, reflecting the king's obvious anger. Gabranth bowed his head.

"I did not let the elf take the last egg, and Brom was there to help the rider escape," he answered. In response, Galbatorix's eyes widened in surprise at being challenged while a cold smirk formed on Durza's lips. Gabranth felt himself smile. If only Durza knew how things weren't going to fall in his favor.

"Are you challenging me, Gabranth?" Galbatorix asked, a hint of menace underlining his tone. Gabranth shook his head and elaborated, but instead of using the common tongue, the words that left his lips were those of the ancient language.

"No, your majesty. When the elf escaped, I went after her. But before I did," he turned to glance at Durza from the slit in his helm, before continuing, "before I did, I entrusted Durza with the egg, for I knew that there was a chance that I might lose it in battle. But apparently for a shade so powerful, he was overwhelmed by a recovering elf, a young rider, and an old man."

"You—!" the Shade's angry outburst was silenced as Galbatorix turned to stare at him.

"You have yet to inform me of this, Durza," he whispered quietly.

"I thought that you wouldn't deem it important," he replied, his head bowed.

A harsh laugh echoed through the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Again, from the way they amplified the sound, it seemed as if the room were echoing the King's emotions. "Not important? For a moment, your lack of information almost had me punishing my most loyal subject! I am... most displeased with you, Durza," Galbatorix spoke, his aggravation at Durza's failures clearly heard throughout his words. "I shall deal with you later, now begone!"

He looked ready to protest but stood, and giving Gabranth a scorching look, left the throne room, muttering curses underneath his breath all the while. Galbatorix turned back to Gabranth. "I apologize for that undue anger, Gabranth."

"It is to be understood, your majesty. The loss of something so valuable would render anyone ill-tempered." The king nodded this. Gabranth continued. "Before I leave, your majesty, I wish to request your permission to journey to the Varden."

Shock overwhelmed the king's expression, soon replaced by suspicion. "And why is that, Gabranth?"

"My mother has taken it upon herself to journey to their hideout. And I will _not_ have her throw away her life with a petty resistance group." He answered, unable to keep the anger from his tone.

"And if she refuses?"

"If push comes to shove, I'll eventually have to use magic to show her how serious my intentions are, at having her side with the Varden. But hopefully, it will not come to that."

"Is it because she wants to be with Brom?" He stiffened and the smile on Galbatorix's lips widened. The King knew how to play with his emotions, Gabranth thought. No matter.

"I refuse to let that happen," Gabranth said, his voice filled with such venom that it shocked him. He had never been one to show anger. But Galbatorix seemed pleased. "If I have to, I'll dye my blade red and coat my armor in his blood if he gets in my way."

"Your own father?"

That did it. He lifted his head to glare at Galbatorix. "Never has he been my father. And he never shall claim that title." _Not after he abandoned me and my mother. _His heart clenched painfully at the thought. The king nodded, a pleased smile on his lips.

"Very well, you have my permission. And while you're there, please do get my precious egg back. I don't want their dirty hands touching something so valuable."

"You have my word."

"Do you need any reinforcements?" Galbatorix asked.

"Nay, if I do, I shall have to bend my pride a little and ask the Urgals for assistance." The king laughed at the displeasure in Gabranth's voice but nodded.

"I will send word for them to obey your commands, when you arrive in the Beor Mountains. The main force is stationed in the city of Ithro Zhada, though its real name as given by the dwarves is Orthiad. It is an old city that is connected to most if not all of the tunnels that run underneath the Beor Mountains. You should find that arriving at Farthen Dûr is but an easy task. However, be careful so as not to reveal any of our spies' identities," Galbatorix explained.

Gabranth nodded, thankful for the information. He stood and with one last bow, left the throne room. He wasn't surprised to find Durza waiting at the end of the hallway for him. As he approached the shade, he wasn't fazed in the slightest by the fire in his maroon eyes. "How dare you!" Durza exclaimed. "Insulting me in front of the King!"

"I would watch what comes out of your mouth from now on, Durza," Gabranth warned, his voice was so sharp it had momentarily surprised Durza. Momentarily.

"You have no right to insult a powerful shade such as myself! Not with your powers!"

"Powerful?" he laughed. "Do not insult me, Durza. I am not in the mood for such useless arguments. And if you don't want to see me irritated, I suggest you remember your place."

"Is that a threat?" Durza whispered quietly, his hand sliding to the hilt of his sword.

"No, merely advice. But since you seem to be lacking some today, I'll gladly offer you some words of wisdom. With the king being so displeased, in your position I would suggest you refrain from attacking me, or his majesty himself will be ripping your heart from your chest."

Durza glared at him before speaking his final statement. "I shall see that you regret those words had left your lips."

"I will wait for the day to come when you pose a challenge to me, Durza," Gabranth promised, turning to leave the hallway. As he walked, he called out for Saphira. _Fly to the armory, it's time to test out the dragon armor that was forged for you._

_You really want to fight them? Your brother? Your father?_

_Never call him my father! _He replied vehemently. _He doesn't have the right._

_Eragon…I will see you there,_ Saphira conceded. He sighed, thankful that she had let the argument drop. Entering a large room, he nodded towards the soldiers and workers that were scattered about the large chamber. Armor of every kind hung off the walls; silver mail, platinum chest plates, and iron wrought helms. But the type that differed greatly from most of the armor in the room was the large dragon armor in the center; silver, with the crest of the Empire painted in red upon the shiny surfaces. Gabranth ordered some of the men to carry it outside into the courtyard where Saphira stood waiting patiently, her tail swaying from side to side as she watched them with bright blue eyes. After a good deal of struggling, Gabranth and the workers stood back to admire their work. Saphira's entire neck, except for the spikes that ran along the top ridge, was covered with triangular scales of overlapping armor. Her belly and chest were protected by the heaviest plates, while the lightest ones were on her tail. Her legs and back were completely encased. Her wings were left bare. A single molded plate lay on top of her head, leaving her lower jaw free to bite and snap, and painted in red on it was the Empire's crest.

_This will slow me down while we travel, but it will certainly help if we were to fight the Varden upon our arrival. Thank the gods that it is enchanted, though. I wouldn't want to fly in this underneath the scorching sun. How do I look_? Saphira arched her neck and the armor flexed smoothly with her.

Everyone except for Gabranth took a step back unconsciously. _Do I have to answer that one?_

_No, but it's nice to drop a compliment here and there._

_Very intimidating_, replied Gabranth, truthfully. That pleased her. _I'll have to go gather some supplies from the castle, so meet me there in an hour or so. While I'm gone, why don't you try flying about in your armor? If it's too heavy, tell me and I'll enchant it to feel lighter._

_An hour it is. _Without another word, she pushed off from the ground, letting out a roar of delight as she ascended through the sky. A nearby soldier stopped to admire the sight of her, staring at her in awe. At that point, Saphira spun in a circle, letting the sun's ray dance off her armor. _Show off._

She ignored him. As he had said, Gabranth made his way back to his empty castle. Its emptiness making the halls seem even colder than usual. Seeing as there was no one around, Gabranth lifted his helm from his head and gently set it down on the banquet table. His reflection gazed back at him, a face he rarely showed. _It's because I've lost the right to show it_, he told himself as he did every time.

Four years ago when Saphira's egg had hatched for him, he had endured the harshest and most cruel torture that Galbatorix could devise. And it was four years ago when he had abandoned himself, and his identity. _Four years, s_ince he had taken up the title of being the King's rider willingly, since he had abandoned the name Eragon. He had become unfit for such a name. _Eragon, _the name of the first rider. If he had carried that name, he would only have tarnished it. _But there was another reason_, he thought. Gabranth shook his head.

And so, Gabranth was born four years ago. The cold hearted person who never revealed his face in public, serving the king with unswerving and cold-hearted loyalty. He sighed, rubbing his temple. Maybe that was why his mother left — she was sick of his emotionlessness, his willingness to serve such a tyrant. Maybe it was his fault that she was condemned to such a life of loneliness without the love of a husband or a proper son.

That was right, Gabranth thought as he tied the bag of supplies on the table. Who would want a cold-hearted son? A son who took his first life at the age of thirteen and continued to kill. A son who only brought pain to her whenever she set eyes upon him, or called his name. He could scarcely remember the last time that his mother had properly smiled without weariness that belay her age, or laughed without the weight of a saddened woman.

Would her life be any different if she had been living with Murtagh in the town in which she hid him? With his fath—Brom. _Aye, she would have been happier._ Gabranth thought, glancing back at his reflection. Maybe that was why she ran off for the Varden. News of her other son being a rider and of her lover who had disappeared sixteen years ago must have reached her. And she must have longed to be with them. In that case, what was he doing? Chasing after a mother who chose to abandon him? Was this even right?

_Do what you believe is right. In your heart. Don't let your mind twist what you want._

_But what do I want? _He replied, confused at his own feelings.

_Look within yourself, Eragon. You've answered the wishes of Galbatorix, of the people, of your mother. But what is it that you wish? _Saphira gently asked.

_Wishing is childish._

_It's not so. Everyone wishes for something in their hearts. The desire for change; for something that causes their longing to appear, takes root — and eventually, you find yourself wishing for it beyond anything._

_Maybe._

_Do you wish to see your mother again?_

He stopped and glanced at his reflection again. What she had suggested was the truth. There was no way around that revelation. He wished to see his mother. To see the person she was before he had become distant and cold. To see her laugh and smile with joy. _Let's go, Saphira. The day is getting late._

_My, my, why the sudden haste? _She teased. A small smile curved his lips upwards.

_I thought you knew what my wish was._

_Wish granted. _He grinned, and with another glance at himself, placed his helm back upon his head. Hoisting the pack over his shoulder, Gabranth left his castle to find Saphira ready and waiting for him. Her blue eyes sparkled with joy. _Finally, the adventure that I've been waiting for!_

_Excited to leave the Empire, are we? _Gabranth slid into the saddle that was tied over her armor, slipping the bag into one of the pouches. With deft fingers, he tightened the straps on the saddle over his legs.

_It's been a boring four years. To see new sights... It will be wonderful. _He smiled, feeling her anticipation and joy through their mental connection.

_Then let us fly. You wish to see the Beor Mountains soon, do you not? _The dragon let out a roar, and he pulled back slightly as a jet of fire crackled through the air. With a stroke of her wings and the push of her hind legs, she brought them easily off the ground, arching southeast towards the Beor Mountains.

For the first time in his life, he was going to leave the Empire, the place in which he was born, and head for foreign land. The home of the dwarves and the Varden. Like Saphira, he couldn't help but feel the excitement that sprung to life in his chest. Maybe, he hoped, he would see that elf again and his half-brother along with his dragon. And if he did meet Brom face to face, he was prepared for the fight that might ensue. The anger and resentment he had felt for the man that was his father had always been harbored in his heart, waiting to be released — _and maybe soon it will b_e. At the horizon horizon, outlined by the setting sun, he could see small specks rising from the ground. One would take them as trees, but he knew that they were something entirely different. _The Beor Mountains._

The smile on his lips widened at the thought of what might happen at his arrival in the Varden. If he entered, they wouldn't let him leave as easily, he knew…but no matter. He was ready for it and so was Saphira. Ready for their journey together outside of the Empire.

**Well, how did you think this chapter was? Good? Please give some suggestions. And review, I'll like to see what you think of the story so far. It makes me happy to see what other peoples' opinions are of it. Well, I'll try to post the next chapter soon enough! Don't forget to review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Another chapter everyone! I'm grateful that you've all loved the story so far! I'll try to keep it that way. Happy reading to everyone and don't forget to review. Eragon = CP.**

After two days of traveling, the two of them eventually reached the Beor Mountains. Gabranth had to admit that, when he caught sight of the mountains against the setting sun of their second day of travel, the sight had been breathtaking. It was much different from the plain brick cities he was accustomed to visiting. That night as they were camping, he found himself staring up at the star filled night. _I never knew how beautiful the night sky could be._

_Come to think of it, this is the longest that we've ever been out of civilization. It makes you take in the sights around you with a different view, doesn't it?_

_It does. _He sighed. They were close to Orthiad, he knew. And once they overcame that, they would be heading straight for Farthen Dûr. Had his mother already made it there, he wondered? Had she met Brom or Murtagh yet? There was a reason why Gabranth had always hated being alone. When he was alone, he liked to think, and thinking always brought realization — which in turn brought pain.

He ran a hand through his messy, light brown hair. He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid of meeting his mother again, at least with the possibility of meeting his father and Murtagh. Would she refuse to return with him to the Empire? He shook his head; that was a stupid question. Of course she would. Why would she abandon happiness? He knew her. His mother would rather die instead of abandoning a chance at being happy. She didn't care for jewels, power, or recognition. She had only a desire to be happy.

And he understood that desire. He wanted to laugh like he used to as a child without the burden of being a rider; without Galbatorix hanging over him. To smile freely. Maybe if he were stronger, he wouldn't have ended up as aloof as he was now. His thoughts soon wandered to Brom. He snorted. No matter how many times he tried to avoid such a topic, his mind would always bring it up. Why did he abandon him? It was a question that as a child, he had always wanted answered. But who else could have answered it besides Brom? Was it because he didn't want a child? Seeing him with Murtagh made the hurt in Gabranth's heart grow even larger and the hole even deeper.

Why would he care for the son of his enemy? The person who had used him from the very beginning when they were training as riders? He had killed Morzan and yet, he cared for the Forsworn's son and not his own? Gabranth simply didn't understand. Why would he help Murtagh and yet abandon him? His own son? Then, before he could stop them, his thoughts soon ended up wandering over to his half-brother. What was Murtagh like?

There was no doubt that he was much kinder than Gabranth. He had probably not even taken a life by his own hands yet. But he also had a father that he hated, he was sure of that. At least they had something in common besides blood. But everything else made them complete opposites. Did he have a happy childhood? Was he surrounded by family and friends, while Gabranth was surrounded by generals and soldiers? Just thinking of it made him begin to get angry. His mother went out of her way to get Murtagh out of the King's clutches, and yet she let her youngest son suffer a fate so horrible. He was being stupid. Now he was blaming his mother.

Deep down in his heart, he could never be angry at her, even if she did let him live such a life. She was one of the select few people besides Saphira that he cared for greatly. If anything it was his fault. For by giving in to Galbatorix, he might even have brought her more pain that happiness. _My existence was a mistake._

_Now you're being an imbecile. _Saphira, who had been quiet throughout his entire thought process, suddenly spoke up fiercely. _You've tried your best to live the right way. Stop blaming yourself, Eragon. You were young and defenseless. If the great rider Vrael fell to Galbatorix, then what are the chances of a twelve year old against him?_

_But that doesn't explain why Brom abandoned me. Why my mother only saved Murtagh and yet let me live like this._

_Then ask them once we arrive in Farthen Dûr. Don't let this dictate your life._

He smiled, if somewhat sadly, bringing a hand up to gently stroke Saphira's snout. _I will_. He sighed._ Saphira... I'm grateful that despite the troubles of being a rider that I'll never lose you as a friend._

_Oh, little one. _He could feel in her thoughts that she was overjoyed at his statement. He rarely ever told her how much she meant to him because she could feel it through their mental connection but when he did, it made her overwhelming happy. She nudged him gently. _Get some sleep, Eragon. Tomorrow, if we make good time, we shall be sitting in the presence of Urgals._

He nodded and rather comfortable in his armor, leaned against her side, allowing her wing to fold over him as he slept. The next day as they traveled, Saphira flew over a threshold and directly into a tunnel under the Beor Mountains. Finding the entrance to the mountain was a simple task for a dragon as large as Saphira, but the next part was the tricky step. If one wasn't careful, they could end up getting lost in the darkness that encased the tunnels. And if fortune didn't smile upon them to make it out, then they would spend the rest of their lives wandering the tunnels until they died of starvation or went crazed at being in the dark for so long.

Still, though, this threat again meant nothing to Saphira. Her unfailing sense of direction as a dragon pointed her the right way and she could hear much farther than his sensitive ears could. This helped her fly towards Orthiad as she knew that, being full of Urgals, it would be a very noisy city. They weren't the most graceful race in existence. The thought of being so close to Urgals filled Gabranth with displeasure. Their race was a most barbaric one; fighting to become chief of their clan, and fighting to be eligible to mate. When he first heard of their alliance with the Urgals he felt sickened. However, this was nothing compared to what he had seen at Yazuac. The piles of bodies haunted his thoughts. From then on, he had made sure that not one more Urgal stepped within the boundaries of their cities.

Unaware of the time, he could see a distinct light at the end of the tunnel. They had made it. When they emerged from the tunnel, he found himself staring down at an ancient city, long deserted by the dwarves, as Galbatorix had told him. Below were masses of Urgals staring up at Saphira, but none raised their weapons, knowing full well who Gabranth and Saphira were. Saphira landed in a courtyard, folding her wings in on herself to avoid hitting nearby Urgals and Kull. It was a large force, Gabranth noted. The Varden would be unlikely to survive such an army.

A larger-than-average Kull approached him, his head raised high in a sign of respect. The horns curling from his temples were nicely polished, to his amusement. _If you were born a Kull I'm sure you'd like to polish your horns every once in a while to attract the ladies._

He snorted quietly as the tall, proud Kull approached, unfazed by the large muscles bulging all across his body. "Lord Gabranth." He spoke in a thick, guttural accent. "I am Tarok." He remembered that name. It was that of one of the few Kull chosen to guide the many clans of Urgals underneath Durza's command. Gabranth nodded, acknowledging him. "An honor it is to meet you."

He frowned, grateful for the helm covering his face; and through that, his distaste for the Urgals. "Likewise."

Tarok beckoned for an Urgal to step forward. "He will show you to your resting place. And if possible we would like to speak to you about our next course of action." That surprised him. Had the King order them to Orthiad without any other plans? He nodded.

Letting the Urgal guide him, he took in the ancient city that showed many signs of its long abandonment by the dwarves. He had read in many books that Orthiad was one of the grandest cities the dwarves had built, in its prime. He was soon grateful that when it was built, the dwarves seemed to have taken into consideration the height of other races, even if the doorways still seemed a little too small for the Kull. It seemed fair that they had never expected clans of Urgals to rest in their city.

Safely tucked away in his room, he left Saphira to eat the deer that the Urgals had offered to her. He removed his armor, leaving only a pair of breeches remaining on his body. Bathing himself, he let his mind wander off as he sat in the hot bath, grateful for a chance to rid his body of all the dirt and filth that had accumulated during their journey. As he had always found it, it was strange to see so many different Urgal clans together. Being the barbaric race that they were, he was sure that fights should have ensued, but as he met them, they seemed peaceful. _Dark magic_. The King or Durza must have done something to ensure that they remained loyal.

The following day, he let an Urgal lead him to what seemed like a practice field. Gathered to watch were a crowd of Urgals, with Saphira among their masses. From the feelings he was getting from her she was greatly amused at what was about to happen. He felt slightly annoyed at being uninformed. When Tarok approached him, he couldn't keep the annoyance from his voice. "What is the meaning of this? Don't tell me that we are having a strategy session on a practice field."

Tarok shook his head and raised his chin. "We were asked by Durza to treat you with our customs. And for you to be accepted by my people, you must defeat me in a challenge of strength."

_Durza. _He was getting closer and closer to aggravating Gabranth to the point in which he might kill the shade. When they came face to face again, he would make sure that an arrow would be sticking out of Durza's head... or maybe his heart. "A challenge of strength? Very well, I accept your challenge, Tarok. Will there be a need for weapons?"

The Kull shook his head. "No, we are not aiming to kill. If you become victorious, we will gladly accept you as a formidable leader."

Gabranth nodded and removed both of his blades from his side handing them to one of the nearby Urgals who took it in hand. He was accustomed to fighting with both hands because, in his opinion, only weak people needed to fight with shields. "Very well, let us get on with this challenge. I will show you as I've shown Durza my strength."

Immediately the field was cleared except for Gabranth and Tarok who stood facing each other. The Urgals that had crowded around them stood silently watching. Saphira bared her teeth in what seemed to be a smile. She was enjoying this far too much, thought Gabranth. One Urgal let out a roar which must have been the sound to begin fighting, for Tarok immediately charged at him. With a smile, he spread his feet apart, bending his knees as the Kull bent his head, his horns shining brightly. Unfazed, Gabranth curled his hands around each horn, stopping him in his intentions to ram him to the ground.

With unnatural strength, he brought his leg back and kicked Tarok in the gut, sending him flying thirty feet or more. It was enough strength to break a rib or two, but the Kull seemed to refuse to lose that easily. It was quite sweet really, though Gabranth, as the Kull stood and charged once more. The pattern was repeated over and over, with Gabranth throwing him off with ease, kicking, kneeing and punching Tarok until he had the Kull kneeling on the ground before him, bruised and tired. _He's not too smart now is he? _Gabranth sent to Saphira, causing her to come close to erupting into dragon-like giggles.

"We should call that an end to this challenge Tarok," said Gabranth. "Any more and you might end up killing yourself."

The Kull nodded and with what seem like an effort, brought himself back up to his feet. "You've bested me, Lord Gabranth. The right to join our councils is now yours. We shall respect you and obey your commands as one of our formidable leaders."

"I thank you." Feeling somewhat sorry for the Kull, he held out his right hand, on which his gedwëy ignasia was burned, covered by the armor. "May I take the liberty of healing your wounds? If you are injured, it may be difficult to lead your people in a battle."

"You may." With that, he began healing the Kull's wounds, but it seemed as if he had damaged Tarok's pride more than his body, upon inspection. Kull were clearly quite resilient. Afterwards, they were led into a large chamber, in which stood a lone table with a map lying on it. Saphira, who was waiting outside, gently touched his mind with hers. _That was a mighty show of power you put on out there._

_I like to show off every once and a while, unlike a certain dragon I know, who grasps the chance at every passing moment, h_e replied.

_Perhaps. It's just too bad you don't take well to Urgals. It seems as if any of the females would all be happy to marry you if you were of their kind. _He made a disgusted face at this, tuning out her laughter as he returned his attention to the table. He glanced at the map laid out on the table. "So you plan to attack Farthen Dûr?"

"Yes," one of the Kull commanders, Gashz, answered. "Our forces will be divided and we will attack the Varden from three different entry points." He pointed to three places on the map.

"A smart idea indeed," Gabranth murmured. "If you can corner them in, eventually you'll have them encaged within your army." Then an idea struck him. "And if they collapse the tunnels?"

"We will have to find a separate route. As long as it leads to the same place, it is fine."

He nodded. "When do you plan to take this course of action?"

"As soon as Durza arrives in Orthiad." Tarok answered. Gabranth nodded. So he must leave immediately for Farthen Dûr for any hope of getting his mother and servants out of the battlefield quickly. Durza would almost certainly want to have them caught in the crossfire.

They spent the next hour devising strategic battle plans, but in Gabranth's opinion, they could not get any better. Attacking from underneath limited their abilities and the element of surprise was their only upper hand. But even without that, he was sure that the Urgals could easily crush the Varden. _You think they could be defeated that easily? _Saphira asked, as they flew from Orthiad towards Farthen Dûr. They had left as soon as the meeting was over, exchanging brief goodbyes.

_If you base it off of numbers._

_If you have them cornered to a wall, I'm sure they won't give up very easily._

He nodded. Suddenly a sound of running footsteps reached his ears. An Urgal? No, the footsteps were too light. Raising his hand, he watched as a bright blue orb appeared, lighting the tunnel up to fifty feet. A grin appeared as the image of a dwarf running below him reached his eyes. _Saphira, land._

She did as he asked, landing directly in front of the dwarf. He watched in amusement as the dwarf fell, swearing all the while. Gabranth slid from the saddle with ease, making his way over to the fallen dwarf. "It seems that you've seen us. I wonder, were you going to run and tell the Varden of our arrival?"

The dwarf spat angrily at him. Gripping him by the front of his shirt, he lifted the small creature from his feet with ease. "Go tell your king, tell the Varden. I could not care less. But tell them that if the person I want isn't there, I will burn your precious cities to the ground and collapse every tunnel in this mountain so you will live in rubble."

With that he threw the dwarf towards the end of the tunnel watching as he scrambled to his legs and immediately set off, not glancing back. _Was that wise?_

_It'll make searching much easier. I'd rather have them come to me. _He replied climbing back up Saphira's saddle. Putting out the light, he couldn't stop the anxious feeling rising in his chest. It wasn't going to be easy getting in and out of the Varden without harming anyone, especially with Brom, and trying to convince his mother to leave with him would be nigh on impossible. Still, he was going to try nonetheless. _I can see the end to the tunnel._

She was right. A light shone ahead of them, and within a few minutes, they emerged from the tunnel to fly into an open space. Guards below them let out alarmed shouts, drawing their arrows which promptly bounced off the wards he had placed around Saphira when they took flight, as Gabranth was able to take in the sight of Farthen Dûr.

As they flew, he ignored the guards below them; they all seemed to be in quite a panic at their appearance. Honestly, it would be best to approach such a situation with a calm mind. But yet again, how could one be calm when such a large and intimidating dragon entered one's home?

That was when he saw the crowd waiting for them, standing in a large central chamber of what seemed to be the great dwarf city Tronjheim. Directly above them was the great star sapphire, the beautiful work of the dwarves that he had read of in many ancient texts. He wasn't surprised to find a red dragon waiting for them. Murtagh.

_Are you ready, Eragon?_

_We're here, aren't we? Land, Saphira, it's time to face them. S_he did as he asked, gliding to the ground. Gabranth steeled himself as her feet touched the ground, jostling him in the saddle. As he undid the straps around his legs, he felt determination well up within him. It was time to face his past — and in doing so, decide his future.

**So what did you guys think? There wasn't that much action but I wanted you to get a better feel of Eragon's past and his emotions. The next chapter will be up very soon hopefully, I'm beyond busy. But please review, I'll like to know what you think. As for suggestions, just throw them at me! See you at the next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was only when his feet hit the ground that Gabranth finally took in the sight of the people awaiting him. He saw a tall, powerfully built man, his skin the color of ebony. The dome of his head was shaved bare, but a closely trimmed black beard covered his chin and upper lip. Strong features shadowed his face, and grave, intelligent eyes lurked under his brows. He bore himself with great dignity, exuding an intense, commanding air. He must be the leader of the Varden, Ajihad, and the man who had come close to killing Durza. It was a pity he hadn't succeeded in doing so. For that feat alone, Gabranth harbored small feelings of respect for the man. At his shoulder were two tall men, both bald and beardless, dressed in purple and gold robes. _The Twins._

His gaze swept past them, setting eyes on a dwarf. Upon his head was a gold helm lined with rubies and diamonds. His visage was grim, weathered, and hewn, showing many years' experience. Beneath a craggy brow glinted deep-set eyes, flinty and piercing. Over his powerful chest rippled a shirt of mail. His white beard was tucked under his belt, and in his hands he held a mighty war hammer. He was the King of the dwarves, Hrothgar, no doubt. And by his furious expression, he must have gotten that message from the dwarf that Gabranth had assaulted.

Standing beside him was a younger dwarf, who wore chain mail with an axe hanging from his waist. His appearance was similar to that of his king, if not as grand and majestic. He continued looking down the line, stopping on the elf. Again, that strange feeling bloomed in his heart as he stared at her. Her brows were slanted, but unlike the others, her expression wasn't alarmed, seeming to be merely alerted. He forced his eyes onward past Murtagh who stood next to her, to Brom, and to the woman standing next to him. Instead of a dress, his mother wore clothes of padded leather, with black bracers upon her forearms and greaves upon her shins, a sword and dagger hanging from her waist. Her expression was one of pain as she stared at him. Standing behind her were his servants, anxiety marring their expressions.

Finally, he saw that not far off was a battalion of soldiers, humans and dwarves alike. Stepping forward again, he turned his helmed head in Ajihad's direction. "A warm welcome indeed."

Ajihad frowned, his alert expression never faltering as he spoke. "Why is it that you invade our halls, Gabranth? Is it for the dragon egg?"

He shook his head, surprising most of his audience. "No, I've come for another reason. If you would cooperate willingly with me, than I shall soon be gone from your presence."

The dwarf that stood beside Hrothgar angrily spat on the ground. _Disgusting, _Gabranth thought, _why is it that all of the dwarves that I've met only know how to spit? _"Do not insult us. You think you can threaten our race and burst into Farthen Dûr, and we'll just let you leave?"

Hrothgar raised his hand to silence the angry dwarf; he spoke in a guttural tone. "What is it that you seek within the Varden? We have nothing valuable to you besides our Riders." _Riders?_

Saphira's surprise flooded through him. _The egg must have hatched! _Pushing that thought aside, he focused himself. "I'm here for a person." He turned so that his body faced his mother, holding out his right hand. "Come back with me, mother. To Urû'baen."

Her expression seemed to become even more pained as she glanced between his outstretched hand and Brom and Murtagh. His half-brother, Gabranth noticed from the corners of his eyes, slid his hand to the hilt of Zar'roc. So he wasn't going to let go of their mother easily, thought Eragon. It wasn't his intention to hurt Murtagh but if he had to, then he would. "Don't do this," she whispered.

"I don't want to force you, mother," he said, a little more forcefully, as hurt spread through his veins like wildfire. She had refused him, just as he had hoped she wouldn't.

"Era—" Brom began, his face tormented.

"I don't want to hear it!" He yelled at the old man, his head snapping to face him, shocking everyone at his sudden outburst of anger. "I may have lost the rights to bear that name, but you aren't entitled to call me by it either!"

Quelling his anger, he turned his attentions back to his mother. "Please." He whispered quietly. His mother shook her head. Gabranth lowered his outstretched hand, balling his hands into fists. She was abandoning him. Like Brom did. Her own son. For her lover and for her other child. Steeling himself, he sighed. There was no point dragging her back to Urû'baen if she refused it as much as was currently doing. It would only serve to hurt her further. He turned to leave.

"Wait!" She cried, desperation coloring her voice. She stepped towards him. "Your helm. Please take off your helm so we can talk without these barriers."

They stood there, facing one another, before at long last; he removed the helm from his head in one swift motion, tucking it under his arm. He ignored everyone's shocked expressions at his young and elfish appearance, concentrating only on his mother. Those who heard him speak without his helm for the first time were even further surprised at his deep and slightly musical voice. "What is there to speak of? When you refuse to return with me to Urû'baen? When you ally yourself with the Varden?" asked Gabranth. "I can't protect you here, not when I'm fighting for the king."

"Then don't fight the Varden. Eragon, you can choose, you don't have to fight for Galbatorix. You can join the Varden." His mother whispered. He didn't stop her as she spoke his real name. Only she and Saphira had that right.

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

He refused to answer, turning his gaze to Ajihad and to Hrothgar instead. "I do not think your leader or the dwarves' King would approve of the likes of me, wandering these halls."

"That is not so." Ajihad replied, albeit stiffly and reluctantly, but still shocking him. Hrothgar nodded. "If you give your oath not to turn against us, if you allow yourself to be examined by the Twins or our elven ambassador, then perhaps we can trust you."

"See?" Selena said with a smile and a glimmer of hope in her brown eyes. "You can, you just have to decide for yourself."

"Eragon." He felt his anger flare as Brom spoke. The old man ignored his furious eyes and stepped towards them. In a flash, Gabranth had one of his swords in hand, pointed directly at Brom's chest. That was when Murtagh had decided to break his silence. He ran forward, Zar'roc flashing, and raised the crimson red blade, pointing it directly at Gabranth.

"Lower your sword!" He hissed, his gray eyes a raging fire.

Gabranth pointedly ignored him. "Don't you dare call me by that name." he warned. "Not after you abandoned me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have suffered as much as I did."

Brom motioned to Murtagh. "Lower your sword." When he refused he repeated the order more forcefully. "Lower your sword, boy!"

"If he lowers his!" He angrily retorted. His mother, who stood off to side, seemed to be in a panic as she saw her family face off at each other, both of her sons bearing blades.

"Stop it, everyone!" she cried. She ran up tugging at his arm. "Please, Eragon. Let him explain, let me explain. You've always asked why your father abandoned you as a child. And now you have the chance to listen to his answer! Please, lower your sword."

Murtagh glanced wildly between the two of them, his eyes moving from Gabranth and back to Brom. "HE'S HAD SIXTEEN YEARS!" Gabranth roared, ripping his arm free from his mother. "Sixteen years," he whispered. "But he hadn't once thought of the young child that suffered in the dungeons of Urû'baen. No, he could run around risking his life for the Varden and train their new Dragon Rider, but couldn't muster up the courage to come for his _own son_."

"I do not blame you for hating me, Eragon," Brom whispered, his face pained. "But before you leave, just let me tell you why I never came to see you or your mother. Just a moment of your time, that is all I ask."

Saphira, who had remained quiet until now, nudged his mind gently. _Isn't this what you've wanted? Lower your sword, Eragon, listen to his explanation._

_What is there to explain?_

_ Your anger and hurt is clouding your judgment; lower your sword, and hear him out. Or you'll regret this for the rest of your life. _Hesitating, he reluctantly lowered his sword, leaving his arm lax by his side. Eventually Murtagh lowered his. Brom stared at him for a long while before he opened his mouth to speak. Instead of the normal tongue, the ancient language flowed from between his lips.

"Sixteen years ago," began Brom, "when the red egg was stolen from Galbatorix's citadel, our agent who was assigned to the task unexpectedly took the egg and left with it. I spent nearly a year trying to track him down. And at that time, your mother was pregnant with you. However, she didn't know it was so. When Morzan ordered her on a mission, she thought it the opportune time to hide Murtagh from his father's clutches. She went to Carvahall and there she hid him there, but… on her journey back, she realized that she was pregnant with you. And in order to avoid Morzan's fury when he realized that the child wasn't his, she decided to keep far away from his castle."

His face scrunched up in pain as he continued and Gabranth felt his heart racing wildly in his chest. "I heard during my battle with Morzan that your mother had gone missing, and as soon as I had killed him and retrieved the egg from his body, I made my way to the castle in which she had lived. There, all the servants had told me that she had disappeared months ago, escaping with Murtagh. I had thought that she had finally found freedom but when I found Murtagh in Carvahall without your mother, it was not so. I'd asked her brother what had become of her and he said that she left once he took in Murtagh. For months I traveled between Carvahall and the castle in hopes of finding your mother but to no avail did I achieve that goal. I had thought that she had died. I attempted to scry her, but she had wards placed to block any attempts. You see, Eragon, I never learned of your existence."

His breathing was harsh as he took in Brom's explanation. All of these years, all of his hatred at being abandoned, his hurt at being unwanted, was from a misunderstanding. He didn't want to accept it as the truth. No, he had suffered so much and to know that the father he had always blamed for all of his misfortunes didn't mean to cause them made his heart hurt. His mother nodded as she too spoke in the ancient language.

"When I gave birth to you, I thought that maybe I could take you to Carvahall as I had done for Murtagh. It was not so. On the road to the small village, a group of soldiers found me and I was soon brought to Galbatorix. I was weak, I was no match for him and I couldn't find any way to save you except for agreeing to live under him as his subject. I thought that maybe when you were old enough you could find the strength to leave Urû'baen. But that hope was dashed when Saphira had hatched for you." He wished it was all lies; it would be easier then. _But how could it be?_ A small part of his mind asked. _They spoke in the ancient language, and your mother would never lie to you._ What about all the years he had lived in such hatred and anger? Should he simply throw it away? His grip on his sword tightened.

Speaking in the common tongue in order to keep from revealing his true feelings, Gabranth breathed in deeply. "I don't care what your reason was. I was still left to suffer under Galbatorix," he said, trying to control his voice. "To simply forget and to forgive all that has happened to me? The extent of the tortures I've experienced, you cannot imagine. It would be far too difficult. It is not so simple that I can just let go of such hatred, pain and resentment, that I've held on to for so long. Nor do I wish to do so."

_Eragon._ Saphira said, gently. He shook his head. _What do you want to do now?_

_I don't know anymore_, he replied truthfully, turning away from the congregation. Suddenly, he felt like the twelve year old child, locked in a dark, cold dungeon and wanting to be free. A feeling of loneliness and fear washed over him like ice-cold water. _I don't want to be alone_, theyoung boy cried in his mind. Grappling with his emotions, he felt himself shy away as his father moved towards him. When Brom spoke, it was back in the normal tongue. "Eragon, I know you hate me. I know you feel disgusted at the thought of having someone like me as your father. I understand that you don't want to throw away your hatred for me, but don't let that affect your judgment. You said you suffered beneath Galbatorix, so why do you not leave his service?"

"And join the Varden?" he laughed, feeling half-crazed, knowing he could not reveal the true reason. "Why should I? Wouldn't I suffer just as much? After serving Galbatorix for so long, I accepted my fate long ago. And to now find myself open to such choices?"

"That is only if you make it so," Ajihad spoke finally. He stepped forward and suddenly, Gabranth felt crowded. "Actions you perform here will overshadow your other deeds while serving Galbatorix. The brighter you shine, the less people will think of what you've done in the past."

His mother spoke up. "Eragon, it's up to you to make the choice but think, you'll be free. _"Free._ The single word tumbled endlessly through his mind. He would be free. And so would Saphira. But what was freedom when you were being chased? He didn't want to enslave Saphira to such a life, for if Galbatorix were to find out . . . he went cold just at the thought. _And there was the other reason._

_I will be fine._

_Will you?_ He asked.

_To be free, how I've longed for it. And so have you. Remember, I'll follow you to the ends of Alagaësia, Eragon. It's up to you to make the decision for yourself._

Trust and love, the warmth of her feelings, washed over him like a blanket. Straightening, he stared at them with determination. His eyes traveling from one person to the next person, lingering the longest on the elf. Her green eyes were bright and her expression was unreadable but he found some comfort in it and that strange feeling welled up in him again as he came to a decision. He turned back to Ajihad. "I will join the Varden, if you will accept me."

Suddenly his servants let out a shout of joy as all the fear and anxiety disappeared. His mother began to sob uncontrollably into Brom's chest, who was smiling with a tearful expression. Saphira let out a deafening roar, a jet of blue fire, crackling in the air. Hrothgar had an expression of approval on his face with the young dwarf next to him smiling. Even the elf had a smile on her face. But the Twins looked beyond shocked at his betrayal. A smile suddenly found his way onto his face.

"Let me make amends, starting with this." He turned to Ajihad. "You wonder why your agents disappear, do you not? Why Durza knew where to ambush your elven ambassador? There are spies amongst you."

"And you know who they are?" Ajihad asked, a grim expression returning to his face. Gabranth nodded, he had always disliked the Twins. Always. They took great pleasure in the fact that Galbatorix treasured them as his eyes and ears of the Varden.

"They are standing among us." He pointed towards the twins who were paling with a sheen of sweat on their faces. Hrothgar let out a yell while Ajihad's eyes widened in surprise. Without warning, they turned on their heels and fled, but before they could even move a few yards away, a ball of emerald light hit both of them square in the backs. The two of them fell to the ground.

The elf had her hand raised, a dangerous expression showing on her beautiful face. "I knew they were... unpleasant... but not to such an extent."

Ajihad was still in shock, however, as he gazed at their fallen but still breathing bodies. "The Twins?"

"Did it never occur to you?" Gabranth asked. "Only people with ranking such as theirs would be able to obtain such information and deliver it to Galbatorix with ease, for they are magicians. They, who search the minds of people joining the Varden, are able to extract every single piece of valuable information they need and then relay it to your enemies."

Returning to his normal self, Ajihad had ordered the guards to take the two of them to a cell in which to be heavily guarded. "I would never have thought it to be them."

"Aye." The young dwarf muttered, stroking his beard. "They always were a nasty pair, those Twins. What is it that you'll do with them?"

The leader of the Varden sighed, rubbing his temples. "Execution. Treason has a high price."

_Treason. _He ignored the words as the elf, with muscular grace, slinked over to them. When she came to a stop in front of him, he asked her the first thing on his mind. "Will you tell me your name now, or shall I continue to call you elf?"

A gleam appeared in her eyes. "Arya. That is my name. And should we call you Eragon or Gabranth?"

He had left the Empire, he had joined the Varden. All of his past deeds, he could throw them away, to not have them part of himself any longer. He didn't have the need to wear a mask anymore, nor bear the name Gabranth a moment longer. He lifted his helm, glancing at his reflection in it. A helm that had been a part of him for four years. Conscious of everyone staring at him, he noticed his mother's tearstained gaze on his face, along with Brom's nervous stare.

_You have your entire life ahead of you. You've used the name Gabranth because you were afraid to tarnish the name given to you by your mother. Now, you can reclaim it and live up to it, Eragon. _Saphira said.

At that, he glanced back up at Arya, his eyes shining brightly. "Eragon, please. Call me Eragon."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Ajihad and Hrothgar may have accepted him into Tronjheim, but Eragon knew that their feelings of mistrust had yet to be completely quelled. He may have won a small extent of their favor by exposing the Twins, but he knew in the end, they still did not trust him as they trusted Murtagh. But that did not unsettle him in the least. In fact, it pleased him to see such leaders wary and cautious of another strong presence amongst. They were displeased when he refused to let Arya examine his memory.

"If you want our trust…" Hrothgar began, but Eragon cut across the dwarf, in a cold tone.

"My mind is my only true sanctuary that I may claim as my own. I will not allow just anyone to sift through my thoughts and memories. It's the principle of the matter you see." He replied. "I do not think you would let anyone into your thoughts would you, _your majesty?_" he spoke the last part with much needed sarcasm.

"You are not making it possible for us to accept you without ill grace." Ajihad said, with a frown. "We cannot trust you if we don't know your true intentions with the Varden. You could easily betray us, as you betrayed your king."

"That demands the question, was I ever truly loyal to him? For how can you betray that which you never held true allegiance to?" Arya stood to the side of the discussion. Maintaining a calm demeanor, as she watched both sides argue with one another. Eventually, after another minute of heated discussion, did she decide to become involved.

"The night is late and I am sure we all would like to rest. Let us bring an end to these arguments," she turned to fully face him with a regal demeanor. "Give me your oath in the ancient language that you have no intentions of harming the Varden or willingly serving Galbatorix once more and you will lend us your strength to fight Galbatorix." Turning to Ajihad she asked, "Would that suffice?" Taking a moment to think, he replied that it would.

Eragon stared at her for a long time, neither of them blinking. With a sigh, he at last gave his word. "Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal, eka malabra du Varden né haina." _Upon my word as a Rider, I mean the Varden no harm_. She nodded, in a sharp birdlike motion.

"He has given us his oath." Hrothgar swore heavily but let it pass while Ajihad remained silent. They were not going to let this pass easily, Eragon thought. But they couldn't imprison him either, with his power he could circumvent any prison they could devise. They had no choice but to treat him with grace. The thought of that made him smile.

"Orik!" the young dwarf that had spat at Eragon earlier ambled forward at Ajihad's command. "Show our Rider where he will be staying and bring him a spare change of clothes. I would rather not see that crest again." He eyed the crimson flames on Eragon's cape and Saphira's armor with distaste. Orik nodded with great reluctance. He may have been pleased at Eragon's acceptance to join the Varden, but such feelings soon melted away when he had refused to be examined.

With that, Ajihad left; dismissing the battalion of armed dwarves and humans, with a gesture. Hrothgar, with one last glance at him, turned and strode away as well into the heart of Tronjheim. Eragon turned coming to face his mother, father, half-brother and his dragon. Standing to the side were his servants, all nervous as to what manner of punishment he would have in store for them. One glance at Murtagh brought immense feelings of distaste to him. After his earlier venting of emotions, he started to regain a sense of normalcy.

"Lord Eragon!" within seconds, his servants were upon him, anxious and fearful, apologetic expressions on their faces. Finny and Bard, however, were the two most emotional while Desdemona and Rosalie were the most composed. Finny, the youngest of the group, was clenching his hands before him, something he did when he was restless. His light hair, a mixture of red and blonde framed his face while green eyes stared up at Eragon. "We're sorry! When Lady Selena said that she was leaving we tried stopping her but—"

"Calm down, Finny." Eragon said slightly irritated at Finny's outburst.

"What Finny is trying to say is that we couldn't stop her Ladyship without the use of force." Desdemona spoke up, she was a beautiful woman with straight black hair and violet eyes, her heart shape face was haughty, in his opinion her expression looked somewhat like Arya's at the moment. "And I'm sure that you wouldn't want that, Lord Eragon. Please, forgive us."

And with that, the two women sunk in a low curtsy while the men bowed. He stared down at them. It was true, he didn't want his mother running off to the Varden but he knew that they wouldn't want to hurt her in anyway. Rubbing his temples, he sighed. "At least you're all useful for something."

Just like that, their expressions became one of pure joy. Bard, who was the oldest amongst the servants, grinned ruffling his blonde hair, his blue eyes sparkling. "What did I tell you? I knew his Lordship wouldn't hold it against us!"

"You knew? You were shaking with fear when you heard news of him arriving!" Rosalie accused. Another beautiful woman, whose most endearing features were her soft, wavy, red locks and bright green eyes. Why had he taken them in to begin with, he wondered? After letting the four of them chatter amongst themselves, his irritation had gotten the best of him.

"If you have nothing else to do but argue amongst yourself, I suggest you go and do something useful!" he ordered.

"Yes, my lord!" with that they left, running, scrambling, and walking to Tronjheim. Orik, who was watching their progress, had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"An odd group of servants you've hired." He turned his eyes back to his mother; she whispered something to Brom and Murtagh before walking over to him. And there he saw it, a gleam in her eyes that he had never seen before. She was truly happy, here in the Varden.

"I'm glad you didn't punish them. Finny and Bard looked beyond miserable when I dragged them here." His mother said, in her gentle voice. "I thought that they might drown themselves when we reached the waterfall."

He could just imagine how hysterical those two were. Orik glanced about them. "Let us be off."

With that he led them with Eragon and his mother following in tow, Arya having snuck away earlier. As they walked through the tunnels, Orik spoke. "For now, you'll be resting in one of Tronjheim's finest quarters. Seeing as you need to change your outfit," he eyed Eragon's armor and cape with distaste. "But tomorrow, you shall see the true place in which a Rider and his dragon would usually sleep, above the Isidar Mithrim, the star sapphire. Your dragon is likely inspecting the area now."

He glanced about not realizing that Saphira wasn't following them. Eragon rubbed his temples as they walked, today was a tiring day. He would make amends for ignoring Saphira tomorrow. They came to a stop in front of a large mahogany door. He was grateful for Tronjheim, like Orthíad, had taken into consideration the heights of other races. "Here is where you'll stay for the time being. By morning I will have clothes brought to you. Rest well."

When he was gone, Eragon turned to his mother. "Where are you staying?"

Her answer was a vague, as she waved about the hallway. "Somewhere close by."

He nodded, throwing open the door to his quarters; it was a spacious room indeed. An iron wrought bed stood in the center of the room, which had a writing desk against one wall that held an oil lamp. It was plain but comfortable. He was surprised when his mother stepped into the room as well, closing the door behind her. "Is something wrong?"

She stared at him for a long time and before he knew, his mother had thrown herself on him, freely sobbing. Trying not to let the sharp contours of his armor dig into her, he gently settled her on the bed, pulling away to stare at her face which had tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. "What's wrong?" he repeated.

"I just—I just feel beyond guilty that I had to drag you here in such a way." She explained. "I can imagine your panic when I left the castle and what was worse, was that during the entire journey I always teetered on the edge of uncertainty; to go back or to join the Varden. I didn't want to hurt you." And suddenly she started sobbing harder than ever. "That's all I've ever done though, hurt my youngest son."

Eragon sighed. His mother was quite distressed. What she needed was a good night's sleep to calm her nerves. Though he pressed her, for the issue had been itching at him as well. "Then why did you leave if you knew it would hurt me so much? You know how important you are to me, but yet, you still left without as much as a thought."

She wiped at her eyes, throwing brown locks of hair out of her face. "I didn't want to see you suffer anymore. To watch you wear a mask for the rest of your life. How would any mother want for their child? I love you, Eragon. I love your smile and to see you happy, but living in the Empire didn't make you happy."

"And here does? They're all cautious of me, a snake in their midst." He whispered. His mother reached out with a hand to place it on the side of his face.

"It was just as Ajihad said, if you do a number of good goods here, then that will surely overlook all of your past misdeeds." She replied softly. "And I know you'll be happy here because you'll be free, Eragon. Something you and Saphira had longed for so long. And maybe you will learn to open up more of yourself to the world around you. See new sights and meet new people."

"Who would want to meet me?" he scoffed. "I, who have killed many of the Varden's allies, members and spies."

"In time, things will change." They sat there, or rather his mother sat on the bed while he knelt before her. Moving to his feet, he turned his back to her, deciding to change the subject.

"Why did you decide to leave the castle? Was it because you heard news of the new Rider and Brom?"

"It was. I had to see for myself whether he was truly alive. And if he was, you could finally receive closure Eragon. To know if your father truly wanted to abandon you or not. I knew that if I came here, having sent you that note, you would surely come chasing after me. And you did." She explained, pausing. "I know you hate your father and possibly your brother, but please, try to treat them politely."

He sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time before turning to face his mother. "It is late and you need to rest. We'll speak more of these matters when you aren't in such a restless state."

And within half an hour his mother was tucked underneath the sheets of the bed, sleeping peacefully, her sword and dagger on the table along with her boots, bracers and greaves. That night, he sat there in the chair by the table, deep in thought. How far had Durza managed to travel already? Had he made it to Orthíad yet and assembled the Urgals to attack Farthen Dûr? Regardless, Eragon would advise Ajihad of their plans. Even if he had harbored any thoughts of withholding the information, to see the Varden's destruction, his oath compelled him to inform Ajihad. Besides, his mother was happy here in the Varden, along with Saphira. She may not have voiced it aloud, but he could feel it through their connection, she was a _free_ dragon now, amongst her brethren, Thorn and the baby dragon that he had yet to see.

He was curious, who did had it hatched for, he wondered. He sat there thinking until sleep decided to take him and when he woke his mother was gone and resting on the bed was a pile of clothing. A dark tunic made of the finest cloth and a pair of tan breeches awaited him with black leather boots resting at the edge of the bed.

He had donned them with reluctance and when he was done, Eragon found himself staring at his helm again. He looked like a different person, nothing like Gabranth. Placing the helm on the table with the rest of his armor, he left his room in search of Saphira. He didn't have a hard time searching, for she was waiting for him under the star sapphire. _Good morning, little one._

_It is. _He reached up to stroke her snout. _How did you sleep? Well, I hope._

_I did. And you?_

_Just as well. _He decided then to apologize to her. _I am sorry for ignoring you like that yesterday. I hadn't even noticed when you left._

She gently nudged him. _You were experiencing much, it is understandable. I do not blame you at all. _She blinked before gesturing him towards one of the tunnels. _Let us go for a walk; I think we both need it._

Eragon nodded and began to walk in the direction that she gestured to, with Saphira softly padding behind. They had just turned a corner, when something small and green jumped on him. It took him a moment to recognize the scales lining the creature, dark and rich, and the tail that kept swatting him in the chest. _A dragon! _Saphira's voice echoed painfully in his head.

The dragon, upon seeing Saphira, jumped off him and landed in front of her. It let out a squeak at the sight of her, before bounding up the side of her front leg and onto her back. A deep rumble formed in Saphira's chest as she was amused at the baby dragon's action.

_But who is its Rider?_

His question was answered as stepping around the corner, was Arya, appearing as regal and dignified as they had first met. He watched as the baby dragon jumped down from Saphira and into the elf's arms. "You are the Rider of the last egg?" he asked, the shock of the revelation overwhelming him.

Fate did have a way of bringing things together, Eragon thought as he watched Arya and her dragon. She nodded, holding up her right hand for him to clearly see the gedwëy insignia. "He hatched for me a few days after we had escaped Gil'ead."

Eragon looked at her thoughtfully. Arya turned to address Saphira respectfully. "We meet again, Saphira."

Saphira acknowledged her. _Though now in better circumstances. Does he have a name? _She gestured towards the baby dragon.

Arya shook her head. "No, he is still too young to speak." Her green eyes turned back to him. "Your new clothing seems to fit you well."

"It does, doesn't it? Though I can't help but feel a little exposed, having worn full armor for the greater portion of the last four years."

She replied, with a small hint of a smile. "I hope you are not too uncomfortable. Walk with me; I would like to speak with you."

He nodded and the two of them fell into step beside one another. After a moment's silence did she finally speak, her voice had a hint of trill, as if she were about to sing. "I owe you a debt that must be repaid. You saved my life. That can never be forgotten. And you gave me something precious, which in turn grew to give the Varden hope."

His eyes darted down to the dragon before returning to her face. "Then I shall see if there is ever a time in which you may repay such a debt."

She nodded, turning to gaze ahead of him. "You never answered my question back in Gil'ead. Why did you rescue me? Why did you let me leave with Murtagh and the last egg?"

He shrugged. "I rather you not die at the hands of Durza. I have told you before haven't I? If you're going to fight for the Varden, being alive will come in handy." His expression darkened. "And I would rather you not meet Galbatorix."

She opened her mouth to say more, but a guard rushed up to them. The two of them turned to him. Eragon watched as the young man's eyes flickered to Arya in awe before stopping to rest on Eragon. "Ajihad requests your presence in his study, Arya and Eragon."

Arya dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I will lead Eragon there." The young man nodded and with one last glance towards them, ran back the way he came. They walked in silence, taking four sharp turns before stopping before a massive cedar door, stained black with age. Arya pulled it open and allowed him to walk in before her. Eragon entered an elegant, two-story study paneled with rows of cedar bookshelves. An iron-wrought staircase wound up to a small balcony with two chairs and a reading table. White lanterns hung along the walls and ceiling so a book could be read anywhere in the room. The stone floor was covered by an intricate oval rug. At the far end of the room, Ajihad sat behind a large walnut desk.

He glanced up at their arrival. "Eragon, Arya please seat yourselves." Both of them slid into an armchair before Ajihad, as Saphira Settled behind them and the baby dragon rested on Arya's lap. Ajihad studied Eragon with a critical eye. "Those clothes suit you." He stated.

Eragon nodded. "They do quite well, thank you. But you didn't call me here for pleasantries did you?"

Ajihad sighed, and for once, Eragon saw some of his age. "I called you here to speak of the Twins." He glanced at Arya, who stiffened. "You deserve to hear what I have to say, as you've lost two companions due to them, Arya."

She nodded, her stiff posture never relaxing.

Ajihad returned his eyes to Eragon. "Since this is the opportune time to test your loyalty and see if you've truly abandoned the Empire, Eragon," His voice grew grave and his expression solemn.

"I'm placing you as the twin's executioner."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Hello again everyone! I was hard pressed to get this chapter up but it's up! I'm not going to say much so you can all get to your reading. I can't wait to upload the battle with Durza. Happy reading! Eragon=CP. R&R!**

They sat in silence, taking time to contemplate Ajihad's suggestion. Eragon felt sorry for the man. Executing the Twins was not as much of a test as he believed it to be. While it would prove his loyalty in a firm manner, morally it would not bother him in the least. He had always hated the Twins and their demeaning messages that were sent to him. Killing the Twins would almost be like stepping on an ant. It did not matter to him. _Eragon, since we're here, we might as well take the opportunity to inform Ajihad about the Urgals' plans._

_Yes, you are right._ He nodded. How to broach the topic? Trying to devise an eloquent way to address the subject, Eragon soon gave up when he found that he could not. Instead, he decided to speak plainly. "Executing the Twins won't be an issue. Also, if you can spare the time," Eragon began, straightening in his armchair, "there is another matter I need to discuss with you."

Ajihad nodded, motioning for him to continue. "Durza is leading an army of Urgals to Farthen Dûr." Even for someone as cold and aloof as Eragon, he hated the way it came off his tongue. It was if he were discussing the weather. Shocked expressions spread across both Ajihad's and Arya's faces.

"They're going to attack Farthen Dûr?" Ajihad asked. He nodded. _Did I stutter? _Eragon thought, irritated.

"When?" asked Arya, her appearance by now calm.

Eragon shrugged. "Soon. Today, tomorrow, or maybe the day after. I don't know when, but I do know their course of action." _I helped them devise it._ He watched as Ajihad rang a small bell, and soon after a guard entered the room. Ajihad ordered him to bring Brom, Orik, Murtagh and someone by the name of Jörmundur.

"The Twins' execution will have to wait then." Ajihad said with a sigh. Eragon frowned. It seemed a foolish thing to do. If Durza burst in, he could free those two imbeciles and they could wreak havoc on the small army that the Varden possessed.

"I think the wiser plan would be to kill them before Durza arrives here and has the chance to free them." Eragon said. "I would rather not have two spellcasters running amok during the battle."

"Then it'll have to be a private execution," Ajihad murmured. His eyes returned to Eragon. "How large are their numbers?"

"Quite massive." Eragon smiled wolfishly. "Though when compared to the fact that you have two large dragons fighting on your side, such numbers are less threatening." Saphira hummed contently behind him. _And imagine their confusion when they see you, Eragon. The human who earned their respect through Tarok's challenge of strength._

He nodded. Yes, another advantage to be had. The doors burst open again and in walked Brom, Murtagh, Orik and a man whom Eragon had yet to meet, who could be none other than Jörmundur. Ajihad introduced the two to one another. "Eragon, meet Jörmundur, my right-hand man in military matters."

He nodded and stood, kicking his armchair out behind him, as Arya did the same. They stood around the desk as Ajihad spread out a map of the Beor Mountains. "Something has happened then, Ajihad?" Jörmundur asked.

"We're going to be attacked, if," he glanced sharply at Eragon, "my sources are correct."

"The oath I gave would not allow me to lie, even if I tried to. Nor is my information inaccurate," he replied coldly. "If I may?" He gestured towards the map. Ajihad nodded, allowing him reign to explain their situation. He pointed to three different locations on the map. "They're going to attack Tronjheim in three separate areas within Farthen Dûr. They are traveling from Orthíad. Galbatorix has renamed the city Ithro Zhada, in an attempt to deceive you, in case you learned of his plans," he continued; ignoring the murmured curses. Only Ajihad and Arya remained silent. "I'm unsure if Durza will be leading the attack directly, but their main goal is the capture of Tronjheim. Because if they seize that—"

"Then they'll destroy the Varden and gain control of the dwarves. It's the very heart of Farthen Dûr," Arya finished. He nodded.

"The only things we have as an advantage are surprise, and the dragons," Eragon declared. "Surprise being the fact that since we have the upper hand, we can prepare and despite their overwhelming numbers, prevail. And if we can gather enough oil and other flammable materials, we can let the Urgals bake in flames."

"It's surprising how you can easily talk about killing Urgals, when they were your allies a few days ago," Murtagh muttered. His temper flared as he glared at the tall, dark-haired boy.

"The Urgals were never my allies," he said casually. "It disgusted me to see them raid our towns and villages." He turned back to the map. "They know that if you were to find out, you would be able to collapse the tunnels, but seeing as all of Tronjheim is above a network of tunnels, collapsing every one wouldn't bring the tide of battle to our favor."

"Aye," agreed Orik.

"We need only to collapse a few, to influence their chosen paths. Otherwise we may force them too far from their intended exits. That could lead to them encircling our position. If they had us back to back, it would be a losing battle." He pointed to three different spots on the map, each further from the last. "A battalion will be waiting for them at each point. If we can get them to follow those particular routes, we can set a trap."

"A sound strategy." Jörmundur spoke with a confident tone, his eyes following every trace Eragon made on the map.

"There is also another matter of confusion that will work to our advantage," said Eragon.

"Confusion?" asked Brom. "How so?"

Eragon attempted to not look annoyed by Brom having spoken directly to him. He did his best to answer the question without straining his voice. "Before Saphira and I left Orthíad, I gained the Urgals' trust in a challenge of strength. If they still consider me one of their 'formidable leaders', then it will surely cause confusion if they see me fighting against them within your numbers."

Ajihad nodded before taking control of the meeting. "Arya, I would like for you and a number of dwarves to collapse some of the tunnels inside Tronjheim. We cannot allow them to enter the city, as Eragon has said. Murtagh, you and Orik shall collapse those outside the city. They have to take the bait and divert to the tunnels of our choosing. Eragon, I'll have a guard lead you to where the Twins are so you may proceed with their execution."

He nodded as Ajihad sent for the guard. "Meet me under the star sapphire once you've all completed your tasks, I would like for us to form ranks there."

Leaving the room, he broke off from Arya, Murtagh, and Orik, Saphira following him down the hall as they trailed behind the guard. The guard led him into a small hallway that was lined with cells, bringing him to the one at the end on the left. Eragon stood in front of it and murmured incantations, taking off the wards he had placed to prevent the Twins escaping using magic. When he was done, he nodded at the guard who unlocked it and swung it open. Stepping inside he found great pleasure at the sight of the two men sitting on the dirty ground, their robes covered with small smudges of filth. "Ah, we meet again," said Eragon.

"And what would you want?" one twin said boldly. "Have you come here to boast? Wait until the King finds out."

"I wonder when that will happen. In the meantime, the task has been set to me to dispose of the filth." He smiled when their eyes widened in surprise. "I've always hated killing helpless people. But I'll be sure to make it quick."

"You wouldn't dare! If the King hears word of this—"

"Enough. Do not think you can frighten me with such threats. Aiding the Varden has already assured me of death, or worse," Eragon muttered, a dark expression passing over his face. He pulled out one of his swords, remembering all of the times the Twins had ridiculed him as a child. His expression became both cold and pitiless as he stared at them. "Now, since you are twins, let's see how much love you have for one another. Who shall be the first to die?" The Twins looked at one another. Neither of them spoke a word.

"You don't want to decide? Very well, I shall make the decision for you." Eragon said vehemently. He advanced on the one closest to him, ignoring the shouts of the other twin. With a flash of his arm, his silver blade easily pierced the bald man through the heart and reappeared through his back. The ground was splattered with blood when he pulled his blade out. Hiding his disgust, he pushed away the feelings that rose of having to kill the twins in such a helpless situation. He would have preferred to kill them in a battlefield, in honest combat.

He turned from the limp body to see the second twin slumped against the wall, twitching wildly. A soundless howl escaped his lips. Eragon ignored him, slowly drawing back his blade. The second twin was then able to regain control over himself. Breathing heavily, he looked at Eragon with loathing in his eyes.

"Curse you, Eragon! May you leave Alagaësia and never return!" His blade cut through the air, piercing the remaining twin in the chest. He pulled his blade free, wiping the blood on one of the twin's robe. _Leave Alagaësia_, he thought, staring down at the two dead bodies strewn over the floor, as he sheathed his blade. _As if I am not cursed enough._

Leaving the cell, he nodded towards the guard. "It is done." Without another word, he approached Saphira, who waited for him at the end of the hallway. _To the Isidar Mithrim._

_Yes, _he nodded. It did not take long for them to reach the large central chamber, underneath the star sapphire, where Ajihad stood with Brom, Hrothgar, Orik and everyone else of importance. Eragon stopped before the dark skinned man. "You've done it then?"

"If you would like proof, one of your guards can go and drag their bodies here for you to see," Eragon replied. Ajihad nodded, letting the matter pass, before turning back to the assembly.

"It has been decided that we will spilt our forces into three battalions. I shall lead one, as will King Hrothgar. Jörmundur, you will lead the third battalion closet to Tronjheim with the three Riders," Ajihad explained.

"Would it not be prudent to have one Rider accompany you? Arya, Eragon or Murtagh could lend great assistance to your Battalion," said Jörmundur.

"It's a necessary strategy. We need our strongest warriors to defend the heart of Farthen Dûr. If it lends any comfort to your concerns; your battalion will have the smallest amount of soldiers." Jörmundur nodded in acceptance.

Ajihad nodded. "A scout is searching through the tunnels as we speak. We will have information on their movements soon, for now; you should all prepare and rest. This battle will be hard fought."

With that they dispersed, going their separate ways. Catching sight of Arya and her dragon, Eragon voiced a concern to Saphira. _Her dragon cannot fight, he is far too young. Arya is surely concerned for his safety._

Saphira agreed. _Yes, he is but a hatchling._

Thinking quickly and with Saphira's encouragement, he reluctantly came to a decision. Before Arya left, he called to her, eyeing the young dragon in her arms. "I doubt you will bring him with you into battle, so where will you leave him?"

She eyed him closely, bright emerald orbs flashing. "My quarters, though I would rather not leave him on his own."

Eragon pointed to the dragonhold above them. "Before the battle, Saphira could fly him to the dragonhold, where my servants would guard him. If they are at all threatened, they will alert me. We could fly there in time to aid them."

Her brows furrowed at his suggestion. "Are you certain of their abilities?"

"They are more capable than they appear. I would trust them with Saphira and my mother's lives. Your dragon would be safe with them. I give you my word," Eragon asserted. After a few moments of silence on her part, she nodded.

"Let us go with your plan then." He nodded as she walked away. To his surprise, Saphira followed. _What? I want to spend more time with the hatchling._

As she walked away, he noticed, as he had noticed earlier, Arya's movements were unusually stiff. She seemed to be struggling with something. Ajihad's words floated through his thoughts. _You deserve to hear what I have to say, as you've lost two companions due to them, Arya._

_She wanted revenge._ He could both understand and sympathize with her pain. Feeling that it was still too early to retire for the night, Eragon began to wander the halls. After walking for some time, he came to a hallway adorned with carvings on either side. At the end of the hallway, an unusually large cat sat, licking its shaggy paw. It glanced at him, and he saw a flash of slanted red eyes.

_A werecat?_ He thought curiously.

The werecat shook its rough mane, and yawned languorously, displaying long fangs. It then stretched, stood quickly and with a flick of its paws, disappeared around a corner. Eragon — letting curiosity take the better of him — walked after the werecat. After rounding the corner, he saw that the werecat had waited for him before a door.

_You are quite slow for a Rider, aren't you? _The werecat asked, touching his mind.

_I did not feel the need to run._

_Much more refined than your brother, I like that._

_You have met Murtagh before?_

The werecat nodded. _He didn't take my advice and ended up getting shocked by an ancient artifact. And may I ask your name?_

_Eragon. And what should I call you?_

_Solembum. _His red eyes regarded Eragon lazily. _You are far more educated than Murtagh. He thought I was a regular cat when we had first met. Coming? _He turned towards the door and with a yowl, he slid inward. He cautiously followed the werecat inside. Eragon found himself in an earthy two-room suite, lavishly decorated with carved wood and clinging plants. The air was warm, fresh and humid. Bright lanterns hung on the walls and from the low ceiling. Piles of intriguing items cluttered the floor, obscuring corners. A large four-poster bed curtained by even more plants was in a far room.

In the center of the main room, in a stuffed leather chair that was seated behind a large wooden desk, was a young woman with thick curls. To his surprise, sitting before her in a similar chair was Rosalie. "Lord Eragon!" She hurriedly stood at his appearance. "What are you doing here?"

He noticed with further surprise, that Solembum arched his back against Rosalie's leg. "Following Solembum. And you?"

"Just meeting some old friends. I'll be on my way now." She turned to whisper something to the woman in the leather seat, before curtsying to him. "My lord."

"Before you leave, tell Desdemona that I would like to have a word with the both of you tomorrow." She nodded and hurried from the room. He would ask her about that later. Eragon turned back to the woman before him. She waved brightly at him.

"Sit down, boy, don't stand there all day!" he did as she said and sat before her, curiosity getting the better of him. As he studied the room, he found it odd that she had such things and was in the company of a werecat. The only reason she would have all of these strange plants and that she had befriended such a creature would be if she were a witch. "Solembum has told me that your name is Eragon." He nodded. "We are well met, I am Angela."

"It is a pleasure."

She sat forward, studying him. "I've heard much about you since your arrival. Brother to Murtagh, son to Brom, and what's more, you're the King's Rider, Gabranth! Or you used to be, I should say. A most intriguing life you've led thus far. And I thought your brother's life was interesting when I told him his future. It makes me wonder—"

She hurriedly left her seat, bustling about the room before returning with a black pouch and thick cloth that she laid on the table. "Would you like your fortune told?"

He raised a brow. "Why the sudden offer?"

"Because of Solembum, he rarely speaks to anyone. I have only offered to do this for three other people and two of them were your family. Your mother, Selena and your brother, Murtagh." He felt himself frown at the mention of them both. "The other was a blind beggar, but he refused to listen to his fortune."

"How would you predict my fortune?"

Angela poured a handful of smooth bones onto the cloth, each slightly longer than a finger. Runes and symbols were inscribed along their sides. "These," she said, touching them gently, "are the knucklebones of a dragon. Don't ask where I got them; it is a secret I won't reveal. They do not lie, though understanding them is complicated. But understand that to know one's fate can be a terrible thing. You must be sure of your decision."

_If my mother and if Murtagh had theirs told, surely I can withstand my own fate. _He nodded. "Cast the bones for me."

Angela's face became grave as she grasped the bones in each hand. Her eyes closed, and her lips moved into a soundless murmur. Then she said powerfully, "_Manin! Wydra! Hügin!" _Memory! Fate! Thought! From that moment, Eragon knew that she was much more than a common spell caster. She tossed the bones and they fell, jumbled together.

Finally Angela leaned back and heaved a long sigh. "This," she said, "is one of the hardest readings I've ever done. Maybe even harder than your brother's. And let me tell you, it was hard. Your future is nigh impossible to see. But I've managed to wrestle a few answers from it."

Solembum jumped onto the table and settled there, watching them both. "I will start here," she said slowly, "because it is the clearest to understand."

The symbol on the bone was a long horizontal line with a circle resting on it. "Infinity, or long life," said Angela quietly. "It is natural, as you're a Rider, though this is only the second time I've seen it. The first was for your brother." She moved onwards. "Now the bones grow harder to read, as the rest are in a confused pile." Angela touched three of them. "Here the wandering path, the lightning bolt, and sailing ship all lie together— a pattern I've never seen, only heard of. You have many choices that lie before you, battles raging around you, some fought for your sake. There is a doom upon you that of which I do not know. And the last bone, the sailing ship, is impossible to misunderstand. You will leave this land forever."

Suddenly the twin's voice echoed in his mind. _May you leave Alagaësia and never return! _He shook the thought away as she continued. She pointed to another bone and the symbol upon it was flames. "Hatred and vengeance seem to dominate you." He nodded for that was true. "And soon you shall face a great sorrow."

_A great sorrow? _Angela rubbed her temples and breathed deeply. "The next bone is easier to read and perhaps more pleasant." Eragon examined it and saw a rose blossom inscribed between the horns of a crescent moon.

Angela smiled and said, "An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates—for that is a magical symbol—and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."

Eragon frowned as he sat back. _Love?_ _Don't make me laugh, who would I come to love? _But in the back of his mind, he had an inkling that he knew who Angela spoke of. He sighed, for his life was beyond complicated. His eyes traveled back to the bones, resting the longest on the last one, taking in the rose and moon.

**So what did you all think? Good? I'll have the following chapters up as fast as I can but my life is getting pretty hectic. The fortune that Angela told is basically the same in the book but I changed some things here and there, not that much. Anyways, I can't wait for you all to read to chapter with the fighting with Durza, which I shall post after this chapter I think or maybe the next. Don't forget to review! I'm open for suggestions.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Well, another chapter up! You can't believe how excited I am to write the battle in Farthen Dûr next. I'm going to keep this short and sweet so you could all go on reading. :) I don't own Eragon. But still happy reading! R&R!**

As Ajihad had expected, a scout returned two days later, bloodied, wounded and speaking incoherently about a mass of Urgals traveling to Farthen Dûr. The Varden started preparations the same day; women and children were sent out to safety in the surrounding valleys. Oil and other flammables were collected and poured where he had directed. Large defensive stakes were made and placed at the tunnel entrances. During the preparations, Eragon found himself standing in a circle of three women with a dragon hatchling in their midst. Saphira volunteered to help with the stakes.

They stared at each other, Eragon finding the situation unnerving. With the revelation of Angela's prophecy, he studied Arya more carefully. Everything Angela had said fit her description, except for noble birth and heritage. Yet, when he had first met her, she had displayed such authority; he thought he was indeed talking to a princess. "But my lord!" Desdemona said indignantly, interrupting his train of thought. "How can we help defend you if we're guarding the hatchling?"

"You can help a great deal." Eragon replied. He did not understand why both women glared at him with such intensity. Despite being a Rider and a half-elf, he had never understood the ways of females. To try to interfere was to tread on alien matters that one could not hope to comprehend.

"Why not have Finny and Bard guard the dragon?" Rosalie asked. The woman, who normally was very kind and gentle natured, was fuming on the spot. Saphira — who had been watching from his eyes — let her amusement wash over their connection. _You have much to understand of women if you ever intend to take a mate. They can be deadlier than the sharpest of swords._

_Indeed. _He had learned firsthand how odd women could be, by having a female dragon as a life partner. "You know as well as I do that Bard and Finny will sooner forget the presence of Arya's dragon than to protect it." For a reason unbeknownst to Eragon, their tempers only rose higher.

"My lord, what of your mother?" Desdemona challenged.

"She and Brom are going to remain in the Dragon Hold as well, so you may guard the three of them together."

"What of your own safety?"

"What of me?" he said. "I am fully capable of defending myself. Though I am grateful you are concerned for me." He bowed his head slightly at them. "It would please me for you to take on this task, for I trust only the two of you to do it competently."

When he lifted his head, they were standing there, quiet and resigned. Finally, Desdemona spoke. "We shall guard the hatchling with our lives along with Lady Selena." Arya, who had been quiet throughout the entire argument, spoke.

"I thank you for your assistance in this matter."

Rubbing his temple, Eragon thanked the gods that the ordeal was over. "I'll leave the three, no, four of you," he corrected as the green dragon let out an indignant half squeak, half roar at being forgotten, "to your own business."

Turning on his heels, he left their presence with relief. That was an odd event. Usually Desdemona and Rosalie were very agreeable with anything he could ask them to do. However, when he had instructed them to guard Arya's dragon, they went into a rage. He came to a stop by Orik, who was directing Finny where to put the stakes. The dwarf glanced up at his approach. "That looked like a rather nasty scene, those three women."

"Aye that it was."

"Your servants are very helpful, Argetlam." Orik said knowingly before gesturing to Finny. "His strength is unnatural."

Eragon nodded. "It is why I hired him. Finny is an unusual boy, despite his past." He may act idiotic as well, but Eragon held a small trace of respect for the boy. He had been through a terrible ordeal, yet was still able to remain whole and happy, unlike Eragon.

"Lord Eragon!" Finny said in his cheerful tone, spotting him. "Am I doing a good job?"

He nodded. "An amazing job, I should tell you. It seems you are being a big help to the workers around here." That was enough to send the boy flying back to work. Rarely did he ever bestow praise on anyone. Deciding that he should lend his assistance; he went to the armory, where he could help distribute armor and weapons to the soldiers.

Taking a piece of twine that was knotted together long enough to measure most any human's height; he busied himself measuring the warriors. He gave them armor that would fit them well and weapons that suited them. "You seem to have a knack for that." He did not have to glance up to know the voice belonged to Arya.

"Do you need to be fitted?" he asked, surely Arya had her own armor. She shook her head.

"I was wandering about and ended up here. A coincidence it is, to find you here as well." She said, leaning against one of the tables. He noticed that her dragon was not with her. When he voiced this, she said simply, "He was interested in Saphira."

A small flicker of irritation welled up within Eragon. It was not that he didn't want her to speak with her own kind, but the more Saphira and Arya's hatchling were in company, the more interested they each became. He was sure that soon, he would have to compete for the sapphire dragon's attention. "I see," he muttered, attempting not to crush the human soldier's arm as he laced the man's greaves together.

When he was done he turned back to Arya. "Is there something you needed?"

"An answer to a question," she replied. He raised a brow, giving her consent to ask whatever was on her mind. "Why do you look as you do? Most human Riders do not acquire such appearances after even a decade of bonding with their dragon. Even if they did, most never looked as close to my race as you do."

"I wondered why no one had asked me that," he said. "Saphira changed me. I needed to become stronger. She agreed and with her magic and Galbatorix's ugly spells, she granted me strength and power. An unforeseen effect was my appearance."

She nodded, deep in thought. While she stood thinking, Eragon moved on, fitting a dwarf next in line. It was not until he had finished fitting two more dwarves and a human archer that Arya spoke again. "Did Galbatorix not offer you more power when you served him?"

"That he did…but I refused. The way in which he acquired his power, in my opinion, is morally wrong." At this her eyes flashed as she turned to him.

"You know how he gets stronger as time passes?"

"I do and I'm sure that your Queen knows it as well." He replied, ignoring her scorching stare. A hand reached out and gripped his wrist forcefully, and he found himself staring into depths of never-ending green.

"What is it, Eragon?"

"I shall tell you when the time is appropriate. Not now, not here." Pulling himself free of her grasp, he turned to the soldier who was waiting to be fitted. He glanced from Arya's dangerous expression to Eragon's cold one with frightened eyes.

Measuring the soldier, Eragon asked questions pertaining to which type of weapon he preferred, returning with a spear for the man. Arya, who was leaning against one of the tables, straightened and with a piece of twine, assisted in helping him measure. He had to admit, her presence was overwhelming the dwarves and humans. Their apprehension was most apparent when she went to measure them. Their body tensed and their answers were spoken quickly.

When they were done with the last soldier, Eragon pulled himself up on one of the tables, letting his long legs tangle a few inches from the ground. Arya did the same and they sat side by side, their arms barely touching. Thoughts of the coming battle loomed over his mind. "Are you prepared to fight the Urgals?" He glanced at her curiously; it was a question he had already answered. She elaborated. "You said so yourself, you won their trust in a challenge of strength, and now you're turning against them. Does it not bother you?"

Eragon turned his gaze upwards, studying the ceiling for a while before answering her question. "Should I be? Someone who betrayed his Empire? Betrayed his people?" When she did not answer, he continued. "I've done many things in my life, things that would make any normal person go mad with grief and sick with sorrow. Betraying people, who I've never held true allegiance towards, would do little to move me."

"I see."

"Do you?" he asked, they sat there, letting silence wash over them. Neither of them spoke, nor showed any indication of speaking. "What will you do after this battle?"

She started to swing her legs in the opposite direction. "I will lead Murtagh to Ellesméra to complete his training, along with our dragons' training and my own. I expect you will accompany us." She replied, impishly.

"Do you think it wise for me to train in Ellesméra?"

"You fear it would not be?" Her green eyes turned to him, displaying curiosity.

"Four years, I've lived as Gabranth, and I've killed as Gabranth," he said slowly. "It would seem your kind has more reason kill me than train such a traitor of a Rider."

"You presume much," she said coldly, eyes flashing.

"Is it wrong to do so?" he went on. "I am sorry if I've caused you offence, but I am certain that I speak the truth. I believe I would not be easily welcomed into your forest."

"Queen Islanzadí would not allow harm to befall you, though it is true that trust will be hard to gain. There is the fact that you saved my life and allowed us to gain another — two — Dragon Riders." They fell silent again, then she spoke. "I have never seen such an odd group as your servants."

"Despite their oddities, they are kind-hearted, and they have the ability to protect my mother while I'm not around," he said. "All four of them have their own unique talents."

"They are very loyal to you," she commented.

"That they are," he agreed, knowing the extent of their loyalties. "But despite their disposition, do not take them for what they are. Like elves, their true natures are hidden behind masks." His brown eyes finally met hers. It was just for a moment, before he returned to studying the ceiling.

"Why did you serve Galbatorix?" His expression tightened and he clenched his jaw. Why did he? Was it his naïveté? Was it his fear? Not being able to withstand her piercing gaze, he spoke quietly.

"You may think it—" suddenly, loud voices interrupted them, and he turned to find Murtagh and Orik entering the armory. At the sight of his half-brother, he stood and turned to them. They stared at each other, brown eyes meeting gray eyes. For the few days that they were there, he had never been able to bring himself to speak directly to his half-brother. At every opportunity, he tried to avoid the other Rider, despite the fact that Thorn was often in company with Saphira.

"We've received word that the Urgals are near and everyone is preparing at the tunnel. You two should get ready as well." Orik turned to Eragon. "Saphira has already been fitted with her armor, your servants wished for me to pass this onto you."

He nodded. "Thank you." With one glance back at Arya, he strode past the two of them and out of the armory. He had refused to wear the armor offered to him by Hrothgar and had chosen instead to don his own armor, so as to confuse the Urgals. Pulling on the familiar metal, he tied the black cape about his shoulders and took hold of his helm, staring at it. As of today, he would fight behind this helm not as Gabranth but as Eragon. Tucking the metal helm underneath his arm, he headed to where his battalion was preparing.

Saphira was there, waiting beside Thorn. The two dragons were fitted with their armor. He had to admit; the sight of them would put fear into any sane person. She turned towards him, taking in the sight of him and his armor. _I have already flown Desdemona, Rosalie and the hatchling to the dragon hold._

_And my mother?_

_Thorn flew her and Brom there as well._

He nodded. _You look frightening. _Her sapphire blue eyes gleamed at his compliment, her tail twitching slightly side from side.

_How sweet of you. _He allowed a smile to flit across his face before it turned grim. _I can hear their progress. They are far, but in time they will come through the tunnel._

_Are you ready to fight the battle that you yourself had claimed the Varden would lose?_

He smirked. _A claim I made only because they did not then have us on their side._

At this, a deep choking sound erupted from between Saphira's maw. He grinned and reached out to gently stroke her blue snout, reveling in her happiness, even as they were about to step into battle. _You should go speak to Arya. She will want to hear the answer to her question._

_And you can speak with Thorn, he seems curious about you as well. A potential mate perhaps? _At this she growled at his back, as he walked away in search of the elf woman.

Hundreds of lanterns were fixed atop poles and stuck into the ground. They provided a great pool of light that glowed like an evening sun. Fires blazed along the rim of the tunnel's roof, huge cauldrons of pitch heating over them. Rows of sharpened saplings were being pounded into the ground to provide a thorny barrier between the battalion and the tunnel. Eragon could make out Finny's form, clad in armor, digging the trench with ease, off to the side Bard filling it with pointy stakes. Eventually Saphira and Thorn wandered over to help and to his distaste, so did Murtagh.

As he turned to study the encampment, he found Arya sitting thirty feet away, her bow in her lap. Eragon's armor clanked together as he made his way towards her and she glanced up at his approach. "You wear the Empire's crest," she stated simply as he sat beside her. He placed his helm on the ground before him, the light from the lantern shining on the metal.

"So that I may confuse the Urgals," he replied coolly. His eyes studied the soldiers, dwarves and humans alike. They were tensed and some nervous. "It seems they haven't fought a battle in some time."

"The humans maybe, but the dwarves, no," Arya said turning her eyes back to him. They sat there comfortably, until Arya finally asked about her question from before, in the armory. "You did not answer my question earlier."

"That is owing to the fact I'd rather not Murtagh, nor anyone else know of my past."

"And yet you tell me." Her eyes became bright with curiosity. "Why is that?"

"I believe that you would not pity me." He watched as Finny fell ungraciously into the trench as he lost his footing. "You asked me why I served Galbatorix when he knew not my true name, nor cast any spells on me. Then I tell you; I was afraid."

Finny had quickly regained his footing and was being berated by Bard. "I was but a child when Saphira hatched for me. How was I to understand that something, which was both a miracle and yet at that time a curse, had happened?" His eyes traveled over to Saphira, who seemed to be conversing with Thorn. "Galbatorix would not permit us to be together until I gave my oath to follow him. He locked us away, and it was a highly... _painful_ experience. Eventually, he came to realize that Saphira was the only female dragon left and his tortures relented. But he still demanded unswerving loyalty. And what could I have done but give it to him? My mother lived in Urû'baen and he had a dragon hatchling who was connected to me. I was at his mercy. I soon gave in, but I refused to give him my oath. At the time, he knew how afraid I was, how powerless I was. There was no way to run, no escape. Galbatorix eventually realized I had accepted my fate and knew not to push, for Saphira would rather kill herself than give her oath, and that would put her race to extinction."

He sighed. "You may call me weak, but that was the only path available for me to survive; for my mother and dragon to survive."

_Eragon…_ Saphira spoke gently in his mind. But she said no more, for words were not needed to describe her affection and love for him. Her unconditional love was the constant that had kept him sane over the years. He turned to stare at Arya, to find an inscrutable expression on her face. "Perhaps, if I had not been afraid, I wouldn't have turned out to be who I am now."

"Even the strongest of minds would have fallen to such an onslaught by Galbatorix, and they have done," Arya affirmed. He felt himself snort. She had an odd way of comforting people, but he found it helpful nonetheless.

"Perhaps you are right." He turned to stare back at the tunnel. He could see from a distance that Murtagh and Orik had gone to sleep. Any seasoned warrior knew to rest whenever possible. There was nothing to gain remaining tensed up, waiting for the battle to start. "Do you think your Queen would be happy to know that at least one elf is a Rider?"

He saw her hands around her bow tighten. "I am not sure, but we both will know when we arrive in Ellesméra."

"If we live long enough to get there, you mean," Said Eragon. She favored him with a faint smile as she nodded. They sat in silence, not speaking but waiting. He did not how long they sat there, but his sensitive ears picked out the scrambling in the tunnel.

Eragon rose in a fluid motion and placing his helm atop his head, he turned to watch as Arya alerted the resting soldiers. They all rose, taking their places. Striding past them, with Saphira behind him and Bard and Finny guarding his flank, he came to a stop before the oil that separated the battalion and the tunnel, a good thirty feet in front of the rest of the warriors. The shouting of harsh voices reached his ears, and he could feel Saphira ready herself behind him.

If all went well, then not too many of their men would die in this battle. If all went well.

**So, what did you all think? Good? I can't wait to upload the next chapter but until then, please review! And also, I have a question for all of you readers. How do you feel about a FF with the concept of Eragon traveling back in time? I've been thinking long on this subject and I wasn't sure whether or not I should write it. But I think it sounds rather interesting, don't you?**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**Another chapter everyone! The battle! Hehe. I tried my best to write it well, so I hope you all will like it! The next chapter is halfway done! I don't own Eragon. R&R!**

"It has begun!" Bard exclaimed, with an excited expression. Behind Eragon, the troops on the encampment stood alertly with their weapons drawn. Comparatively, he stood silently; patiently watching the tunnel entrance, waiting for them to come bursting through.

Together, he, Saphira and his servants watched the dark mouth of the tunnel from where they stood, thirty feet before the battalion. A minute dragged by, then another . . . and another. Soon the movement behind the rocks became loud enough for normal ears to register. "I hear them!" cried a man. He could feel Finny stiffen beside him as Bard unsheathed his sword. No one moved . . . no one breathed. Somewhere close by, a horse nickered.

Harsh Urgal shouts shattered the air, as dark shapes boiled towards the tunnel's opening. He held his hands up to signal the soldiers to halt in their process of pouring scalding liquid into the tunnel's hungry throat. Then the Urgals emerged, their numbers halting at the sight of him. He recognized the Urgal in the lead, Gashz, who held up his hands to signal his brethren to stop. They did so, presenting a solid wall of bodies to the men and dwarves. Gashz stepped forward, not bothered that he was walking in a pool of oil. He held his head high in a sign of respect. "Lord Gabranth, what is the meaning of this?"

He could hear the Battalion move uneasily behind him. Eragon spoke, his voice possessing power and authority. "Do you and your kin still recognize me as a formidable leader?"

"We do, you have proven to us your strength." Gashz confirmed. Eragon nodded. He gestured towards the tunnel in which they had emerged.

"Then I order you to leave Farthen Dûr, and I grant you your freedom from the Empire." He watched as shock and surprise gripped them, followed by suspicion.

"We have orders from Durza to attack Farthen Dûr and kill every human and dwarf here."

"Think of what you're saying, Gashz," said Eragon. "You follow Durza as your leader, but has he ever won it from you, as is tradition by your kin? No. Instead he takes authority over you and your race without right. I accepted your challenge that was put to me and succeeded. Ushnark has also given me authority over your people, has he not?"

The Urgal nodded. _Good, now if you would just fall for it. _"Then as your leader, I order you to turn back and leave Farthen Dûr!"

They all stood there, waiting breathlessly as Gashz thought on his decision. Finally, the Urgal raised his head. He let out harsh shouts and to his surprise, some of the Urgals began to turn about, leaving Farthen Dûr.

"Very well, Lord Gabranth, I shall heed your orders. But I think that not all of my kin will leave with me." Eragon nodded and watched as he too left until all movement was gone and a significantly smaller wall of Urgals stood in front of him. One of the Urgals stepped forward, raising his sword.

With a fluid motion, Eragon drew both of his swords, the metal gleaming at his side. "I see you refuse to follow my orders," he whispered. "Insubordination pays a high price." _Saphira._

The great sapphire dragon let out a thunderous roar. _They will burn._ He watched as her jaws opened and a great torrent of flames erupted, yellow with a tinge of blue. Immediately the oil caught fire, burning every Urgal within its hungry mouth. He raised his hand and the soldiers began to pour more hot oil into the mouth of the tunnel.

Immediately, arrows began to fly over them from behind, eating away at the Urgal's numbers. Despite many Urgals having followed Gashz, their force was still large. Eragon did not worry; he had Saphira to burn them away. The Urgal line wavered, threatening to break, but they covered themselves with their shields and weathered the attack.

Their army formed a solid mass of bodies that stretched endlessly. Tattered and sullen standards were raised in the monsters' midst. Baleful notes echoed throughout Farthen Dûr as war horns sounded. The entire group of Urgals charged with savage cries.

They dashed against the rows of stakes, covering them with slick blood and limp corpses, as the ranks of the vanguard were crushed against the sharpened spikes. _Imbeciles_,Eragon thought as he watched them charge. A cloud of black arrows flew over the barrier at the crouched defenders. Bard raised his hand and a glow of yellow energy erupted from his palm as he spoke in the ancient language, "Letta orya thorna." The barrage immediately halted in the air. With another word, "Gánga," they turned before heading straight back to the Urgal archers. He felt himself smirk. Now it was time for his servants to show just how unique they were.

Momentarily foiled by the pickets, the Urgal horde milled about with confusion. After a pause, the war cries were raised again as the Urgals surged forward. When they were close enough, Eragon charged forward, sprinting towards their lines. Finny and Bard followed suit. Bard grinned in the anticipation of being on a battlefield again, while Finny's face bore an expression of pure concentration. Saphira took flight, flying high above the battle, breathing fire onto the Urgals.

Eragon was at ease as he cut through the Urgal's line, using every method he could to kill every enemy in his way. He took care to spread tendrils of thought throughout the Urgals ranks, determining which were protected by wards and using varying forms of magic to slaughter groups of Urgals at a time. Finny, with his unnatural strength, gave the Urgals pause. He easily rammed through their numbers, killing every foe in his way. Bard with his magic and swordsmanship was a force of his own. He danced through their ranks, with an ease that bespoke his true skill. Kneeing an Urgal in the stomach, Eragon watched as the large monster fell to the ground. With ease, he crushed his skull beneath his boot. Eragon then turned back to the battalion still over ten yards behind them.

"What are you waiting for?" he challenged. "An invitation?"

Easily side stepping away from a mace swung at his head, with his elbow; he snapped the Urgal's neck in half. The battalion responded in kind, rushing forward. As the two forces collided, a deafening roar burst from the men and dwarves as they rushed into the conflict. Thorn bellowed and leapt toward the fight, diving into a whirlwind of noise and blurred action. With his jaws and talons, he tore through Urgal after Urgal. His teeth were as lethal as any sword, his tail a giant mace. Upon his back, Eragon could see Murtagh smiting any Urgal who came too close. They were as dangerous as Saphira, who flew above the raging battle, breathing fire upon nearly every Urgal who left the tunnel. Many were protected by wards, but those who were not were instantly burned alive.

From the corner of his eye, Eragon saw Orik hewing Urgal heads from their necks with mighty blows of his axe. As Thorn spun, he saw Arya leap past the lifeless body of an opponent. All around, he could see the Varden in high morale, fighting strongly against the Urgals. He even glimpsed the witch Angela, wearing a red cape over outlandish armor enameled black and green. She bore a strange two handed weapon — a long wooden shaft with a blade attached to each end. Close behind her was Solembum in the form of a shaggy-haired boy. He held a small black dagger, sharp teeth bared in a feral snarl. When Eragon saw that they were being pushed back toward Tronjheim, he gritted his teeth. The Urgals army was still large enough to overwhelm the Varden. Durza, where was Durza? He needed to find the shade and dispose of him quickly or Tronjheim would soon be seized by the Urgals. Without his magic controlling the Urgals, they would be no force driving them to attack.

It was then he noticed Murtagh and Thorn were gone. He glanced about the battlefield to find that Arya was also missing, as well as Saphira. Where could the four have gone? The last he had seen of his half-brother, he had been fighting side by side with King Hrothgar. Felling a group of Urgals that surrounded him, he reached out for Saphira. She responded with a tinge of urgency in her voice. _Eragon! Durza has Murtagh under the star sapphire! You need to get there before he is killed._

Anger soon flushed him. _The idiot! What made him believe he could challenge the Shade?_ Easily killing an Urgal in his way, he turned, contacting Finny and Bard as he did so.

_My lord,_ Bard replied.

_I need you and Finny to kill as many Urgals as you can without exhausting yourselves. It will encourage the Varden to see such strength. I must go, to save my idiotic half-brother._

_Yes, my lord. _Running as fast as he could to the great central chamber of Tronjheim, he felt himself grin when he heard howls of agony from behind him, followed by cheers from the Varden. As he emerged into the chamber, he was met with the sight of Murtagh on the floor, unconscious, as Thorn was being roughly held down by a horde of Urgals. But something was wrong. As he glanced up he saw Saphira flying down from the dragon hold, Arya on her back, her hand outstretched with a green nimbus of magic shining from her palm, and shards of ruby crystal falling all around her. She had destroyed the star sapphire!

Muttering a quick spell to ward him from the sharp shards that were falling to the floor, he ran straight for Durza, tossing his swords to the side. When he reached Murtagh he picked up Zar'roc from the ground next to his half-brother, pointing it at Durza. The shade removed his eyes from Saphira and smiled coldly at him. "I knew this day would come. It seems that you've thrown your fate with the wrong lot, Gabranth," he proclaimed, eyes gleaming mockingly. "Or should I say, Eragon?"

With a swift motion of his hand, he pulled his helm off, staring at the shade with cold hatred. "I am overjoyed that I have an excuse to kill a shade such as you, Durza." They circled each other, ignoring the shards of the Isidar Mithrim that seemed to have stopped in their fall.

"The king will be rather displeased that I've killed you, but think of how he'll reward me when I bring back your _brother_." Irritation swelled up inside Eragon as he stared at Durza's smirk. Eragon bent his wrist, aiming Zar'roc at Durza's heart.

"Before I kill you, Durza, there is something that I would like to tell you." He bent his knees. "All those years that you complained I held a higher station than you simply because I am a Dragon Rider, it was not so. Let me put it simply: I'm more valuable than you, at least to Galbatorix."

He watched as maroon eyes narrowed in anger, and without a moment's hesitation, he charged, Zar'roc flashing in his hand. When they were a yard apart, he felt his rage for the shade come to life as the sneering face came closer. He focused all of his pain and anger that Durza had made him feel as a child, into one word:

"_Brisingr!"_

Zar'roc blazed with bloody light, heatless blue flames running along it.

He lunged forward, ignoring Durza's blade as it ran a smooth line across his cheek drawing blood and stabbed the shade straight in the heart.

Durza looked down with shock at the blade protruding from his breast. His mouth was open, but instead of words, and unearthly howl burst from him. His sword toppled from nerveless fingers. He grasped Zar'roc as if to pull it out, but it was lodged firmly within him. Then Durza's skin turned transparent. Under it was neither flesh nor bone, but swirling patterns of darkness. He shrieked even louder as the darkness pulsated, splitting his skin. With one last cry, Durza was rent from head to toe, releasing a darkness which separated into three entities, each proceeding to fly through Tronjheim's walls and out of Farthen Dûr. The shade was dead.

Hearing a thud behind him, he turned to find that Saphira had landed beside Thorn, who was rising from the ground. The Urgals that had restrained him were nowhere to be seen. The shards of the Isidar Mithrim slowly came to a rest on the ground. Arya, who sat atop Saphira's back, seemed to sway dangerously as her feet hit the ground. Eragon caught her before she fell. "A reckless strategy." Eragon admonished, cradling her as he did when he had first met her. "Not only did you destroy the dwarves' precious star, you could have killed yourself."

_Oh, stop scolding her. _Saphira rebuked, turning from her inspection of Thorn. _I am the one who carried her down. Are you going to criticize me as well?_

He sighed, _No. It is just that I am worried for her, as well as for you_, he replied kindly. He placed Arya against the front of Saphira's foreleg. "Rest, it appears that the battle is over." He instructed and to his mild surprise, she assented, her eyes closing. He moved over to where Murtagh lay on the ground, lying on his back. Flipping Murtagh over gently, he studied him for any serious wounds. His back… Blood was pouring from a wound in large amounts, staining the floor.

"Eragon!" He glanced up and to his immense relief, saw Angela running over to him, her face bearing an expression of worry. "What's happened here? Saphira called for me." He gestured to both Murtagh and Arya. He did not feel the least bit offended as Angela roughly pushed him to the side to examine Murtagh.

"You tend to these two, I'll return to the battle." To his bemusement, Angela let out a laugh. "What is it that you laugh at?"

"Battle?" she repeated. "If it pleases you, do offer your strength, but I assure you that there is no more battle. It seems," her gaze flickered up to him before returning to Murtagh, "that when you killed Durza, his magic binding the Urgals were gone and the clans turned on each other. They're escaping through the tunnels, I think."

"I expected as much."

She stood, shaking her head, her thick curls bouncing side to side. "I cannot heal him here; I need him to be brought to a room where I can make my tonics." She turned to leave. "Call Rosalie for me, I shall need her assistance."

He did as she had asked and Murtagh was soon moved into an empty room, with the assistance of Thorn. Arya was placed in an adjacent room. He had never seen the witch so busy, moving from room to room, making haste in order to save the two Riders. Solembum, who had returned to his cat form, was sitting to the side, his tail twitching. _You fought well, Shadeslayer. The Varden is abuzz with your accomplishments. It appears you have won a place in the people's heart._

_Is that so?_

_It is. _He turned his head to stare at Eragon with a piercing gaze. _Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the vault of souls._

He felt himself frown. Rarely would a werecat ever offer help and when they did, it was always wise to heed it. Before he could give it more thought, however, Rosalie came bustling down the hallway towards them, Arya's infant dragon close behind her. Eragon pointed to Murtagh's room. "Angela needs you in there. It is taking all her skill to save him, not to mention Arya."

"Yes, my lord." With that, she hurried into the room. The green dragon settled besides Eragon, curling in on himself as he waited. When he felt a mental tendril touch his mind, he was about to throw up barriers when he realized that it was Thorn. _Yes?_

_I want to thank you for saving Murtagh, despite you hating him so._

He bristled at that statement. _I do not hate him._

_Even so, thank you, Eragon. _He turned to stare at the ruby eyes of the red dragon before nodding. They waited for another hour or so and when Angela came bustling out of Arya's room and turned to Eragon.

"She's awake if you'll like to visit her." He nodded and stood from where he sat leaning against the wall of the hallway. With his helm tucked safely underneath his arm, he entered her room, Arya's dragon following closely at his heels. She was sitting up in her bed, rubbing her face tiredly as he entered.

"I'm relieved to find that you aren't dead," said Eragon, taking a seat in the empty wooden chair next to her bed, as her dragon bounded up to the bed, nuzzling her with its snout. He watched as she softly returned the gesture, stroking the green dragon's head, turning to stare at him with bright eyes.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"A few hours," he said. His face suddenly turned grave. "If you remember me saying before; that was reckless. If you had expended any more energy, you could have died."

"Yet I did not," Arya replied, her emerald eyes deep. Eragon grunted in reply. "How fares Murtagh?"

He shrugged. "Angela is still healing him. With her, I'm sure he'll be fine." He reached out and handed her a cup of water from the table beside her bed. She took it after a moment's glance. "You should focus on resting, the Urgals are retreating and the Varden has won."

Her eyes became curious. He explained, "When I killed Durza, the magic that bound the clans together broke and they all turned against each other. In the end, most of them escaped. The rest of the Varden are trying to root them out." He snorted. "Though I don't understand why they would waste time with such efforts. The Urgals aren't likely to attack Farthen Dûr again."

"I see." He felt a faint smile upon his lips. Arya often gave him short replies, but he perceived much from them. The door opened and they both turned to find an anxious soldier in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Ajihad requested that you lend your assistance healing the injured, Shadeslayer," the soldier said, his eyes firmly kept on the floor. Eragon nodded and dismissed him. When the door closed he turned back to Arya.

"You should rest." He stood, his eyes never leaving hers. "Your dragon seems intent on you staying in bed."

He made to leave. "Eragon..."

He turned his head to stare at Arya; she was still sitting up in bed, her piercing gaze focused on him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For killing Durza." He nodded to her before leaving. He understood. Her revenge had been carried out. He had killed the shade who had murdered her companions. The blood that had been owed was repaid.

The encampment of injured soldiers came into his line of sight. From his position, he could faintly make out the figures of Bard, Finny and Desdemona, bustling about to help where they could. Eragon raised his eyes to the heavens. _What would tomorrow bring?_

**So, tell me what you all think. Oh, and I wanted to put it straight out there that ExA will get to happen in this story, but not for the next twenty or so chapters. And about the time travel story, I've decided that after or near the end of this story, I'll write that one. The concept just really intrigues me. See you again at the next chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**Hello again everyone! Chapter ten is up! I'm going to keep this note short so you can all get onto reading! I do not own Eragon. Happy reading and reviewing everyone! R&R!**

The healing chambers within Farthen Dûr were bustling with activity. Eragon was pushed from side to side as he assisted his servants in healing the injured soldiers. He had slept only a few hours since the battle of Farthen Dûr. His body ached with the overuse of magic and the lack of rest and food. Desdemona had nearly gone mad when she saw his state, offering to give him her portion of food. He had adamantly refused.

It was during one of his breaks to eat a meager loaf of bread that a messenger ran up to him. Eragon turned to glance at the man, to see him freeze in fear. _I must look frightening_, Eragon thought. The purple bags under his eyes could not be doing him good, as he had not slept properly for two days. Desdemona turned to the man with a haughty gaze. "What is it?"

"Angela requests the presence of Eragon Shadeslayer," he stammered, "as the dragon Rider Murtagh has awakened."

He nodded with a sigh, finishing the bread. He stood, to his servants' dismay. "But my lord, you need to rest!" exclaimed Finny. Bard fervently nodded in agreement.

"I'll be fine." He handed his helm to Desdemona. "Hold onto it for me, Desdemona. I don't feel like carrying it around." She nodded with worried eyes. He hoped that this would be a simple event. With his lack of sleep, his temperament was dangerously higher than usual.

As he walked down the hallways and tunnels, he tried to stifle a yawn. Eragon did not even realize when he had arrived at Murtagh's room until he had stared for a great deal of time at the wooden maple door. With a tired sigh, he pushed it open. Stepping into the room, he blinked to adjust his eyes to the bright candlelight.

Five people were arranged around Murtagh; three were sitting on the bed, Arya and Rosalie were standing. Angela was knitting comfortably, with what seemed like dried bones, while his mother and Brom spoke to Murtagh, who was propped up on his pillow in bed. They all turned to stare at him once he entered the small room. A look of horror immediately formed on Rosalie's face as she took in the sight of him. "My lord!" she exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth. "Have you gotten any rest of late?"

"I will be fine." He answered. It did not go unnoticed by him that Arya had a bandage wrapped around her arm. She must have been cut while helping the Varden find the Urgals in the tunnels. He turned his gaze to Angela. "You called for me?"

"I just thought you might like to hear that your brother lives," the witch said, flashing him a smile. "I've heard you've been quite busy, saving lives and healing wounds."

He sighed, feeling his temper flare._ If she called him here just for that_ . . . "Eragon, dear, why don't you go and lie down for a few hours, I'm sure Desdemona and the others can handle the rest from now on," his mother said, rising to her feet to come over and study his tired features. He could see Brom right over her head, staring at him in concern, and it made his gut twist. He did not want to be here, taking part in a tender family meeting.

"Then I'll go now." He turned to leave, but another voice called for him. He felt his body tense and become as rigid as a brick, as he slowly rotated to stare at the young man on the bed, their eyes meeting. "Yes?"

"I wanted to thank you," Murtagh said, sitting straighter on his bed, "for saving me from Durza."

There was a moments silence as everyone glanced at the pair, as if waiting for something tragic to happen. He did not relax, but did not feel the need to ignore such a statement. Finally, he said, "Another debt you owe me."

His mother seemed to burst with happiness as she embraced him, murmuring about how sweet he was. _Was that even sweet?_ He thought as she pulled away after affectionately kissing his cheek. Brom looked as relieved as his half-brother. His family was beyond the need of help. A mother who loved a man who had killed the father of her eldest son, her youngest son who hated her lover, his father, for abandoning him and resented his older brother just for living a simple yet happy life, and the half-brother and lover who had but recently learned of the youngest son's existence. How complicated could a family become?

"If that's all, I will take my leave." He left the room, knowing his mother was right. He needed to rest. He would accomplish nothing if he went around half-dead. There was only one place that he knew no one would be at the moment.

Taking a step through the quiet library, Eragon searched for a dark corner in case someone might walk in on his slumber. When he found a spot hidden behind a rather large bookshelf, he settled against the wall. His eyelids closed of their own accord. His sleep was peaceful, a blank void in time in which no dreams came to him.

At some point after that, Eragon was rudely awakened by someone. Tiredly opening his eyes, he found himself staring up at Arya's petite figure as she flipped through a large volume. He sighed, not moving from where he sat. _Why is it that we always seem to bump into one another? _Not that he minded. "Sleeping in such a position looks uncomfortable," she said, without glancing up from her book.

"Unfortunately, this is the only place that I had thought would be empty, due to the fact that there was a recent battle." Moving to his feet, he tiredly rolled his shoulders, twisting his back from side to side, satisfied when he heard a crack from his bones. "I see now that I was wrong. How is Murtagh?"

"Durza opened an old wound on his back; given to him by his father when he was a child. He has a disability to contend with now," Arya explained, her fingers deftly flipping the pages. He frowned. Arya turned her large green eyes towards him. "Your servants have been looking for you."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Since I last saw you; which was two days ago." She said. He inwardly groaned, he had been tired enough to sleep two entire days. "Ajihad is returning from searching for Urgals. He wishes for you to be there when he returns."

"Where shall he be arriving?" asked Eragon, watching as she closed the book shut, placing it back on the shelf.

"Tronjheim's west gate." With that, she slid between the shadows of the bookshelves like darkness itself. Eragon followed. Eragon had seen Ajihad before he left to hunt the Urgals. At the time he had raged at his daughter, Nasuada, for disobeying him. He had to admit, she was fearless. Refusing to obey her father's wishes to leave with the other women and children, she had instead fought among the Varden's archers.

As Eragon and Arya rounded Tronjheim, a small group became visible in the pool of lantern light before the timber gate. Among them were the three dragons, Orik — the dwarf shifting impatiently on his stout legs — and Murtagh. Even from far away, his half-brother appeared far more tired than before.

Arya had destroyed the Star Sapphire, allowing Eragon to save Murtagh's life and kill the Shade. Even with such an accomplishment, the dwarves were furious with her for destroying their most prized treasure. They refused to move the great gem's fragments; leaving them in a huge circle inside Tronjheim's central chamber. Pedestrians had to carefully traverse the splintered wreckage.

He and Arya came to a stop by their dragons. Saphira immediately went to nudge Eragon with her snout. _You seem in a better state after resting, little one, _said Saphira tenderly.

_Wouldn't anyone? _He replied as he looked out into the empty land that surrounded Tronjheim, extending to Farthen Dûr's base, five miles in each direction. "Where will Ajihad come from?"

Arya pointed at a cluster of lantern stakes around a large tunnel opening a couple of miles away. "He should be here soon."

Eragon waited patiently with the others. Though he answered comments directed at him, he preferred to speak with Saphira in the peace of his mind. Half an hour passed before motion flickered in the distant tunnel. A group of ten men climbed out the ground, then turned and helped up as many dwarves. Ajihad, Eragon saw, raised a hand, and the warriors assembled behind him in two straight lines. At a signal, the formation marched proudly toward Tronjheim.

His eyes focused on the tunnel as they marched. Something did not seem right. Saphira seemed to sense it as well, for as he climbed onto her, she instantly took flight, flying for the tunnel. The assembly had only marched more than five yards, before the opening swarmed with life, and more figures jumped out.

_Those are Urgals! _Exclaimed Saphira.

"Behind you!" Eragon shouted, reaching for his magic as Saphira opened her jaws to let out a jet of crackling fire. He watched as the Urgals began to cut down the warriors with ease; surprise working to their advantage. The moment Saphira touched the ground, Eragon vaulted off, withdrawing his sword to cut down a group of Urgals. Arya and Murtagh — who arrived later — went to tend to Ajihad, where he lay on the ground.

When only one Urgal remained, Eragon grabbed him by the horns and threw him to the ground, his right foot coming to rest on the Urgal's head. Before he could crush it out of anger, the Urgal spoke in its thick, guttural accent. "A message from Galbatorix: this is what happens when you ally yourself with the wrong side, Gabranth."

A flash of surprise surged through him before he pushed his foot down, the sound of bones cracking reaching his ears. He would have to polish his metal boots clean later. In the center of the massacre laid Ajihad, with Arya and Murtagh by his side. When he approached, he felt his lips twitch downwards as he saw that the leader of the Varden was dead. The price for victory was high. Arya, Eragon, Murtagh and their dragons, accompanied Jörmundur and the warriors, bearing Ajihad's body on their shields. The procession back to Tronjheim was a solemn affair, with not a word spoken as each person came to terms with the consequences of Ajihad's death. Afterwards, Orik left to give King Hrothgar the sad tidings.

By the next day, it was apparent the news of Ajihad's death had spread far and wide. As Eragon and Saphira made their way to the nearest kitchen, people stopped and bowed, murmuring "Argetlam" or "Shadeslayer", but they seemed hallowed and saddened. Some dwarves made the motions, though not as often. They, on the whole, did not seem as affected by Ajihad's death. The haunted and somber expressions on the humans' faces did little to unnerve him, but he could share some of their sorrow. In the little time he had been with the Varden, he had come to respect Ajihad for the strong leader that he was.

As he was eating a warm bowl of vegetable stew, a pale-looking youth came to a stop by the side of the table. The boy eyed Saphira like he was afraid she would try to eat him. "What is it?" asked Eragon, not unkindly.

The boy started, flustered, then bowed. "You have been summoned, Argetlam, to speak before the Council of Elders."

_Council of Elders? _Eragon thought. There were such councils within the Varden? "Are you to lead me to them?"

"Yes, I am."

He stood, motioning for the boy to lead the way. As they walked, the boy admired his swords with bright eyes. He looked down shyly when Eragon caught his gaze.

"What are you called?" asked Eragon.

"Jarsha, sir."

"You have performed your duties well, Jarsha, you should be proud." Jarsha beamed and bounced forward. Eragon may rarely give praise, but he never declined the chance to see a child happy.

They reached a convex stone door, which Jarsha pushed open. The room inside was circular, with a sky-blue dome decorated with constellations. A round marble table, inlaid with the crest of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum—an upright hammer ringed by twelve stars—stood in the center of the chamber. Seated there were Jörmundur and two other men, one tall and one broad; a woman with pinched lips, close-set eyes, and elaborately painted cheeks; and a second woman with an immense pile of gray hair above a matronly face, and a dagger hilt peeking out of the vast hills of her bodice.

"You may go," Jörmundur said to Jarsha, who quickly bowed and left.

Ignoring their stares, Eragon seated himself in the middle of the swath of empty chairs, so that the council had to turn in their seats in order to look at him. Saphira hunkered directly behind him; he could feel her hot breath on the top of his head.

Jörmundur got halfway up and made a slight bow, then reseated himself. "Thank you for coming, Eragon. This is Umérth," he indicated the tall man; "Falberd," the broad one, "and Sabrae and Elessari."

"And what is it that you need of me? With Ajihad's funeral, I would've thought you would be too busy to call for me," Eragon said, his face impassive. When dealing with politics and power, it was always best for the other party to be unsure of what you were thinking.

Jörmundur nodded, "We face a crisis that must be dealt with swiftly and effectively. If we don't choose Ajihad's successor, someone else will. Hrothgar has already contacted us to convey his condolences. While he was more than courteous, he is sure to be forming his own plans even as we speak. We must also consider Du Vrangr Gata, the magic users. Most of them are loyal to the Varden, but it is difficult to predict their actions at best of times. They might decide to oppose our authority for their own advantages. That is why we need your assistance, Eragon, to provide the legitimacy required by whoever is to take Ajihad's place."

Falberd heaved himself up, planting his meaty hands on the table. "The five of us have already decided who to support. There is no doubt among us that it is the right person. But," he raised a thick finer, "before we reveal who it is, you must give us your word of honor that whether you agree or disagree with us, nothing of our discussion will leave this room."

He inwardly grinned. They had forgotten about Saphira, she could tell anyone she wished even if he did give them his word. Many overlooked the intelligence of the dragons. "You have my word. Now, who do you want to lead the Varden?"

"Nasuada."

Instantly, he had understood why. She was young and most likely inexperienced, he assumed. A puppet for the council to control. He did not show his distaste. A grab for power. He had seen it happen many times in the Empire, nobles plotting and scheming to bring their titles above others'.

_Even so, Nasuada has steel in her. She proved that when she fought amongst the Varden's numbers, _observed Saphira. _She would be like her father._

_One can only hope that Ajihad was prepared for this to happen._

"I will not question why you have chosen Nasuada, but why must I be told beforehand?" asked Eragon, willing for them to state their true intentions.

"Ajihad's funeral will be held in two days," broke in Umérth. "Directly afterward, we plan to appoint Nasuada as our new leader. We have yet to ask her, but she will surely agree. We want you to be present at the appointing — so no one, not even Hrothgar, will complain about it. We also need you to swear fealty to the Varden during the event. That will give back the confidence Ajihad's death has stolen from the people, and prevent anyone from trying to splinter this organization."

_Fealty._

Saphira quickly spoke to him. _Notice, they do not want you to swear fealty to Nasuada—just the Varden._

_They must think we are fools, _Eragon thought somewhat amused at their situation._ Their grab for power is so obvious; they should just say it outright. But. . . ._

"And why should I?" Eragon asked, watching in satisfaction as the council began to move uneasily in their seats. "There are but two other Riders who can give you their fealty. Arya and Murtagh. Perhaps not Arya, but Murtagh can offer you his services, and yet you choose me. Is there any particular reason for your doing so?"

"Because you've brought the Varden victory, the people will be overjoyed to see their hero devote himself to their cause," Falberd said. _Lies. _It was only because he had slain Durza, if he had not they would have surely chosen Murtagh. And Arya was out of the question, for the only loyalty she truly had lay with her queen.

After a long moment, Eragon nodded. "Very well, I shall attend Nasuada's appointment."

To their amusement, the council seemed to ripple with relief. _They are afraid of us,_ Saphira said. He nodded. _As they should be._ Jörmundur immediately called Jarsha to bring Arya, Murtagh, and Nasuada to the chamber. As they waited, no one spoke, seeming uncomfortable in Eragon's presence. When Jarsha returned, the three entered, Murtagh and Nasuada taking a seat by the table while she stood a distance away. He could understand why, he disliked being close to such people as well.

Falberd immediately explained to them the reason for calling the three of them and Eragon watched as Nasuada and in turn Arya had agreed to Nasuada's appointment. Then condolences were spoken — Something he did not take part in, which earned an angry look from Sabrae, though she quickly turned away when his eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. When they were done, he was glad to leave, only to be stopped as Nasuada called out to him as he rose from his chair.

Eragon reseated himself and waited for the door to close. He turned to the young woman with a raised eyebrow. She wore a gown of the deepest shade of black, deeper even than her skin, broken by the royal purple sash that stretched from her shoulder to her hip. "This is the first we've met, Rider. You haven't greeted me before, have I offended you?"

"No, Nasuada. Circumstances has forced me to keep quiet in the presence of others. You should understand this, since we are both players in this particular game of politics." Knowing that someone could be listening in on them, he delved into his magic and warded the room off from listeners. "Atra nosu waíse vardo fra eld hórnya. There, now we can speak freely without being overheard."

Nasuada's posture softened. "Thank you, Eragon. You don't know what a gift that is." Her words were stronger and more self-assured than before.

He stared at her, curious. "You are well aware of what the council plans, are you not?"

"I am," she said, black eyes gleaming. "But I will not make the task easy for them."

He smirked. She was made of steel, no doubt. _Give her your fealty, Eragon. I trust her more than those wretched fools, _Saphira said. He nodded and stood, drawing his blade as he did so. For a leader to rule over their subjects, they needed a position of power. Offering his fealty to Nasuada would ensure her authority could not be challenged. He saw fear flash in her eyes as he approached; her gaze darting toward the door. She slipped her hand into the folds of her dress and grasped something that he assumed was a dagger. Eragon stopped before her and knelt, his blade flat in his hand.

"Nasuada, Saphira and I have been here but a few days, but in that short amount of time, I came to respect Ajihad — and in turn, you. You fought in Farthen Dûr when others fled, including the two women of the council. I trust you to rule the Varden like your father has done before you and therefore offer you my blade . . . and my fealty as a Rider."

Surprise flitted across Nasuada's face. She gripped his blade—staring at the clear silver metal that held a deadly air about it—than placed the tip on Eragon's head. "I do accept your fealty with honor, Rider, as you accept all responsibilities accompanying the station. Rise as my vassal and take your sword."

He did, letting a smirk travel his lips as he sheathed his sword. "As my liege lord, I can tell you openly that the council had intended for me to swear fealty to the Varden."

Nasuada laughed with genuine delight. "It seems that you are a formidable person, Eragon. It is a pleasant idea to have someone as intellectual and powerful as you as my vassal." She smiled, her teeth flashing. "I may not know you well, but I can see that this game shall turn out very interesting with you as a player."

"I shall serve you honorably," Eragon said, as he bowed to her slightly. He had not intended to swear fealty to anyone, but he trusted Nasuada more than he trusted the Council. And as he stared at the new leader-to-be, he had to agree with her, this would be a most interesting game indeed.

**Opinions everyone? I know the last part seemed rushed but it was too tedious to type out. This chapter doesn't have anything real good but the next one will be where Arya gets mad. Hehe...I have that scene planned out to perfection (hopefully). But please review; I'll like to hear what you all think of the story so far.**


	11. Finny

Finny

**This isn't a chapter. I've decided that for every 100 reviews, I'm going to post some bonus stories of Eragon's servants. This one is about Finny and how he came to meet Eragon. They aren't going to be as long as regular chapters, just some insight of their lives. But I'm halfway done with the next regular chapter and it should be posted tomorrow or the day after. The next 100 reviews I do Bard's story and then Desdemona and Rosalie. :) Have fun reading this short chapter of Finny.**

_Just a little further . . ._ running up the spiraling stone steps, his mixture of orange and blonde hair stood out against the gray walls. When he reached the door, Finny threw it open, bathing himself in the sun's warm rays. The sky was cloudless and the sun high in the sky. Below in the garden, he could see Lady Selena tending to her roses. Desdemona was probably off cleaning somewhere in the castle and the last time he saw Rosalie that morning was in the banquet hall, filling out paperwork. Bard was in the kitchen cooking, Lord Gabranth was in his study, and Saphira was out hunting. He smiled at the thought of his young lord. It had been almost four years ago when they had first met.

_The dungeons of Dras-Leona were damp and dark, with the sounds of mice scratching against the walls. He sat in the corner of a cell that was dimly lit by a candle high on the wall. The small window just barely allowed the sun's rays to reach through to his cell. Finny began to wish, as he stared at the small opening. _Freedom. . .

_He had been orphaned as a child. He never knew where his parents went when they had left him. Finny had lived on the streets and the dark alleys for most of his life, before he was made captive to a group of spellcasters. At the time, he had no idea what wanted from him. After some time, he heard from their conversations that they intended to build the ultimate weapon and that he was being used as a guinea pig to be experimented on. That was how he came to live in the dungeons. He did not know for how long he had been there, surviving on bread and cold stew, perhaps a year, maybe two? It was too long to keep track. The door opened, and he turned in his dirty clothes that could be mistaken for rags. Two people clothed in white robes stood in the doorway. He did not resist as they grabbed him by the wrists, dragging him to the room where they would experiment on him._

_But today was different, he thought, as he lay on the table. Strapped with leather bonds, the familiar sense of fear overwhelmed him as he saw them reach for a vial of dark purple liquid. They were murmuring under their breath, with triumphant smiles stretched on their faces. With a knife, they carved a thin cut into his arm. He watched, his body trembling in fear, as the purple liquid fell onto the cut and was absorbed into his bloodstream. Finny felt a scream tear itself from his throat, as his arms began to burn with a pain that he had never known._

_They repeated the same procedure with his legs and other arm, and the pain increased tenfold. Body writhing in agony, he thrashed his arms and legs about in their straps, surprised when the binding broke free. As he got up from the table, the hands that grappled for him were instantly tossed away. Finny watched as his captors were flung against the wall, their necks snapping._

_Fear. It gripped him like ice. Not able to stand staring at the lifeless bodies, Finny turned and ran for the door, not bothering to open it as his body crashed through the wood. They had changed him, had made him into a monster. As he ran, he ignored the shouts of guards and maids through the keep. Outside, he wanted to be outside again!_

_Turning a corner, he let out a yell as he hit something. Losing his balance, Finny fell to the floor. Regaining his bearings, he glanced up to stare at whatever he had hit. It was a tall man, wrapped in black armor, a black cape tied around the base of his throat and a helm resting on his head, intricate horns curved outwards from each side. Surprise took control of Finny. _I hit him, but he didn't fall. _"Who are you? Why didn't you fall when I bumped into you?" asked Finny._

"_I've heard of you." The tall man ignored his question as he started at Finny. "The boy those spellcasters wanted to turn into a weapon. It seems they have indeed given you the strength for it."_

"_Are you going to take me back?" he asked, feeling small. The armored man shook his head._

"_If you are willing to work for me, I will hire you. You would be paid well."_

_Finny shook his head as he stood. He did not want money. "I don't care about gold. I just want to be outside. I don't want to be locked up forever."_

_The tall man was quiet for a moment, before nodding. "If it's freedom that you wish, then I shall grant it to you if you work for me, -?"_

"_Finny. My name's Finny."_

"_Do you agree then, Finny?"_

"_I do. Please, take me outside."_

Finny sighed contentedly. And ever since, Lord Gabranth had kept to his word. He had granted Finny his freedom; in return Finny protected his mother. And while he stayed at the castle in Urû'baen, Finny had taken up the role as Lord Gabranth's gardener. He was quite awful at it, though his lordship never complained about his gardening skills. Nor did he complain much when, with Finny's strength, sections of the castle were destroyed with regularity. He was a kind lord . . . a lord that he would always serve faithfully.

Suddenly Saphira's large shape appeared in the sky and he grinned. He was free. Turning back towards the door, he ran back down the stairs, laughing and shouting at the top of his lungs. "Saphira's back, everyone!"


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Leaving the room, Eragon sighed. Events were developing not as he had hoped they would. _Fealty. _The word was like a heavy burden to him. Nearly his entire life had been spent living in the Empire. He had desired freedom, but now he was swearing his loyalty to the next leader of the Varden. Even Galbatorix could not make him swear his fealty and yet to give in to these weak council members . . . it made him want to lash out. _It was different with Galbatorix._

Eragon stared at Saphira, not knowing where they were going but letting her lead him. _How so?_

_We respect Nasuada and believe she will make a strong leader, and trust her to make the right decisions. If we did not swear our fealty, this organization would be demoralized knowing that a Rider and dragon will not devote themselves to their cause, _Saphira explained. _And if the Varden should fall or refuse to house us, where would we turn? Galbatorix? No, not after we killed Durza and set the Urgals free from his control. And if he were to find out that you purposely let Arya and Murtagh go free with the last egg . . ._

_Still . . . _Fealty.

_You will grow accustomed to it I think. It was a necessary agreement for survival. Even Murtagh will likely be claimed by another power. Hrothgar will not let this pass and with Murtagh left as an independent Rider, he will seek to gain control of him. We are not alone in this. _She stopped in front of a large door. _Besides, just because you swore fealty does not mean that it binds me as well. If Nasuada's orders place you in danger or I disapprove of them, I will force you from following her orders. Ah, to be forgotten._

He snorted and glanced at the door he had arrived at, realizing that it was the entrance to the library. _What are we doing here? Do not tell me you want to read a book._

_Arya wishes to speak with us. _He frowned, pushing the doors open. The vast room was silent and empty. Allowing Saphira to lead him through the vast bookshelves, he found Arya sitting in an alcove of the room, with her dragon lying on the ground beside her chair. As he took a seat opposite her, Eragon studied the elf. She seemed beyond agitated. Saphira positioned herself between them.

"What have you done?" her hostility was expected, Eragon thought, as he stared at her. His temper was not in the best of states either, after being forced into such a position.

"I did what I had to, is that wrong of me?"

Arya's eyes slanted dangerously, her green eyes flashing. "Wrong? Seven decades I have spent as an ambassador for my people, fifteen of those years I carried Thorn's egg between the Varden and Du Weldenvarden. And throughout that time, I have ensured that the Varden had wise, strong leaders. Your father helped me by forging the agreement of the new Rider—your brother. And Ajihad had wished for you both to remain independent of any group or king. And now I see you siding with the council, willingly or not, to control Nasuada. _What have you done?"_

His temper flared when she mentioned his father, the way she spoke insulted him to the core. "Do not belittle me! You may have seven decades of experience with politics, but I know how to manage, without you berating me like a child."

He covered his shock as she stood, slamming her hands on the table, her eyes a burning emerald inferno. "You fool! You are in many ways but a child!" His eyes flashed and he too, stood, hands slamming down on the table.

"By your standards only! How can we remain independent? It was clear when the last egg hatched for you, an elf! You are already tied down with your loyalties to your Queen! Everyone could see that. Eventually, Hrothgar will claim Murtagh and Thorn. To establish a position of leadership, Nasuada needed power and with a Rider bound to each race, they can acknowledge each other as equals," he retorted, his temper continuing to flare. "And do you think it pleases me to swear fealty? To give into that accursed council's intent? It is a good thing that Nasuada is an honest person, or I would have refused from the very beginning!" By the end of his rant, he found himself shouting and his hands were gripping the edge of the table with such force it was beginning to crack under the strain.

They stood there, both glaring at each other. After a long moment's deliberation, Arya seated herself, running her fingers through her hair. "Your position is not what I would wish, but better than I had hoped." He sighed; suddenly feeling tired and too, seated himself. No one spoke for a while. Then Arya's quiet voice floated over to him, along with the scent of freshly crushed pine needles. "I apologize for my actions earlier . . ."

"I would like to apologize as well; my temper was not in check, for I would not otherwise have spoken so harshly, or outright." It seemed as if everyone was on edge. And they sat there in silence again, not knowing what else to say to one another. "So . . . seven decades . . . you must miss Ellesméra."

"I do."

"Your family must miss you. Elves may be immortal, but seven decades is no small span of time." Eragon said, watching as her face pinched into a frown, as if she had thought of something unpleasant.

"Even so, when I left Ellesméra… I left my family on ill terms." She spoke hesitantly. He frowned, suddenly curious.

"How so?"

"They did not approve of me becoming ambassador for my people." He nodded; it seemed he was not the only Rider with family problems. Arya turned to him, her eyes looking tired. "I shall see you at the funeral, Eragon. May the stars watch over you."

He nodded and watched as she slipped away between the darkness of the shelves, her dragon following silently behind her. _My, what a scene. _Saphira said dramatically as she watched them depart. _I thought the two of you were going to draw swords and destroy the library._

_Not quite. Though you would not stop us, would you?_

_Me? Not at all. It appears Arya has a talent for extracting such intense emotions from you. I like her. _At the last part, Saphira lazily winked at him, though he did not understand the meaning of it. _Women_, he replied, as they left the library together. It felt as if his entire life revolved around females. His mother, Saphira, and now Nasuada, his new liege lord. But where did Arya fit into the equation? His feelings for her were hard to understand. He sighed, feeling suddenly tired, and started towards his chambers.

The next morning as Eragon was polishing one of his two swords, he frowned when in the silver blade gleamed his brother.

He glanced up to see Murtagh, Orik and behind them, Thorn. "Good morning," Eragon greeted them, if rather stiffly. He remembered that Angela had spoken of Murtagh feeling rather ill, from the scar on his back. "Is there something the three of you needed?"

"King Hrothgar requests your presence." Orik replied. Saphira, who was curled up behind him, unfurled, snapping her jaws as she, from his understanding, yawned. Orik bowed to her. "Good morning to you, Saphira." She replied with a friendly growl.

Sheathing his sword, Eragon stood in a fluid motion, nodding for him to lead the way. As they walked, he glanced sideways at Murtagh. His pale face spoke for his condition. It would limit his abilities as a Dragon Rider, Eragon knew. They arrived at two granite doors inscribed with a seven-pointed crown. Seven armored dwarves on each side of the entrance pounded the floor simultaneously with the hafts of their mattocks. After the doors had turned inwards, Orik stepped back to wait for them.

Passing through the granite doors, the four of them entered the throne room. King Hrothgar waited on his black throne, his war-hammer Volund lying across his mail-sheathed legs. Eragon and Murtagh bowed while Saphira and Thorn remained standing behind them, watching the proceedings with their sapphire and ruby eyes.

Hrothgar spoke, "Welcome to my hall, Shadeslayer." He inclined his head towards Eragon, before turning to Murtagh. "And welcome back, Rider." His eyes came to rest on Zar'roc. "It seems that I was proven wrong about Zar'roc. The blade that saved Tronjheim from Durza's grip will always be welcomed here, as long as you bear it."

"Thank you," said Murtagh, rising. Eragon followed suit.

He waited as Hrothgar spoke with Murtagh about the armor that had been given to him for the battle. When the pleasantries had come and gone, the tension in the room seemed to grow as the King finally decided to bring forth the matter at hand. "It has been requested of me that I should support the Council's decision in choosing Nasuada as Ajihad's successor. It has created an uproar the likes of which I have never seen. Most have concluded that Nasuada is indeed fit to lead the Varden. The question I'm most worried about is where you stand on this, Eragon and Murtagh."

"I cannot say for Eragon and Saphira," Murtagh began, his eyes flickering back to Thorn, "but Thorn and I support her and do not oppose her succeeding Ajihad in the position to command the Varden. She is wise and canny beyond her years."

_Affection? _Eragon thought, surprised. Unless his ears deceived him, it seemed as if Murtagh had somewhat of a soft spot for Nasuada. Eragon nodded, pushing the thought out of his mind. "We also do not oppose her ascension. And I hope that you shall do the same, your majesty. What the people need now is unity."

The dwarf king nodded. "And unity they shall get, though the grab for individual power looms like a dagger above our heads." An uncomfortable silence drifted over them. Murtagh, who seemed uneasy, spoke.

"What will be done with the dragon hold? Will a new floor be laid down?" Grief and sorrow, as deep and as wide as the centuries in which the king had lived, emerged in the dwarf's eyes, deepening the lines of his face.

"When Isidar Mithrim was shattered, so was the heart of Tronjheim and in turn, our hearts." Hrothgar reached down to grasp Volund's handle. Saphira touched his mind, her remorse and guilt washing over him. It surprised him somewhat, for in her entire four years of life, she regretted little. _Little one, ask Hrothgar if the dwarves have the ability to reconstruct Isidar Mithrim out of the shards._

After conveying her words, Hrothgar frowned. "The skill we have, but to do so could take months or years, and the end result will only mock the beauty of the Star Rose, rather than restore it. I shall not be done."

Saphira continued, her gaze never wavering from the king. _Tell him if Isidar Mithrim were put together, with not one piece missing, I believe I could make it whole once more._

He did not blink at her request. Eragon knew that dragons' magic had possibilities beyond normal limitations. His transformation was proof of Saphira's power and so he did not question her statement. When Eragon conveyed Saphira's offer, Hrothgar seemed dazed with shock and even Murtagh stood ramrod straight with surprise. "Is it possible? Not even the elves might attempt such a feat!" he exclaimed.

"She is confident of her abilities," said Eragon, "and so am I. If you will have it recovered and repaired, Saphira shall restore the beauty of the Isidar Mithrim and the hearts of your people."

"Then we shall rebuild Isidar Mithrim, even if it takes a hundred years. Every piece shall be assembled and put in place, not a single chip forgotten. You will come then, when we are finished, and heal the Star Rose, and the hearts of mine kin."

"We will come," agreed Eragon, bowing.

Hrothgar smiled. "What joy you bring me, Saphira. I shall await the day that we might see Isidar Mithrim restored and when it comes, dwarves everywhere shall honor your name and sing ballads of you deed for generations. All of our halls shall echo with the jubilation of your race."

After a few more bows, the four departed, leaving the smiling king in their wake. When the doors shut behind them, Murtagh turned to them, his face full of curiosity. "That was a big promise."

"Not by Saphira's standards," Eragon said. He glanced at Murtagh one last time, before turning to leave. "I shall see you at Ajihad's funeral." With that, they took their leave from his presence.

Word of Saphira's promise had indeed traveled throughout Farthen Dûr. As they retired to their room to rest, dwarves in their way bowed and kissed the floor before Saphira. He tried to hide his smirk — even if it was out of the goodness of Saphira's heart; she was flattered by such actions.

When he opened his room, Rosalie was inside, placing a pair of clothes onto his table. "My lord!" she said in surprise as he entered.

"I don't see why you're surprised, seeing as I sleep here." He said, though not unkindly. He gestured to the clothes. "For the funeral?"

"Yes," she said, her familiar smile adorning her face. "I'm sure you will look most handsome in it."

Eragon raised an eyebrow at her compliment but let it pass. "Have you ever been to a funeral before?" he asked, removing his boots as he went to sit on the bed. Rosalie shook her head. He instantly felt like an idiot. How could he forget? She did not have anyone close to her, to attend a funeral for, when he had taken her under his wing. "I'm sure that this won't be the last funeral for the Varden."

"What do you mean?" asked Rosalie.

"Anyone could die." Eragon sighed. He glanced up to see tension and worry rolling off her in waves as she moved about the room. He frowned. "I'm sorry if it makes it harder to guard my mother, but I'm counting on you."

"I know you are, my lord, and I shall never fail you." Her green eyes turned to him. "Eventually, you will have to face Galbatorix, won't you?"

Eragon was a little surprised at the sudden change of topic, but said nothing of it. He nodded. "It cannot be avoided, seeing as I've betrayed him with such intensity. I can only hope that Saphira will escape with her life."

"I see." He frowned, noticing her movements became tenser, but not understanding the meaning of it. When she bid him goodnight, Eragon felt the one word roll around in his head, as if it were a taboo. _Women._

When he and Saphira arrived at the funeral procession the next day, he wore a white shirt with cuffs and above it, a red vest embroidered with gold lining, dark pants, polished black boots, and a black cape that was fastened under his throat with a studded brooch. Instead of carrying both blades, he had only decided to carry one, which was fastened to an ornate belt.

A column was arranged and Ajihad laid in the front on a white marble bier, held by six men in black armor. Close behind his body stood Nasuada, grave and strong in appearance, though tears adorned her face. To her side was Hrothgar in dark robes and beside him, Orik; then Arya and her dragon, his mother and father; to his shock, the Council of Elders, Murtagh and Thorn, and finally a stream of mourners. Whispers and sighs entered the air at Eragon's and Saphira's appearance. He caught sight of his servants within the line of mourners and despite their sorrow for Ajihad, approval seemed to line their faces at his clothing.

Ignoring Jörmundur, who waved to him, Eragon picked the empty space beside Murtagh who was dressed in a similar fashion. Saphira followed in tow, and impressively — with her bulk — slid into the line without disturbing the formation. Thorn turned his head to stare at her and Eragon assumed that they were talking.

The lanterns were shuttered halfway to a cool twilight. Then, deep in Tronjheim, a drum gonged.

Boom.

The precession stepped forward and with every note that struck the air, they brought their feet across the ground. The dwarves who had come to mourn for Ajihad grew even more solemn as they were forced to cross the open chamber where the shards of Isidar Mithrim lay, casting sparkles of golden light onto them. With a final note, they halted in a great catacomb lined with alcoves. The bearers strode to a small room annexed to the main chamber. On a raised platform was a great crypt. On the top was carved in runes;

_May all, Knurlan, Humans, and Elves,_

_Remember_

_This man._

_For he was Noble, Strong, and Wise_

_Gûntera Arûna_

When the mourners were gathered around, Ajihad was lowered into the crypt. Those who had known him personally were allowed to approach. Eragon would not say he knew the leader of the Varden personally, having spoken to him only on several short occasions and none more pleasant than the other. They were seventh in line after Murtagh and Thorn. As they ascended the steps to his body, he was gripped by a sense of sorrow. He had never felt much sorrow for other people in his life, for there was not anyone to feel sorrow for. As he stared at the peaceful and serene expression that shone on Ajihad's face, he came to understand the emotion that clutched him.

_This was how it was to die and be mourned for_, Eragon thought. Death was an eternal sleep and Ajihad was now resting without interruptions. Not able to think of anything to say at first, he eventually settled for something. He said, his voice quiet, "May you rest in peace, Ajihad. And rest well, knowing that Nasuada shall ascend to your command and that the Empire shall be overthrown." Turning, he stepped off the platform with Saphira, allowing Jörmundur to take his place.

Once they had all finished paying their respects, twelve dwarves came, carrying a great marble slab which they slid over the crypt, covering Ajihad. The procession then moved to the amphitheater. Eragon stood and waited, as the spacious arena was filled with voices discussing the funeral that had just concluded.

He sat on the lowest tier of seats, with everyone else of importance. He sat between Arya and Murtagh. He did not bother to speak, as Orik was saying something to his half-brother. He was anxious, for in a few moments he would have to pledge his fealty to Nasuada in front of the entire Varden. He clenched his hands and unclenched them.

"You have my support."

Eragon turned his head to stare at Arya, who was gazing at him with her piercing green eyes. "Do not falter. You have our support." His gaze flickered to the green dragon that sat on the ground, watching the ongoing. He nodded and she returned the gesture with a small jerk of her head. He did not bother listening to Jörmundur as he began to speak, only stepping up to give his word that he supported Nasuada after Murtagh.

When the Council finished pledging themselves to Nasuada, they lined up on either side of the podium, Jörmundur at the head.

"Then by the power of the Council, we give the commands and rights of the leader of the Varden to Nasuada, Ajihad's rightful descendant." He laid a circlet of silver on Nasuada's brow and took her hand, bringing her upright. "I give you our new leader!"

For ten minutes, the Varden and dwarves cheered, thundering their approval. Eragon fought the urge to cover his ears, as the loud level of noise felt as if someone were taking a hammer to a piece of metal. Once their cries subsided, Sabrae motioned for Eragon. "Now is the time to fulfill your promise," she whispered to him.

Silence overcame the amphitheater as he started towards Jörmundur and Nasuada, Saphira beside him. As he walked, he cast a dark glance at the Council, effectively wiping their smiles and smugness from their faces. Behind the council members stood Arya and when she nodded at him in support, that strange confusing feeling overwhelmed him again.

With a brief look at Nasuada, he bowed and then knelt, slipping his blade from its sheath and laying it flat on his palms. Then he lifted it, balancing the sword between Nasuada and Jörmundur; letting it hang between them, for a moment. Eragon darted his eyes to Arya again, and he swung around to face Nasuada. "Out of deep respect and appreciation for the hardships facing you, I, Eragon Shadeslayer, give you my blade and my fealty, Nasuada."

**The lines over Ajihad's crypt, I am so sorry for taking but I couldn't rephrase that. But besides that, what did you think of the chapter? And I'm considering, just a little, that maybe every once and a while the POV should switch from Eragon to either Arya or his parents or Murtagh. In the future, there shall definitely be some POV of Nasuada. As for the next chapter, I'm deciding whether to do it in Arya's POV or Eragon's. If it's not in Arya's then the one after the next chapter will be, I hope. But until then, please review!**


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

**Alright, this is the Arya chapter, please tell me how you feel about this so I can fix anything with the upcoming Arya POV chapters. And also, I would like to answer an interesting question brought up in the review. Why did Brom stay in Carvahall? Answer: Thinking that Selena was dead, he thought that the thing he should do to honor her memory was to see that her ****_only _****son was brought up correctly. :) I hope that cleared up some confusion. And as for Eragon and Arya getting together, you'll see. Anyways, R&R!**

No one moved, not a single soul breathed a word as Eragon Shadeslayer knelt before Nasuada, offering his blade and his loyalty. Arya was displeased with his position, she would even go far as to say that she loathed its necessity. He was right though, she thought as her eyes drifted over to the dwarf king, his own expression blank. In a game such as this, they were just mere pawns. Hrothgar would without a doubt bring Murtagh under his influence. She returned her eyes to his kneeling figure, watching as Nasuada touched the tip of his blade to his forehead. His expression, she thought, looked rather resigned.

Arya watched as he stood, stepping back with Saphira. With shouts of approval, the crowd rose to their feet, dwarves hammering their boots to the ground, while human warriors banged their swords against their shields. The noise made her sensitive ears want to bleed.

After a few more speeches by various personages—including a still glowering Falberd—the amphitheater began to slowly empty. She waited until Eragon had stepped past the council, ignoring their heated stares and outright distaste. "You've earned some powerful enemies today."

His expression was grim as he sighed. "All the more reason we should leave Farthen Dûr — and soon." As she took in his appearance, she noticed that he appeared tired beyond his years. It was a feeling Arya would frequently have when around him. The feeling that he never really enjoyed himself; that he found everything in life a bother. She would never speak of such matters to him, though, for she hardly knew anything about him. The lack of understanding made her curious. She knew Murtagh; knew him enough to know what made him uneasy and what did not. But Eragon was a mystery to her. She did not know how he felt when he would see her. He always wore the same expression, a blank stare, as if nothing interested him.

They left the amphitheater together. As soon as they were out of the large open area, Eragon's servants were upon them. "My lord!"

Another mystery. One would expect that none of the four of them were especially talented in any way. But they had proved their worth during the battle of Farthen Dûr. Finny, who seemed to be the youngest, no older than twenty and no younger than sixteen, was always smiling. Or at least, he was when she saw him. He would give the impression of a young man that did not have a care in the world; in contrast his unnatural strength was daunting. Bard, who seemed to be the oldest in appearances, looked like he was in his late twenties. He had proven himself to be an apt spellcaster. Rosalie was a skilled healer, and Arya knew nothing of the small petite woman called Desdemona. Both looked as if they were in their early twenties.

Eragon turned to her, his expression changing very slightly, she noticed. His brows dipped forward and the corners of his lips lifted slightly. He was apologetic for the interruption. Arya nodded and without a word, she turned and left, with her dragon following at her heels. It intrigued her as to why they served Eragon with such loyalty, going so far as to step in harm's way for his sake. Nearly everything about him was shrouded in mystery. Entering her room, she sank down onto her bed, grateful that the day was over. Another funeral . . . and that brought her thoughts to Fäolin and Glenwing. Were they buried properly?

_No. _Now was not the time to grieve over the past; there were more important matters that demanded her attention. She could not ignore them. _Ellesméra . . ._ it has been too long. What would her mother say? Knowing that her only daughter, the only heir to the knotted throne, was a Dragon Rider? Would she accept it? It just made the situation more tenuous. The danger had increased tenfold. From princess to ambassador, and now to Rider.

Her dragon, who sat at the foot of her bed, stood and made his way over to her, nuzzling the side of her leg affectionately. At least she had someone who could share her fate. It was true, she had lost Fäolin and Glenwing, but in return she was given someone who would be her life and mind partner. One who would always understand the depths of her feelings, without her having to explain. She too had to thank Eragon. She owed him much. She would perhaps never be able to repay him for what he had done for her.

Her eyes flickered down at her dragon and at the emerald orbs staring directly back at her. They were the same color as Arya's eyes. She smiled, reaching out to stroke his snout. Eventually he would get too big to fit in her room. He may be only two weeks old, but he was as tall as her waist now. No doubt he would tower over her in a few months' time. "Rest now little one. Tomorrow we shall be preparing for our journey to Ellesméra."

Arya watched as he blinked before curling up on the ground. His jaws opened, a light puff of smoke billowed out.

Early dawn came and she rose with it. Her habits had never changed despite living among humans and dwarves for so long. It appalled her, how some would laze around in bed until late noon before rising and trying to achieve a day's work. She detested many customs, not least how the women wore different clothing than the men. Arya would never bring herself to wear a dress when leggings and a tunic made combat much easier, for some reason something that human women disapproved of.

Her destination that morning was Nasuada's study. It took her half an hour to reach it due to Tronjheim's massive size. When she arrived, instead of two normal two guards at the door, an entire squad of warriors stood before it, alert for the slightest danger. Though the men recognized Arya and her dragon, they barred the way until Nasuada allowed entry.

Nasuada sat behind her desk, still cloaked in black. As Arya seated herself and her dragon beside her, she greeted her. "Good morning, Arya." She nodded in return. Nasuada continued. "I'm sure you've noticed the state of the Varden. We can no longer idle about as a mere resistance movement. We are poor, low on supplies and overextended — along with the fact that few recruits want to join us."

Arya nodded. "When you reach Ellesméra, I would be glad if you could convince your mother to again aid our cause." Nasuada had been told of Arya's position before she had taken the appointment of becoming the new leader of the Varden. "The dwarves cannot support us any longer. With this in mind, I have decided to move the Varden to Surda — a dangerous move, but one I believe it shall be to our advantage. We at last shall be close enough to engage the Empire directly."

Surprise seeped through her at the declaration. To move a force as massive as the Varden would be a difficult task. "King Orrin had agreed to openly support us, with news of Eragon, Murtagh, and yourself."

"I see," said Arya, knowing that despite being an ambassador for her people, she had no power to change Nasuada's mind. "What of your own safety? When Eragon, Murtagh and I leave for Ellesméra to train, who shall protect you then?"

Nasuada favored her with a smile. "Ever since Eragon swore his fealty to me, I've gained many powerful allies. Brom has agreed to stay by my side and assist me in matters involving the Varden. His servants have also agreed to give me their loyalty. I'm sure that you've heard of and seen their abilities."

"I have."

"Then do not worry for me, and hurry to Ellesméra to finish your training, though I should doubt that you and Eragon would need any." Yes, that was true. Arya had studied swordsmanship, magic, and many things besides for decades. Little surprised her lately. She'd had seventy years to perfect her skills and from what she had seen of Eragon, he did not need training any more than she did. "Though traveling with Eragon and Murtagh may be rather unpleasant. They don't seem any closer to overcoming their differences. As requested for by King Hrothgar, I shall be sending Orik along as well."

Orik? She had known the dwarf ever since she arrived in the Varden, but she could not imagine him to willingly travel across Alagaësia to the land of her ancestors, especially atop a dragon. Dwarves had never seen the benefit of intertwining their fate with dragons, and that was why none had ever been a Rider.

The thought of traveling with the two half-brothers made her uneasy. Their differences were sure to make cause for arguments. Nasuada seemed to have mistaken her uneasiness for something different altogether. "If you are worried about Eragon, you should not be. He may seem devoid of emotion, but I've heard that he is very kind at heart."

"No, I'm not worried about Eragon in the least. I . . . trust him. It's the situation of him and Murtagh constantly in company that worries me."

"Ah, sibling rivalry. Or so it appears to be." She glanced down as if deep in thought before returning her gaze to Arya. "You should ready your supplies and meet me at the Northern Gate; I still have yet to speak with Eragon."

"You have?"

A small smile appeared on the dark woman's lips. "I was told by a rather distressed Bard that he doesn't take well to rising early. Apparently, he is an irritable but fairly early riser. He cautioned me to give Eragon time to collect himself."

Arya nodded, taking in the new piece of information. Standing, she bowed swiftly to Nasuada before exiting the study. An irritable riser? The information amused her to no end. She saw Eragon as a strong, hardened warrior, but the thought of him waking up disgruntled made her lips twitch. He was, on all accounts, an intriguing person. The kitchen was the next stop, as her dragon was hungry. When she neared it, the sight of Bard hunched over with laughter greeted her.

"My god!" he roared, pounding his fist against his knee. "That was amazing! I thought they were going to tear her to pieces!" He had not taken notice of her as she stopped before him, her eyebrows raised.

"Tear who to pieces?" it was amazing how fast his laughter subsided and how ramrod straight he stood, his arms by his side, his chin raised high as if saluting a king or queen.

The next thing he did surprised her. He twisted his right hand and placed it above his sternum, in a gesture of respect. "Miss Arya." She was so shocked about his knowledge of her people's etiquette that it took a moment for her to form a reply.

"Bard." Arya inclined her head. Then curiosity overwhelmed her. "Where did you learn that gesture?"

He grinned, looking sheepish. "Lord Eragon taught it to us when he arrived here. Though there had yet to be a circumstance in which to use it." She nodded, and her curiosity for the Rider heightened considerably.

Arya turned back to the subject at hand. "Who was about to be torn to pieces?"

A chuckle escaped his lips as he explained to her. "A sorceress came looking for Lord Eragon. I think her name was Trianna, but I can't say for sure. It was outright wooing if you ask me. It was rather alarming when Desdemona and Rosalie caught sight of her." He chuckled again, his blue eyes sparkling with unsuppressed merriment. "They looked ready to roast her on a spit."

Arya nodded feeling her own lips curve up into a smile. An interesting story indeed. She blinked when her dragon snapped impatiently. "It was pleasant to speak with you, thank you, Bard."

He nodded, inclining his head. "May the stars watch over you."

With that she left for the kitchen. The cook there had obediently served up the meat for her dragon to eat. Arya did not partake of meat, nor did she like the smell of it. It was natural for her dragon to eat meat, though, as all dragons were predatory animals. It was something she would need to become accustomed to. After he had eaten what appeared to be an entire deer, she left to pack.

Arya took time when packing; she did not rush like most people would as in the end, they would always forget something. It would take much longer since she had to bring some food along for the journey. Despite her pack's heaviness, it made little difference due to her elven strength. Who would she be riding with, Eragon or Murtagh? The thought occupied her mind as she walked, only to blink out of her reverie when someone called out to her. Turning, her green eyes came to rest on Brom and Selena.

"Is something amiss?" she asked them when they had reached her.

"Nay," said Brom with a shake of his head. "I wanted to speak, before you met with the others at the gate." He handed her a scroll that was sealed shut with red wax. "Give this to the Cripple who is Whole for me, it explains at length Murtagh's training. I am afraid that I am unable to travel with you, since the Varden have more use of me here. An old man like me would only slow you down and time is of the essence."

Arya nodded sticking the scroll into her pack, tucked safely under her food and bed spread. Selena, who she had rarely spoken to, stepped forward, her brown eyes bright. "I do not know you well, Arya, but I have a favor to ask of you."

Her brows slanted into a frown. A favor? "If it is in my power, then I shall lend you my aid."

Relief flooded her expression and she nodded. "Can you watch out for Eragon and Murtagh for me?" said Selena. "I know you think that Eragon can handle himself, but I don't want him alone. I am reluctant to see him travel to Ellesméra. Despite having Saphira, I can't help but feel that when he reaches your forest, it would make that loneliness of his much more stark." She pressed on before Arya could open her mouth to respond. "He doesn't open up like Murtagh does. Even as a child he did not have friends. So please, extend your hand to him in friendship. I feel that you will come to understand him."

She hesitated. But a part of her mind understood what Selena was asking. Eragon did not seem close to anyone at all besides Saphira, his mother and maybe his servants. And to travel to Ellesméra, it would isolate him. After a few moments of deliberation, she nodded. "I shall do what I can."

A breath of relief escaped her lips. "Thank you and I know this seems much, but if possible, lend him your strength." Her eyes became downcast. "Growing up without a father has made Eragon a person who doesn't ask for help easily. Whether he doesn't know how to rely on others, or if he has no desire to, he doesn't give you the chance to worry over him." A soft smile graced her lips, as her brown eyes, so much like Eragon's, stared into Arya's emerald ones. "And yet, he has a way of aiding others without realizing it."

That was right, Arya thought. He had helped her from the beginning. He had rescued her from Durza, had given her the last remaining egg. And without realizing it, she found herself faintly smiling. "I understand."

"Thank you, Arya," said Brom from behind Selena, though his eyes seemed a little drawn down as he spoke. She nodded and collecting herself, suggested that they go to the Northern Gates of Tronjheim. When they had arrived, a small group was already there. It consisted of Eragon and his servants, Jörmundur, Nasuada, Murtagh, Orik, Saphira and Thorn. Her dragon, who had been following her, ambled up to Saphira excitedly, his tail swaying from side to side, before licking the sapphire dragon's snout.

Arya's eyes flickered to Murtagh who wore a helmet and etched into it were the stars and hammers of King Hrothgar's clan, the Ingeitum. Now every race had a claim on a Rider. Selena rushed forward and embraced Murtagh and Eragon both, causing their heads to bang into one another. Then releasing them, she embraced each individually, kissing them on their brows and cheeks, saying, "Have a safe journey. I love you."

Brom stepped up next and the tension around the four seemed to have worsened from his actions. He said his good-bye to Murtagh, before slowly turning to Eragon. Arya could tell how his face hardened and his brows slanted dangerously. It was a wonder that looks could not kill, for Eragon was glaring at his father so darkly; it would spark fear into even an Urgal.

"Have a safe journey, Eragon." He reached out a hand hesitantly and for a long moment they all thought that he would deny it, until Eragon lifted his arm and gripped Brom's forearm, him returning the gesture. This nearly had Selena crying with happiness.

"We should set off, Aiedail has set." Eragon nodded and released Brom's arm before gesturing to her pack. She handed it to him and watched as he tied it to one the saddlebags on Saphira.

"Take care of my mother and Nasuada for me while I'm away," Eragon instructed his servants. They nodded and bowed, saying their goodbyes to their lord for what seemed like the hundredth time by Eragon's expression. He turned to her, and an intense curiosity and familiar strange feeling welled up in her as she stared into his deep brown eyes. "Climb onto Saphira first, I'll sit behind you."

Arya nodded and with the elegance and speed that she was born with, jumped from Saphira's foreleg to her shoulder, sliding her legs into the straps as Eragon instructed from where he stood on the ground. With as much grace, Eragon followed suit, settling himself behind her. His strange smell drifted to her nose, like a fresh day mixed with the scent of something musky. His arms settled on her waist. The small space between them did not alarm her, but it only increased the strange feeling she felt.

Her eyes turned to Thorn, with Orik and Murtagh. The dwarf sat in front like her, while Murtagh sat behind. She could see the apprehension in the dwarf's face at the thought of flying. With a surge of her powerful wings, Saphira kicked off from the ground, angling towards the tunnel with Arya's dragon following and Thorn bringing up the rear.

That strange feeling gripped her again as Eragon's pressure on her waist increased while Saphira gained elevation. _What was this feeling?_

**_So, _****how was the chapter? Please review. But anyways, I shall see you in the next chapter which I hope shall be posted soon enough. **

**Chapter update: 08/16/2014**


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

**Alright another chapter! And can you believe how excited I am? They are about to enter Ellesméra! Finally! In any case, R&R!**

Traveling was made easy atop dragon back, though it was unusual, as Eragon had to sit behind Arya for the entire journey. He did not mind, though — her presence was soothing to his mind. She spoke little and preferred to sit in silence, perhaps speaking to her dragon that flew below them. Eragon would have liked to travel all the way to Ellesméra, but for some unfathomable reason, Orik insisted that they visit the dwarf city, Tarnag. He felt apprehension settle over him as he thought of the visit. Eragon was young, but he was far from lacking intelligence. The dwarves would not take well to seeing Murtagh as one of their kind and when looking at him, they would only see him as an enemy, for what the Forsworn had done to the dwarves.

He felt rather sorry for Hrothgar as they approached the city. It was a bad choice of options for him to begin with. To choose between the son of a Forsworn, or a Rider who had served Galbatorix for four years. With Nasuada having claimed Eragon, he was left with Murtagh. Without warning, he felt Saphira lean forward towards the ground, folding her wings to her side. Fully bringing his arms around Arya as if to hug her from behind, he tightened his grip as the wind blew past his ears in what sounded like a scream and Arya's hair whipped him in the face. From anyone's point of view, it looked as if they were going to crash into the ground, but at the last moment, Saphira flared out her wings on either side of her and brought them slowly to the ground.

_My, that was rather exciting, was it not? _Saphira craned her neck to stare at them with one large sapphire eye, the corners of her mouth lifted in a grin. He rolled his eyes.

"A warning would have been nice, wouldn't it?" he said, watching as Thorn landed in front of them and Arya's dragon by their side.

"Barzûl!" Orik grumbled from where he sat. "Another dive the likes of that and I'll surely lose my life from fright, instead of dying honorably on a battle field."

_Honestly, it was not that bad, _remarked Saphira, turning her head to take in the sight of seven Feldnûost running towards them with dwarves atop their backs, sitting in what seemed to be bejeweled saddles. The lead dwarf, naming himself Thorv, spoke to Orik and Arya, and they replied in turn. He then instructed his companions to form up around them and without further prompting, led them through the tall city gates of Tarnag.

Unlike the other dwarven cities Eragon had visited, Tarnag was not built with the height of other races in consideration. Hanging throughout the city were the dwarves' flameless lanterns. Jumping down from Saphira's saddle, Eragon landed steadily on the ground and the other three decided to do the same, Orik seeming highly relieved.

From there, Thorv led them through the streets of Tarnag, which were crowded with various dwarves, all of whom stared at them. Though they initially held respect in their eyes, the respect turned instantly into outrage at the sight of Murtagh's helm etched with the hammers and stars of the Ingeitum. He bent his head closer to Arya, to whisper into her ear, "It appears Hrothgar's adoption may bring more trouble than he had intended."

"It may already have done so." Arya's green eyes swept the crowd as they approached a great hall. As they neared the hall, a group of armed dwarves streamed out from between the houses and formed a thick line, blocking the street. Eragon felt his face harden as he stepped forward, his hand hovering over his blade. Long purple veils covered their faces and draped over their mails.

Their dwarven guards mirrored Eragon, reining in their Feldnûost, their faces hard. He glanced to the side as Orik came to stand next to him, a hand on his axe. _Are they refusing us passage?_

_It would seem so,_ Saphira replied. He saw out of the corner of his eye how she wrapped her tail protectively around Arya's dragon, still too small to defend itself.

A veiled dwarf raised a fist, crying out in their rough language. It was enough to have Thorv reply with a sharp retort. As they argued, Eragon noticed a gleam of respect Thorv held for the veiled dwarf.

Eragon frowned when the dwarf pointed his finger at Eragon then at Murtagh in accusation. His eyes narrowed. T_his will not be resolved peacefully,_ he thought as the scene unfolded before him. The dwarf stared long and hard at the two of them before pulling out an iron-wrought ring, wrapping three hairs around it that he had plucked from his beard and throwing it in the street, spitting at it. Then they broke ranks; a dwarf at the end ran forward, his dagger flashing with a speed Eragon did not realize that dwarves could possess. Pulling out one of his swords, their blades met, sparks flying. Reaching out with his free hand, he gripped the attacker by his beard and tossed him into three other similarly charging dwarves.

He glanced back at Murtagh who was surrounded by the seven guards, frustration etched on his face with his inability to lend his assistance. Arya sidled up next to him, her narrow blade drawn, her face intent, until they stood side by side. "We need to clear a way," she whispered, gesturing towards the hall with a motion of her head.

He nodded. "I'll charge and split their ranks and you can—"

He stopped when her green eyes flashed darkly. "_We'll _both charge." He stared at her for a few moments, before giving in with a nod. With that, they ran forward, their blades flashing in the light. As they planned, the dwarves broke ranks, fleeing into side streets, and Eragon saw that Murtagh and the others were hurrying through the barbican. He felt Arya grab his upper arm and drag him with her after their party.

They appeared in a wide courtyard with three banquet tables, decorated with lanterns and banners. Before it stood a group of dwarves, who were hurriedly conversing with Orik, his hand outstretched and the ring upon his palm. Sheathing his sword, Eragon turned to Arya. "I could've followed without your help."

Her green eyes met his and that strange feeling came to him again. "Is it wrong for me to want to help you?"

And that was how Arya sealed his feelings for her, even though he did not know it at the time. He stared at her long and hard, and she stared back, unblinking. _This warmth . . ._ it was something he had not felt in a long time. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as a gray-bearded dwarf came up to them. "I apologize for the unexpected hostility, Eragon Shadeslayer. I am Ûndin, son of Derûnd and clan chief of Dûrgrimst Ragni Hefthyn."

Another dwarf stepped forward, his frame that of a warrior. "And I am Gannel, son of Orm Blood-ax, and clan chief of Dûrgrimst Quan." He did not miss the flicker of Gannel's black eyes towards Arya in distaste.

"Thank you for having us," said Eragon. The clan chiefs greeted Arya in turn, but when they did not greet Saphira, he felt his eyes narrow. There was a reason for why the Forsworn had slain any dwarf in sight.

Ûndin turned back to Eragon, "I've prepared a feast in honor of the three of you. Please, allow my servants to guide you to your quarters and refresh yourself, so that we can begin."

He wanted to deny it outright, for he did not like eating with others and discussing worthless pleasantries. But it would seem rather rude for a guest to deny the request of host. And so a few hours later he found himself seated next to Arya and across from Murtagh at one of the long banquet tables. He could not contain his grim expression as he glanced back towards the direction of the entrance of the hall where extra guards stood. This was why assassinations happened so easily. Only fools would eat in the open when it was obvious at how the purple-veiled dwarves wanted to kill them.

When servants began piling food onto their plates, Eragon politely declined a large slice of Nagra. "I do not partake of meat," Eragon explained as he took a bite of a pear, answering Arya's questioning stare. "It is a lesson that I learned long ago."

He watched as the other diners ate the delectably spiced meat with great enthusiasm. To kill another for the purpose of fulfilling hunger, it sickened him. "Have you ever been here?" Eragon asked Arya, as Murtagh began talking with Ûndin and Orik with interest.

She nodded, spearing a piece of lettuce with her fork. "I have, though Tarnag has been inhabited only since less than two decades ago now, since when your father killed Morzan. Easily visible from the air and with no natural defenses, it was an easy target for any Forsworn."

"I see," Eragon murmured. Everyone saw his father as a hero. He sighed. If only he had come for Eragon . . . _No, _wishful thinking was useless. The past was the past, no matter how hard one willed it not to be. Wishes do not come true, Eragon thought, only miracles. But even miracles rarely occurred, and certainly not if one sat back and waited for one to occur. "Do you believe in miracles?"

His sudden question caught her off guard. She stared at him, bewildered. "Miracles?" he nodded, watching as her lips pursed in thought. And finally she answered him. "I believe in matters that can be proven with evidence."

He frowned, bringing his eyes to gaze up at the stars. "But then they wouldn't be called miracles." He blinked as he stared at the stars. Were they_ moving?_ Bringing his eyes to the food in front of him, it felt as if the entire world were swaying. _What was happening to him_? He felt himself slump over in his seat, as a strange force pulled him out from his body.

_Emptiness. . ._

_He was standing in a white void, devoid of anything but a crypt, closed and bound shut with metal chains. Eragon stared at it. Something evil was inside, wanting to break free and take control, of that he could tell. Suddenly, one of the many chains that bound the crypt withdrew into the ground._

_It cannot be! The chain reappeared an instant later, wrapping itself around his right leg, holding him in place._

_ The enchantment was breaking . . . his dream was going to become his nightmare. . ._

Eragon blinked, his eyes focusing on his plate filled with fruits and vegetables. All around, no one seemed to be aware of what had occurred, to his relief. Save for the elf that sat beside him. He frowned when a goblet was pushed under his nose and turned to stare at Arya. Without asking what it was, he took it from her hands and drank, aware of how dry his throat was. "Are you feeling well?"

"I am weary, though a good night's sleep will put my mind at ease," Eragon replied. Something shifted behind her green eyes but she laid the matter to rest. Saphira, who sat at the end of the table, turned to stare at him, worry emanating from her. He shook it off.

The next day he found himself wandering aimlessly through the temple, Celbedeil, studying the odd arts. Everything, he observed, was made with a great deal of gold or similarly precious materials. The dwarves spent more money on their beliefs than on their people, Eragon mused, staring at one particular painting.

It was of an elf with angled eyes stared down a hooked nose and narrow chin, his shoulders high and tensed. _Eragon. _He held a white dragon egg in his hands. Eragon reached out to touch the image. "You and I are quite different," he whispered.

He heard a door open and close and turned to see Arya approaching from the far end of the gallery. She scanned the wall with a blank expression, though he could tell that she found the temple rather distasteful. Arya inclined her head. "Eragon."

"Arya," said Eragon. "How does the day find you? Well, I hope."

"It does indeed," her gaze flickered to the image he stood before. "Though I never thought you would take interest in the dwarves' mythology."

He shook his head. "I've long thrown away the belief that gods exist, whether they be humans' or dwarves'. I've simply nothing better to do and found my time spent inspecting the dwarf's temple."

"And what is it that you think of them?"

"Selfish."

His answer surprised her. Eragon elaborated, "They built all of this as a monument for their wishful thinking. Instead, they could have used the money to help the poor and the needy, maybe offer assistance to the Varden." He scoffed. "I do not see the good of visiting a temple layered in gold and precious stones and praying for a good season, or for a wish to come true."

"You have given the matter a great deal of thought." Arya observed. He shrugged, a slight rise of his shoulders.

"I had plenty of time to prefect such opinions." He let his eyes roam around the hall. "Wishful thinking achieves nothing. And that is where I find the fault in their reasoning. To pray for assistance, to receive no answer and continue to do so…is worthless."

His cold answer seemed to have caught Arya off guard. "You seemed to believe in miracles last night when you asked me, did you not?"

He turned to gaze at her green orbs with a small smile. "Miracles may happen, but not if we wait around for gods or some divine entity to do it. Miracles are things that we make for ourselves, here and now." He sighed. "But no one seems to realize that, always putting their faith before their reasoning."

Arya remained silent beside him as if deep in thought. "You may be human originally, but your thinking is much akin to an elf."

"Is that so?" She nodded. He raised a brow, but did not question her any further. "Enough of that, though. Is there something you needed to speak to me about?"

"Orik and Ûndin believe it best that we leave Tarnag. Az Sweldn rak Anhûin has inflamed the citizens against your brother." She looked rather tired by the sudden turn of events. "The crowds may attack us with true intent, unlike the other day, when they only hoped to intimidate us. We will need to leave soon, so as not to further turn the citizens against us."

Eragon nodded, returning to his room to gather his things. When he had returned to the courtyard, the dragons were already waiting for them along, with Murtagh and Orik. _The citizens want to draw blades._

_Then we shall leave all the faster. The troubles Hrothgar has brought us,_ Eragon replied with a sigh, watching as Arya's dragon stood by Saphira in what seemed to be alertness. Arya soon joined them, handing her pack to him without a word, allowing him to tie it to Saphira's saddle. Eragon studied the darkening sky.

Eragon began to rub his temples upon hearing the agitated tones of Tarnag's citizens, as if a large headache were bothering him. "I was prepared for Hrothgar claiming Murtagh, but I did not believe that he would do it in such a way that would anger the dwarves to such an extent."

"If any, the fault lies within Hrothgar for presenting such an offer in the first place."

He nodded. Silence reigned for several minutes. Finally, Eragon asked, "Are you ready to return to Du Weldenvarden?"

She gazed at him with questioning eyes, so he continued. "Like I said before, seventy years is a long time. It might make you feel uneasy around your own people. Neither Humans nor dwarves share any particular similarity in culture to elves."

Her gaze hardened and she stared at him for a long time, before lowering her eyes to the ground. "I do not know the answer myself. But maybe when we reach the outpost of Ceris, I shall be able to find it."

He nodded. "I'm sure you will."

They turned to find Ûndin approaching them. "I'm sorry for the hostility brought upon you. As guests, you deserve no such troubles." He spoke to the three of them, as they gathered about him. "This is where we shall part; I hope your journey to Du Weldenvarden shall be swift. I am only shamed by how your stay was darkened by Az Sweldn rak Anhûin."

Murtagh bowed murmuring his thanks and Eragon followed suit. He did not have to say a word to Arya, as she bounded up Saphira's side and onto the saddle. Eragon settled himself behind her, his hands coming to rest on her waist. Warmth seeped through his body as the scent of crushed pine needles reached his nose, refreshing his mind and sharpening his senses.

Saphira took flight, flying above Tarnag and the outraged citizens that flooded the streets at the sight of the three dragons leaving their city. She flew easily over the gates and veered towards the direction of Du Weldenvarden, along the Az Ragni. Now that they had dealt with the dwarves, Eragon wondered how the elves would take to the son of Morzan and Galbatorix's Rider of four years entering their forests. It was a daunting thought.

**Alright so here comes a serious question. Did Arya truly love Fäolin? Were they even mates? I know this may sound stupid but think hard on this, readers. In Brisingr she spoke of Fäolin as a companion amongst the short lived races and that they had traveled together as close friends. BUT she didn't say that she necessarily loved him. Please tell me what you think for this affects the story quite a bit. Personally I don't think she loved him, I think she just thought of him as a close friend, not as a lover or a mate.**


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

**Thank you for all the review everyone, it sure helped clear some of my thoughts. I would like to thank you, Buddy, for reviewing. Your reviews always bring questions to my mind and it helps me write the story better. And your answer to my Arya and Fäolin question really helped me out there. But thank you, readers, for your replies. It was much appreciated. And the poll about Eragon and Arya getting together is now closed. But besides that here's another chapter! I hope you all like it! I'm so excited! I finally get to reveal some of my plot!**

It did not take long for them to reach the fringe of Du Weldenvarden; it had been but two days since they left Tarnag. They had flown above the Az Ragni River which soon merged with the Edda. With every passing hour, Arya appeared tenser, Eragon noticing it with his arms wrapped around her petite form. As they made camp on the first night, he could see how tense she was, the outlines of her body rigid, straining her otherwise graceful movements. Tomorrow they would reach Du Weldenvarden and the elves that were stationed at the outpost of Ceris. Eragon did not know why she worried so much, when it was he who should be worrying. They may not know that he was Gabranth, but when he voiced that he was, they would surely hold a knife to his throat.

That was why he was wary, for one could never guess what an elf was thinking. Eragon turned his head, gazing at Arya's back as she kept watch over their camp, Murtagh and Orik sparring with one another. When asked to spar, Eragon had politely declined, fearing that his temper would take the better of him and he would end up breaking Murtagh's bones. Grabbing an apple from his pack, he stood, walking over to Arya. She did not glance up when he sat down next to her, only continued to look at the dark mass in the night sky, Du Weldenvarden. He held the apple out to her. "Eat. And then go rest, I'll keep watch."

The apple was offered to her for a full ten minutes before she reached out and grasped it with cool fingers that brushed his hand. The sound of crunching met his ears. They sat there for a while, before she finally spoke. "I'm afraid."

To say that he was surprised was an understatement. He did not know much of Arya, but he did know that she was a strong warrior and for her to be afraid gave him pause. He turned his eyes to gaze at her, and her emerald eyes stared back, bright in the darkness. "I'm afraid," she repeated, "of what might happen once I step into Du Weldenvarden. What my family might say when they see me, alive and a Dragon Rider. This uncertainty makes the fear all the more real."

_Comfort her. _He blinked, irritated that Saphira was eavesdropping. Begrudgingly, he took her advice. He was not accustomed to comforting others. He had never tried to make anyone happy besides his mother and Saphira. On some occasions he did so with his servants, but they were happy if he gave one small compliment. Arya was different. He did not know how, but he wanted to help her forget her fear. Eragon's hand reached out and was about to grasp hers but he settled for gripping her shoulder in a comforting way. "If it's of any comfort, to be able to admit that you are afraid makes you a strong person, Arya. I have no doubt in my mind that you can — that you _will _face your past and your people without hesitation."

He held his hand there for a full minute before withdrawing it. She had yet to speak, so instead, he decided to tell her what was on his mind. "I am also afraid." A breath escaped from his lips as he spoke. "That day in Tarnag had me thinking. If the dwarves reacted with that much hostility at our presence what will the elves do? Saving you and Murtagh and killing Durza does not wash away the blood that has stained my hands. It was easy to fight off the dwarves, but elves, maybe one or two but not a crowd. I'll be considered an enemy in your lands."

Her hand moved so fast, he did not realize that she had gripped his wrist until he glanced down to see the outline of it. "No, they won't, elves may be cautious but we are willing to forgive. Given enough time."

"And if they do not?"

Her grip on his wrist tightened. "Then I shall plead for your cause, as will Murtagh and maybe even Orik. Do not worry; you are not alone, Eragon."

His brown eyes widened as he stared at her. How was it that she knew how to make him feel welcomed? Cared for even? He blinked, his dry eyes irritating him, as emotions welled up within him. Finding his voice, he felt angered that it was heavy as he said, "You are not alone either, Arya."

He could see her faint smile in the dark as her hand withdrew. Composing himself, he spoke again, his voice normal. "You should go to rest. I'll keep watch, thought I doubt anything would attack us with Thorn and Saphira nearby. Even your own dragon would give many predators pause." The corners of his mouth turn up at the last sentence.

She rose with a fluid motion and sauntered back to camp, leaving Eragon to sit and watch with his bow and quiver in his lap. Thinking back to the previous night, as they packed up the next morning, he had not needed to use it. They flew for a short while, only to land when Arya motioned for the dragons to do so. She had instructed for them to walk and for the dragons to fly overhead. They did, traveling down a narrow trail through tangled dogwood and rosebushes, which filled the air with their warm scent.

Despite the fact that he did not know how the elves would react, a small feeling of excitement welled up within him. He could feel Saphira's excitement as well. At last, they came upon a small meadow set between the river and forest. "Stop here," Arya said in a low voice. She walked forward until she stood in the center of the meadow, then cried, "Come forth, my brethren, for you have nothing to fear. 'Tis I, Arya of Ellesméra. My companions are friends and allies, they mean us no harm." He felt his body tense as the ancient language flowed from the leaves of the trees before Arya replied, "I do."

With a rustle, two elves appeared at the edge of the forest while two others dropped out from the trees. It was hard not to think of elves as wild, with their intense love of nature. In contrast, they were the most elegant and graceful of all the races. Those on the ground bore long spears, while the others held bows. All were garbed in moss colored tunics and flowing robes. One had tresses as dark as Arya's. The other three had hair the color of starlight.

They embraced Arya, laughing in clear voices, before joining hands to dance around her in a circle, like children, singing merrily as they spun through the grass. Murtagh seemed to be enjoying the music of their laughter; Eragon on the other hand was taut as a bowstring. They had yet to take notice of them, standing amongst their midst as they focused their attentions on Arya. Another reason to have a large distaste for being in Du Weldenvarden was that the elves were a capricious race; one moment they could be outraged, the next they would give you blessings. He was going to have to tread lightly now in order to not offend anyone.

Then Saphira and the others drifted over the river to settle beside Eragon and Murtagh. At their approach, the elves cried out in alarm and aimed their weapons toward her. It happened all too fast, Arya's words seeming to grow deaf on their ears as they took in the sight of Eragon and Saphira, the sapphire dragon beside him, coming to the conclusion of his identity in that moment. The sound of a familiar twang echoed through the air, followed by the hissing as something flew towards him.

Surprise flooded him as the arrow bored past his wards. But then, why should he be surprised? This was a magical race that he was facing, for elves to come up with a spell that could overcome his wards was hardly a surprise. He grunted as the sharp metal pierced the skin in the center of his chest, stumbling at the force with which it flew at him. His foot caught something and the world whirled about him. He went from gazing at Arya and the elves, to staring bewildered into the sky, before closing his eyes to the green of the grass.

_Eragon blinked, coming back to himself. He was standing in the familiar white void; facing the same crypt that was shut tight, with chains and bound by enchantments. The chain on his right leg had not given way yet as he stood there. Another chain slid free of its bindings and reappeared from the white ground below him. It reached up as if a living creature and wrapped itself around his left leg._

"_Your time is running out, Eragon."_

He blinked, gazing up the ceiling of a wooden hut. _Where am I? _He thought sluggishly. The last thing he remembered was being hit by an arrow and falling, hitting the grass of the meadow. But this was not the meadow. The arrow was gone and the center of his chest was intact, as if it had never had an arrow sticking out of it in the first place. His tunic was missing. Eragon sat up, rubbing his chest as it ached. Lying next to him was a new tunic, the color of moss, one like those the elves wore. Next to it was a steaming bowl of mushroom soup. The bowl was made from an unusually dense wood, Eragon noticed, as he held it between his hands. The shape of a dragon was carved into its side.

Picking up the spoon next to it, he gratefully sipped the hot soup. It was delicious, warm and sweet. When he finished, Eragon stood, bringing the tunic over his head. The fabric was fine, even more so than the dwarves'. It felt silky and smooth against his skin as he walked out of the hut to find everyone gathered around a fire, talking quietly. At the sight of him, they all stopped to watch his progress. It was already night, the dim light of the fire giving light to the small clearing. _How are you feeling?_

_Like someone walked on my chest, _Eragon replied, as he took a seat next to Saphira. The large sapphire dragon nudged him with her snout. He glanced at the elves, who looked pale and ashamed of themselves. _Have you been giving them a hard time?_

She snorted. _If you mean to ask if I have forgiven them, I have not. When you forgive them, so shall I. _He nodded. Arya was watching him the entire time as he spoke with Saphira. "How are you feeling?"

"Well enough," was his stiff reply. _She was worried. _He glanced at Saphira in surprise. _Oh, do not act so shocked. When the arrow hit you, it was caught in your chest rather well. What was worse was the fact that it was a barb-headed arrow. It was a rather tricky predicament. The metal was lodged against your throat, cutting off circulation. Arya was rather distressed when she had to push it out. One wrong move and you could have died._

_Were you in a panic?_

_ No, I was not._

At his amused expression at her denial, Thorn turned towards them, as if sensing the conversation. Eragon allowed him entry into his mind. Immediately, the male dragon's deep voice rumbled in his mind. _If it were not for Arya and I, she would've torn the elves to pieces. And I'm sure that they would've defended themselves._

She huffed, but did not contradict the red dragon. Eragon smiled and reached out to pat Saphira gently on the snout, earning a lick on the arm. One of the elves, who had been watching Eragon, stood up sharply. His starlight hair was bright in the darkness. He moved to stand before Eragon. Bowing deeply before him, he twisted his right hand over his sternum then touched his first two fingers to his lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon-elda, and without giving Eragon a chance to reply, "I am Edurna of House Tsébin; I cry your pardon, for it was my arrow that pierced your chest. I deeply regret such an act. Please, do not allow this event to mar your opinion of my race."

Eragon stared at Edurna, and he could see in the elf's face the deep regret he held. His eyes flickered to Arya's expression, which was tense, her eyebrows slanted. He was not surprised that it had happened; he had expected a charge, rather than just an arrow. Touching his first two fingers to his lips, he replied, "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr, Edurna-finiarel. It was a simple mistake." Eragon finally said quietly. "You were just being cautious and I do not hold any animosity for you."

"Elrun ono, Eragon-elda, un du evarínya ono varda." Edurna replied, relaxing only slightly.

One part of him screamed that he was an idiot to forgive Edurna, for he had nearly been killed by his arrow. But to survive in Ellesméra, he had to bend his pride. This was merely a test for what might happen as he was presented to the queen. Edurna had still to stand. Eragon realized that he was waiting for Saphira's forgiveness as well. He poked her hard in the side and from the smile that graced the elf's face, saw that she too, had given it.

When that was out of the way, the elves again began to sing and dance. They truly were capricious. "That was kind of you." He turned, glancing at Arya in surprise, not realizing that she was next to him.

"Did I do something kind?" said Eragon, bemused by her statement. She seemed to find his confusion amusing, for she tossed him a faint smile, shaking her head. When she did not question him anymore, he sighed. One never knew what an elf was thinking. No wonder why Galbatorix did not want to face them directly. Even when he was strong, taking on the elves in their forest would be a humiliating downfall. "How are you feeling?"

Now it was her turn to be bemused. "Should I be feeling any different?"

He shrugged. "Has it subsided? Your fear?"

Arya sighed and her long fingers swept through her dark hair. "It has but grown." With that she stood and left for one of the huts.

The next morning, they were packing their things into canoes, which, to Eragon's surprise, were strong yet light. As they were boarding, he found it amusing how Arya insisted that he share a canoe with her and Narí, while Murtagh, Orik, and Lifaen boarded the other. She must not have wanted Eragon and Murtagh together, so as to avoid any potentially embarrassing scenes. If that were to happen, it would disgrace Arya and only show to the elves that two of their hopes were ignorant and foolish Riders.

Eragon did not need to learn how to paddle, for he had been taught as a child while fishing. As they paddled up Eldor Lake, a sense of peace settled over him. It was quiet, except for the chirps of birds and the tumbling of water over rocks. Du Weldenvarden was much different from the stone cities of the dwarves and the brick and mortar walls of the cities within the Empire. He could sit there, paddling in silence for hours without complaint.

As they traveled, Arya often engaged him with conversation. As well, Narí would ask him of Urû'baen and the Empire and the goings-on of other cities. He would reply politely, though he spoke most of the time to divert Arya's attentions from her fears of returning to Ellesméra. The strange and warm feeling he had for her only grew more intense as he spent more time with her. Though he did not understand it, Saphira would often enjoy teasing him on the subject.

He turned his head to stare at Lifaen, who was gazing at Arya's dragon that was paddling in the water beside their canoe. A strange hope gleamed in his eye as he gazed at the emerald dragon. Eragon understood; an elf as a Rider was a great hope, for everyone knew that elves were skilled with the sword and strong in magic. Little did an elf need to be taught. They were proud of Arya, he thought. Proud that she was a Dragon Rider. She, who devoted herself to the greater good of her people, was finally able to do so to the fullest, to become the bearer of their hopes and ambitions.

Deep in thought, he blinked when a white feather drifted from the sky. Fascinated, he reached out his hand; watching as it landed lightly on his palm. It must have fallen from a passing bird. "Do you collect feathers?" asked Arya, who was gazing at it intently.

He shook his head. "No, I just find it to be a beautiful symbol, that's all." He took in a deep breath. "Birds are blessed."

"How so?" said Arya, genuinely intrigued by his statement.

"They have wings," explained Eragon. "Wings symbolize freedom for those who have none. They are above all other creatures, having a freedom even as great as dragons'. To fly from one place to another without restraint, that is true freedom." _Those wings, I want them too. _"But I was blessed with Saphira, and her wings have brought me here, to Du Weldenvarden. She gave me freedom."

Understanding shined in her eyes as she nodded. A small breeze lifted the feather from his palm; it drifted forward towards Arya, lightly breezing across her nose. He watched as her face scrunched into a frown. Then she did something that surprised him. Her mouth opened into a small 'O' shape and a sound that he had never thought to hear from her came out.

She sneezed.

He stared at her for a moment, before he could not help himself; he found his mouth twisting into a smile, and a booming laugh coming from between his lips. Arya was so regal and dignified that the act made her look ridiculous. He had held her in such high standards; Eragon had forgotten that even she had to sneeze now and then. The look of astonishment on her face, from his reaction, made him laugh even harder. From some distance, he could hear Saphira's roar at his mirth.

When he finally regained control of himself, Eragon shook his head, staring at Arya's back as she continued paddling. It surprised him, just slightly, as he came to realize that he enjoyed being in the elf's presence. It calmed him, like nothing else could, not even than Saphira and his mother. The warmth in his chest bloomed.

**So, what do you all think? I just had to put in Arya sneezing. It was a must have for me. :) But my life is getting pretty busy nowadays and I'll try to keep to my policy of fast uploads. I know how it feels to wait around forever to read something that you like. Please review and tell me if you like the ExA fluff because I plan on putting loads more in my story. And we are almost at 200 reviews! Just keep going and a chapter of Eragon's servants shall be posted! See you all at the next chapter! :) And don't forget to review!**


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**I'm so excited! Hehe...finally we're getting somewhere! Oh I forgot to mention in the previous chapters that the two elves stayed to guard the outpost in Ceris so I hope no one got confused there when only two accompanied Eragon. Another chapter, and it seems that the majority of you want Eragon and Arya together at the Agaeti Blodhren and I shall try to make that happen. But I want to see if I can cover some of their relationship first. But besides that, happy reading and reviewing!**

Since leaving the outpost of Ceris, Eragon had found traveling with the elves to be an irritating experience. They laughed at any opportunity, smiled too often and praised the dragons too much — though it was clear that they did not mind. Saphira loved to be flattered. They were a proud race. He did not trust the elves, except for Arya; and even she appeared uncertain of how to act around her own people. He was glad that she was so forthright, for Narí and Lifaen never gave him straight answers, always in roundabout ways. That was why he gave up speaking to them altogether. He found it meaningless to waste his breath, when he would not receive an answer to his question. Murtagh on the other hand was delighted to be in their company and continued asking questions. His half-brother was a fool.

The elves, Eragon decided, were a conceited race. The war with the dragons' had proved that. They had killed a dragon as if it were a mere animal and had resigned their fate to a bloody war. They still were a conceited race. Their superiority in magic and strength made them overconfident. His eyes drifted to Arya's back. He sighed, whenever he thought of or saw her, his mind could not focus and ached as if someone was pounding on his head with a hammer. He stretched slightly where he sat; he hated sitting in one place for so long. It made him feel restless. Arya turned to stare at him, one brow raised, "Would you like to rest?"

Eragon shook his head. "No, I'm fine." He brought his paddle down again only to have it tugged out of his hand. Glancing down at the water, he openly frowned when he realised that Arya's dragon had taken the wooden board and bit a large chunk out of it. Yesterday, Saphira had been busy communicating with the dragon. Eragon had grown annoyed at this. Her attention was constantly occupied with the emerald hatchling and he had deliberately distracted her. _This must be revenge, _Eragon thought, half amused, half irritated.

The elves on the other hand were praising the emerald dragon as it swam through the river beside their canoe. It may turn out that they would write sagas about this. Now with nothing to do, he felt even more restless. Eventually, Arya handed her paddle to him, and turned her entire body so she sat facing him as he paddled. "So," Eragon started, casting about for a topic. "He does not seem to like me much."

A smile formed on her face as she reached out to stroke her dragon's snout. A few more days and it would be old enough to talk. "Only because you can easily draw Saphira's attention, as he can. Maybe even more so. I am afraid he has taken to her."

He sighed. "Having to share her attentions will take getting used to."

Arya turned to gaze at the clear, sparkling water of the Gaena River, before turning to face him. "What was your childhood like, Eragon?" Her voice was soft as she asked and he so was thrown off by her sudden interest that it took him a moment to reply.

"Why would you like to know?"

"You never speak of yourself often . . . and I—" she stopped herself and turned to stare at him. Eragon gave her a grim smile.

"I grew up in a castle in Urû'baen, next to the palace in which Galbatorix resides. Being a child I did not understand many things. I never did much work or labor at all. Servants did all of that. The only things I have ever done were read and learn." Eragon sighed. "My mother did not go out much, so neither did I. That is why I did not have friends at that age. I stayed indoors with my mother often. I did not truly understand the world, until Saphira hatched for me."

"Were you happy?"

He considered this for a moment. "Yes and no."

"Growing up, there was very little that made me happy. And being under Galbatorix's watch was not one of them." His expression grew thoughtful. "Or perhaps I was just hard to please."

_I believe the latter; _Saphira appeared from over the trees and dived into the water before them, shaking the canoes roughly. He watched as she swam over to nudge him in the nose. _You were a spoiled child. Fr_om the way Arya chuckled, he knew she had heard it too. _But I love you._

He smiled and bent forward to kiss her snout, a sign of affection he rarely showed to anyone. This earned him a wink as she pulled back before diving underneath the water and reappeared next to Arya's dragon. He could feel a somewhat strange emotion from Saphira as she swam in the water. He gave no voice to the thought. "I think I can imagine that, you as a spoiled child."

"I am sure that you can," Eragon replied, straight-faced.

The following day, as they were packing up camp, Arya instructed the dragons to fly only at night, as they would be passing one of the elven cities, Sílthrim. It was integral that the Queen be the first to meet them. Saphira had violently protested to this. She did not trust the elves as much as she let on. Her bitterness for the arrow mishap was still intense and deep. _If I leave you, the next thing they might do is stick a lance through your heart!_

_You worry too much, _Eragon soothed, though he was grateful for her protection. _I trust Arya to protect me, don't you?_

Here, the strange feeling welled up within her and he made a curious expression as she turned her head away from him, hiding her large eyes. _You seem to become more relaxed around her._

_Her presence is soothing; she is a good friend._

Saphira sighed as if annoyed with his response. _You are rather blind, Eragon._ Then she continued in a softer tone. _I have always known this would happen. I was prepared for it, but it is much harder than I thought. I have to accustom myself to sharing._

To say that he was confused was an understatement; he did not understand her inference. _Sharing? _What was she going to share? When he had asked, she did not answer, but lightly nudged him. _Go on, little one, I will be fine with Thorn and you can calm Arya's fear. Nothing shall happen to the hatchling._

_Take care, then._

With that, he reluctantly turned away from Saphira to board the canoe before frowning at the sight of Murtagh wearing a hooded cape. "Should I wear one?"

He felt his blood boil when Arya stood close to examine his ears, though he could not understand why. "No, your ears are pointed as ours; no one will suspect that you are an outsider."

He nodded and boarded the canoe again, though the stark loneliness of not having Saphira close by pierced him. It was hard to endure, for everywhere he went since he was twelve; she had been by his side, as much as part of him as he was her. She had protected him with her physical strength and her warmth. As their connection grew fainter, the loneliness grew larger, until he felt a coldness the world.

They had passed many elves, as Arya had predicted, propelling the same type of canoe down Ardwen Lake. She must have noticed the effect that not having Saphira with him had on him. She would murmur to him quietly as they traveled through the water, to keep his thoughts occupied. For that he was grateful.

"We will stop here for the night," Arya said as Murtagh brought his canoe next to theirs. They made camp a ways away from the bank of Lake Ardwen. Before dinner, Eragon went to collect firewood. Wandering about, he heard a loud rustling noise, mixed with harsh cries not far away. Following the sound, he came upon a small ravine and on the other side, a gyrfalcon with a broken wing thrashed in a thorn bush.

The raptor froze when it saw him, then opened its beak and uttered a piercing screech. Watching through his eyes, he regretted the raptor's predicament. _What a terrible fate, for one of the sky to die on the ground._ Concentrating, he cast spells of inspection, hoping to find the falcon's body healthy enough to heal. While he intoned, Arya and Murtagh walked towards him, having gone to look for him when he had not returned with the firewood.

When he had finished, he found Arya looking at him with an inquiring stare. In reply, he shook his head. An unspoken understanding passed between them and Arya fixed a comforting look towards the falcon. Quietly, she spoke a single word of death and the falcon slumped over peacefully. Without another word, they both turned away, heading back to camp. Murtagh stood still, processing what he had seen. Turning to them as they passed, he asked simply, "Why?" Arya and Eragon exchanged a glance. Eragon replied, "It had lost too much blood and could not be healed. It would have died tonight. It was no easy thing to do, but Arya saved it hours of suffering." With a slightly troubled expression, Murtagh nodded in reply. The three then walked back to camp in silence.

Dinner was a boisterous affair; Narí sang a fast melody, while Lifaen accompanied with reed pipes. After the meal, their energy died down to soft spoken conversation. Eragon felt a strong urge to throw his bowl at Murtagh, who kept asking questions to the elves. New ones sprung from his mouth with as much ease as breathing. This _person _must have grown up in a world that knew nothing of matters besides farming, hunting and chopping down trees.

Leaning against a trunk, he stared tiredly at a meteoroid streaking across the sky and was about to sleep when a woman's voice drifted from the direction of Sílthrim. Soon enough, more voices joined in, creating a sensual melody that rose and fell with a teasing sigh. It was good that he had wards protecting himself, but even then, his blood seemed to pound thunderously through his body. Eragon forced the strong feeling away, stomping it into nothingness.

Murtagh on the other hand was having a problem. He stood up with a wild abandon and made to run for the forest, but when he went past Eragon, he deftly stuck his foot out. Watching as his brother tripped, Eragon sighed. He stood up and held Murtagh to the ground, while Arya murmured the spell to ward off the music. On the other side of the fire, Lifaen and Narí were busy wrestling Orik into submission and for a dwarf he seemed to be giving the elves a decent bit of trouble.

". . . Nasuada."

He glanced down; surprised at the name of his liege lord leaving Murtagh's lips in a faint whisper. So he did have affections for the dark-skinned woman. A smirk stretched across Eragon's lips as he stared down at his struggling brother.

"Gerr'off me," growled Orik. Lifaen and Narí lifted their hands and backed away.

"Your pardon, Orik-vodhr," said Lifaen.

Eragon, seeing that there was no further need to restrain him, stood as well, allowing Murtagh to sit.

"What . . .?" Murtagh asked, dazed.

"I miscounted the days; I did not want to be anywhere near a city during Dagshelgr. We sing in the ancient language, and the lyrics weave spells of passion and longing that are even difficult for us to resist. For mortals, they are perilous."

Yet despite the explanation, as Murtagh sat closer to the fire, he glanced towards Arya, another one of his dratted questions bursting forth. "What is the point of Dagshelgr?"

"To keep the forest healthy and fertile. Every year we sing for the life of Du Weldenvarden and the more elves that sing, the more powerful the song. And the greater the forest becomes." She motioned towards the animals that ran past or through the clearing in a wild frenzy. "They are in search of mates."

Orik came around the fire, raising his voice. "By my beard and axe, I shall not have my will be controlled by your magic. If it happens again, Arya, I swear I shall return to Farthen Dûr and you will have the wrath of mine clan upon you."

"Calm down, Orik." Eragon said, sitting away from the fire as he resumed his position against the tree trunk. "It is their custom. Even if Arya's shielding us, you cannot escape the magic of Du Weldenvarden; the entire forest emanates it."

"You seem to be fending rather well by yourself." The dwarf grumbled. Eragon shrugged.

"I have no need to let feelings of passion and lusts control me. My desire for such is not enough to overwhelm my every thought," he responded. Letting out a yawn, he nodded tiredly to the sky. "Wake me when we leave, I don't feel the need to stay awake all night."

From where she sat at the fire, Arya nodded, her eyes drawn towards Sílthrim with a hungry expression. He was, however rudely awakened by a loud thud, as two large beings hit the ground. Feeling a panic overwhelm his mind, he peeled his eyes open to find Thorn and Saphira snapping at one another. The spell! Jumping to his feet, he rushed forward as the red dragon attempted to lung for Saphira who snapped at him. He could see the horror on Arya's face as she realised they had forgotten the dragons.

From what he already saw, Saphira had a large gash on her tail that was dripping blood. At the sight of the dark red liquid that splattered the ground, his anger overwhelmed him and he rushed forward, bringing himself between Thorn and Saphira. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Lifaen, Narí, and Orik struggling to restrain Arya's dragon. Murtagh on the other hand was having a problem from where he hung on Thorn's neck, if the red dragon were to toss him recklessly; it could end up killing him.

"Stop!" Eragon yelled as Saphira snapped her jaws again. She must be better at resisting the urge of the magic, maybe more so than Thorn as she was older than him. He dodged a furious swipe of talons. _Arya, hurry. . ._

"Calm yourself, Thorn!" but his statement was met with a loud roar. He made another swipe and this time a talon managed to rip open the skin on Eragon's right arm. _Damn! _His luck was getting worse and worse as he traveled to Ellesméra. Being shot with an arrow, and now he might even be shred to pieces by a dragon.

At the sight of blood, Saphira let out an enraged roar and made to leap at Thorn but when Eragon sent her his frantic emotions, pleading with her to stay calm, she resisted. It seemed that both dragons were calming down and Eragon was glad as Arya stepped forward, weaving the protective spell around them.

"That was reckless," said Arya, as she pulled his bloodstained arm towards her. Speaking in the ancient language, she held her hand tightly over the wound, which was soon drenched in the red liquid. He watched as the wound closed up, the skin coming together. "You may be strong, but not a match for a dragon."

"Well, I wasn't going to stand there and let Thorn keep snapping at her." he sighed. "To be the only female dragon." Walking over to her wounded tail, he quickly healed it. "It is a good thing your dragon is not fully matured."

The possibilities, Eragon thought. _How are you feeling?_

_Alive! My blood boils just being a mile away from the singing. It is as if everything is alive!_ Saphira exclaimed, her talons digging into the ground as she kept herself motionless. The thought of sleep was wiped from his mind as he stood next to her. His hand rubbed soothingly at the scales in the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

When dawn approached Lifaen and Narí went to fetch horses for them to ride to Ellesméra. They returned three hours later with seven white stallions, six to ride and one for their provisions. They were proud and noble, Eragon observed, like the elves. Powerful and only just taller than ponies. "They respond to the ancient language," Arya explained. "But do not mistreat them with blows or harsh words, for they are not our slaves."

Mounting the saddled horse, Folkvír, Eragon turned to Saphira. _One more day._

_I shall join you then, little one. _He nodded, glancing back at Thorn with creased brows.

_Eragon . . . _he frowned as a deep voice rumbled in his mind. He did not particularly want to speak to Thorn at the moment. _I will keep Saphira company._

His eyes turned meeting emerald ones. Arya's dragon talked! The dragon seemed to laugh at his reaction. _My name is Eridor._

He frowned glancing at Arya, _Have you spoken to your Rider yet?_

_Yes, _Eridor replied, his deep voice, still shocking. _Last night._

_I see. _He glanced from Eridor to Saphira. _Till night falls, then._

Gently spurring Folkvír forward, he followed after Arya. "Eridor, did you come up with it yourself?" he asked as they rode side by side.

"I did. A fitting name, is it not?" He nodded, agreeing with her.

The next few days were spent traveling with a hurried pace through the forest. Eragon did not mind how it would become pitch black at times. The myriad branches above would weave together to form a thick blanket that blocked the sun. Nor did he mind the pouring rain, which drenched them to the bone, with chilling water. As they rode deeper into the heart of Du Weldenvarden, the trees grew thicker at the trunks and taller, as well as farther apart which accommodated the dragons.

When noon came, a strange glow was set before them, and Arya signaled for them to pull to a halt. An elf stood before them, garbed in flowing robes, with a silver circlet upon his brow. His face was old, noble, and serene.

"Eragon, Murtagh," said Arya. "Show him your palms."

Baring his right hand of its leather glove, he raised it so that his gedwëy ignasia was visible. Murtagh did the same on the other side of Arya. The elf smiled, though his eyes lingered on them for a fraction longer, and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.

"The way is clear." Arya affirmed. At a soft command, her steed moved forward. They rode around the elf, and when they had all passed, he vanished as the light bathing him ceased to exist.

_Who is he?_ Asked Saphira.

Arya said, "He is Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vándil and guardian of Ellesméra since the days of Du Fyrn Skulblaka. None may enter the city unless he permits it." Eragon nodded. A quarter of a mile beyond, the forest thin and they passed two trees, and as he studied them, he found that they were elegant houses formed from the tree itself. As they rode further, more houses began to present themselves, each unique and elegant in its own way.

Eventually the inhabitants of Ellesméra revealed themselves. One by one the wary elves stepped into view, their almond eyes fixed upon the dragons, Arya, Eragon and Murtagh. They were like Arya, Lifaen and Narí — fair with angular features, and a beauty that belay their strength. He touched his lips in greeting.

As one, the elves bowed from the waist. Then they smiled and laughed with unrestrained happiness. He glanced towards Arya; she must be a large part of their joy. Someone in the midst of the elves, a woman, began to sing. Arya dismounted her horse. "Gánga." The stallion nickered and trotted away. "Release your steeds as well; we do not need them from here on. They deserve to rest in our stables."

Proceeding along a cobblestone path, Eragon felt slightly annoyed as the crowd of elves followed their party, dancing and weaving through the forest. Some were running above their heads, on branches, laughing with merry delight. They praised the dragons the most, seemingly not running out of compliments to give.

The path ended at a network of roots that formed steps, they climbed to a door embedded within a wall of saplings. The moment was coming to present himself to Queen Islanzadí. He was slightly worried of the outcome of his presence in Ellesméra. The door swung open, revealing a hall of trees, twelve chairs were arranged along each wall.

Seated in them were four-and-twenty elf lords and ladies. Unlike the elves outside, they bore circlets atop their heads and swords at their hips.

At the end of the hall, there stood a white pavilion that sheltered a knotted throne. Queen Islanzadí sat upon it. She was beautiful, proud and imperious, with two dark brows slanted like upraised wings, lips as bright as red holly berries and midnight hair bound under a diamond diadem. Her tunic was crimson. Around her hips was a girdle braided out of gold. Clasped at the base of her neck was a velvet cloak. Still, despite that, she looked fragile, as if she concealed a great pain. At her left hand was a rod and atop it stood a white raven, shuffling impatiently.

The door closed behind them as they entered the hall and approached the queen. Arya knelt on the moss-covered ground first, then Eragon and Murtagh in unison, then Orik, Lifaen, and Narí. Even the dragons lowered the heads in respect.

Islanzadí stood and the movement struck a chord in Eragon. The way she did it so fluidly and regally reminded him distinctively of Arya. She stopped before Arya and with trembling hands, placed them on her shoulders, saying in a rich vibrato, "Rise," Arya did. Eragon watched, studying the scene. The way she stared at Arya was different to how queen would look on her ambassador.

At last Islanzadí cried out and embraced Arya, saying, "O my daughter, I have wronged you!"

**Alright, I apologize for not getting the scene with Islanzadí in but this chapter was too long and I want to described that scene perfectly so you're all going to have to wait for a little bit until I upload the next chapter everyone! But besides that, what did you think? See you at the next chapter my avid readers.**


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

**Good job everyone, 200 reviews! Though I did considering posting the chapter for the servant's background, I thought that might get you all somewhat antsy since you are all waiting for this chapter. I hope I won't disappoint you all. But besides that tomorrow I shall hopefully post up the bonus chapter! And some questions to answer. Why didn't Saphira beat Thorn up for his snapping? Well, since he is a male dragon, his instincts to mate with her had overcome him during the song, but Saphira who was older and had much more experience and could control herself better and she knew that it wasn't Thorn's fault that he acted that way so she didn't want to attack him. And more questions. Why didn't Brom want to travel to Ellesméra? I've been thinking long and hard on this chapters back. Really hard actually. One I thought he might be a better help with the Varden (and this is probably laziness speaking but I didn't want to write three extra chapters because the dragons couldn't carry three.) Two, who thinks that Selena is too old to have a child? (Hehe. I've got something special planned for that.) Next question, the void that Eragon feels, I shall not reveal to you what it means. But it will show itself through the chapters and I will have Vanir to help explain that. So many questions! I hope that cleared some things up. And Murtagh's scar does hurt him but I never write it in. I will though when their training starts and Vanir comes into the story.**

Eragon stared at the two; he was surprised yet at the same time he was not. There had always been inkling that there was more to Arya than she let on. He had first noticed while she was his captive at Gil'ead. She possessed an air of authority that was hard to miss, and she was also very regal in posture. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the surprise on Murtagh's face at the revelation. It would seem that he did not take notice to many of the clues that were exposed to him. The fact that Islanzadí had cut ties with ties with the Varden at Arya's supposed death meant that she was a person of great importance to the elves. He was sure that her position had risen even higher, now that she was a Dragon Rider.

Saphira's amusement washed over him. _It appears we were traveling with royalty. Funny, is it not? You gave orders to the princess of the elves._

_It is more amusing that she followed them oftentimes, _Eragon thought. He watched as Arya seemed to take no heed to the words, saying formally, "Islanzadí Dröttning."

The queen withdrew as if she had been stung and then repeated in the ancient language, "O my daughter, I have wronged you." She covered her face. "Since you disappeared, I've barely slept or eaten. I was haunted by your fate, and feared that I would never see you again. Banning you from my presence was the greatest mistake I have ever made . . . can you forgive me?"

The gathered elves stirred in amazement. As he watched, he felt a kind of empathy overwhelm him. She had been banned from her mother's presence for seventy years. In a way they were alike. The difference was that his father did not know of his existence, but her mother willingly banned Arya from hers. He had no say in whether she forgave her mother but Eragon would not wish for any daughter to live without her mother. Arya's response came after a long while. "For seventy years, I have lived and loved, fought and killed without ever speaking to you, my mother. Our lives are long, but even so, that is no small span."

Islanzadí drew herself upright, lifting her chin. A tremor ran her length. "I cannot undo the past, Arya, no matter how much I might desire to."

"And I cannot forget what I endured."

"'Nor should you." Islanzadí clasped her hands, and Eragon could see that she was backing Arya into a corner as she spoke the next words. "Arya, I love you. You are my only family. Go if you must, but unless you want to renounce me, I would be reconciled with you."

Eragon saw her hesitate and glance at her audience and to his surprise, her green eyes flickered to his. He was not sure what expression he bore, but it seemed to harden her resolve. Though their eye contact was for a mere few seconds, Islanzadí did not miss it, and he could see in her own eyes what sort of relation Eragon bore to Arya. "No, Mother. I could not leave." Then Islanzadí smiled uncertainly and embraced her daughter again, this time Arya returning the gesture. Smiles broke out amongst the gathered elves. And Eragon found himself wishing…

He ignored the white raven as it sang a ridiculous riddle, and turned to Islanzadí, bringing his finger to his lips and twisting his right hand over his sternum. Now that the family crisis was out of the way, he was unsure of his own fate, when Islanzadí learned who he was and had been. Completing the traditional exchange, he listened as Saphira repeated the gesture.

"Dragon, what is your name?" Islanzadí asked when she finished.

_Saphira._

A flash of recognition gleamed in her eyes and he knew that she had thought of Brom, his father, for his mother had once told him that his father's dragon was named Saphira. "Welcome to Ellesméra, Saphira. And yours Rider?"

"Eragon Shadeslayer, Your Majesty." This time a stir rippled amongst the elves and even Islanzadí seemed startled. Then she moved on to Murtagh, Thorn and finally greeted Eridor, who seemed to have the most respect for the queen, as she was the mother of his Rider. As he had hoped, she had asked for narrations from Murtagh of his journey. It was interesting, Eragon thought. Listening to how his half-brother had left Carvahall because of the Ra'zac, went traipsing across Alagaësia, was captured in Gil'ead and when it came to Eragon saving Murtagh, he stopped, his glance coming to rest on him. Seeing the pause, Eragon tensed and Arya did as well.

"And I was saved—" Islanzadí's dark brows slanted as she waited for him to continue.

"What is it?"

"Mother, I—" began Arya, but Eragon cleared his throat, gaining their attention. He could see their nervousness in their eyes, the fear that something unpleasant might told. He would not have anyone else explain his history; he would confess it himself.

"The truth is," Eragon began in the ancient language. "I have not always lived as Eragon. For four years, I lived my life as Galbatorix's rider, Gabranth."

Their reactions were simultaneous. The elf lords and ladies stood, their hands flying to their swords, and even Islanzadí stood, waving her hand. Two elf lords ran forward, gripping him by the arm, one of their narrow silver blades coming to rest on his neck. Eragon sighed, as Saphira roared fiercely._ Calm down._ _You're only making it worse._

Arya walked forward to stand before him as if trying to shield him from her mother's heated stare. "How could you bring such a traitor into our forest?" Islanzadí said harshly.

"He is not a traitor, he has sworn fealty to Nasuada, the leader of the Varden," Arya replied. "This is not necessary, Mother."

"Has his mind been probed? You cannot place your trust in mere words." At this Arya glanced sideways and shook her head.

"Then we cannot trust him, at least, not for now." He watched as the queen moved forward and by a silent command Arya stepped aside. He did not back down when he met her stare; instead, he held his head high, not wincing when the sharp metal cut slightly through his skin. "It will be easier for you if you cooperate with us, Eragon Shadeslayer. Will you let one of my people probe your mind?"

"No." The word came out cold and resolute.

"I see," Queen Islanzadí replied resignedly. "If that is so, then you leave me with no other choice but to detain you for the time being."

_And what of me? _Saphira demanded.

"You are above our laws, Saphira." Islanzadí said. "We cannot detain you, nor place you under guard. We ask that you cooperate with us. Your Rider will not be detained for long."

_Do what she says, _Eragon said, trying to cheer her. _It won't be long. This is the only way they can trust us._

_They cannot trust you. Though they don't have an issue trusting me, even if you're my Rider._

_That's because they know that a dragon doesn't have the choices their Riders do. If I wanted to return to Galbatorix, you would follow me, you know that Saphira, _Eragon soothed, and felt satisfied when he coaxed her to concede. Her large sapphire head bobbed up and down in a nod. The queen seemed satisfied with the answer and gave another motion of her hand.

He frowned as the elves holding him moved him forward, none too gently. When he passed Arya, their eyes met and an emotion passed through the green orbs, too fleeting for him to understand what it had been. Eragon ignored Murtagh's gaze and Orik's frown as they pushed him forward and out of the hall.

The doors opened and he sighed as the hundreds of elves that had gathered gave way to their party. Nothing was said, but they stared at him as if he were a vulture within their precious forest. It irked him. Not moments ago, when they did not know of his identity, they praised him. Now they glared at him. He was starting to dislike the elves, capricious as they were. Letting them lead him off from the path, between the trees, they emerged in a small clearing where an isolated house stood. It was different from the other houses he had passed so far. "It is protected with wards that won't allow you to use magic," one elf holding him explained.

"We'll need your weapons," the other elf instructed, Eragon nodded and handed him both of his blades. With them in hand, the elves opened the door to the house for him and he walked in without another word. The first thing he noticed, when the door had closed shut behind him, was that there was not a light in the single-room house. He could not use magic to light a fire either. Still, there was enough light within the small house for him to see comfortably.

He made out a small cot in the corner but that was all there was in the room. It was void of any other furnishing. Sitting down, he let his back lean against the wall, sighing. At least no one had attacked him, though his throat was still bleeding. Bringing a hand up to it, he fingered the thin cut. He should have healed it before entering the house. Finally having some time to himself, it gave him an opportunity to think, something he had been doing a lot of recently. Arya was princess to the elves but for some odd reason, he felt disappointed. Doubtless, Islanzadí did not trust her daughter to be within close proximity of him for now. She might not even approve of their friendship continuing, if you could call it that. Having lost her daughter once to the Empire, why should she trust him? But why should Arya trust him either?

He sighed, throwing his head back against the wall. That was when it happened again. When he blinked, he found himself standing in the white void again.

_It had become increasingly often that he found himself standing here. Another chain had disappeared and bound itself around his arm._

Eragon blinked again, loud noises from deep in Ellesméra reached his ears. It sounded as though they were having a celebration of some sort, no doubt for the return of their princess and new Riders. He could tell that Saphira was not having any sort of enjoyment with him locked up in this house. Tuning the noise out, he returned to contemplating the white void.

With his regular visions of the void, his time was running short. If he could not find a cure in Ellesméra, he was sure that it would be the end of him. But who should, or even could he ask for help? The teacher he was to meet? He pulled furiously at his hair. He hated being alone and he hated being in the dark. . .

_The room blinked before him and he found himself staring at a brick wall. There were drops of blood on it, as if someone with bleeding fingers had tried to crawl up the slick concrete to the high window._

_Eragon found himself staring at a young boy with brown hair and brown eyes. But the boy did not look young and innocent; he looked tormented and haunted. He wore a dirty tunic and breeches that were made of the finest cloth, which had been worn out by dirt and blood. The stone chamber was dark, except for the small rays of light that shone through the window. The little boy said, rather tearfully,_ "I'm scared. It's so dark. . ."

_But he had long grown used to the darkness. He watched the little boy that was sitting crouched in on himself stand and walk towards the window, his head arching upwards as a mockingbird sat on the sill, trilling in its beautiful voice. _"Those wings, I want them too!"

Saphira had given him the wings that he had wanted. She had given him freedom. _Suddenly the mockingbird took flight, leaving the boy by himself. The chamber that had become rather light in the bird's presence had returned to an aching chill. Eragon watched as the boy fought the tears as a cold detachment flooded him. _"I'm all alone."

"I'm all alone," murmured Eragon, gazing at the hard bark of the tree, refusing to let the darkness of the room overwhelm him. He did not know how long he waited in the room; there was nothing to measure the time by. It felt as if time held no power as he sat in the darkness. He hated it, just knowing that he was sitting isolated from the celebration, from Saphira. It made his temper burst through and then he was seething with anger. After a few moments, it was washed away with acceptance. This was how he was going to live his life outside of the Empire. Not as Gabranth, one of the people's trusted lords. Not as Galbatorix's loyal Rider either. He was an outcast to the Varden and every race fighting for freedom from the Black King's reign. He would forever be an outsider.

_But you do not have to stay in Alagaësia, _a small voice in his mind told him. That was right; Angela had foreseen that he would leave Alagaësia and never return. That was a welcome option to him. To start anew, live a new life. Free from old burdens. But then there was his mother…

_But she will not live forever_. Another fact, Eragon thought, sadly. He would outlive his mother by far, and even his father. When she died, there would be no need to stay in a land that did not welcome him warmly. He would live the life of an outcast. Just as he was brooding, the door opened and to his surprise, Arya walked in, with a candle in her hand.

"You do not seem very happy," mumbled Eragon at the sight of the dangerous slant in her brows. "I thought you were out there, celebrating with your people." He added as an afterthought, "They seem to be happy that their princess has returned."

That made her brows slant even more dangerously as she moved to sit before him, crossing her legs, setting the candle to the side so it could dimly illuminate the room. "They are happy." Arya agreed coolly. "Though you do not seem as surprised as Murtagh was, nor reproachful that I hid the truth of who I am, from you."

"I understand the situation better than my brother." Eragon replied, scorn lacing his tone. "Why should I be angry that you hid who you are? Knowing that you are a princess would not change the standing between us. The only person I see you as is Arya." He did not catch her surprised look, continuing. "Besides, it all stood out that you are a princess. Since I met you in Gil'ead I had my suspicions. Your posture, your aura; it was all regal and dignified. Not to mention that you do not take well to orders. And then there was Queen Islanzadí cutting off ties with the Varden when she learned of your disappearance. If you were a regular elf, I'm sure she would not have taken such actions."

They sat there for a long moment and he was surprised to hear a laugh coming from Arya. It sounded like the trilling of a bird. He raised a brow at her. "Did I say something amusing?"

"No, just the fact that you are much more observant than your brother."

"I won't tell Murtagh that you said that." Eragon replied with a smirk. "Besides, where is he?"

"Resting. His back seems to have tired him out along with the journey; I think the appeal of sleeping on a mattress has overwhelmed him slightly. Though," she glanced at his small cot, "I cannot say the same for you."

"I'm used to it." His gaze turned serious as he stared at her. "And you? How are you feeling? You have just forgiven your mother after seven decades of living outside Du Weldenvarden."

Her light mood suddenly disappeared, leaving the Arya that he had come to know. "My Mother," she said quietly after a long time, "Has been in pain since my disappearance and I am happy to see her uplifted. Though it is hard to forgive things so easily and with just mere words. How can you forgive someone for leaving your life for seventy years?"

"You did," he stated.

"I did." Arya nodded. "However, the relationship between us will not be as simple as it used to be. Still, I did think of something when my Mother asked for my forgiveness."

"What was it?"

"That bitterness is a choice." Arya explained. "That I did not have to live my life hating my Mother for a mistake that she had made. It would not serve any purpose at all, whether harmful or helpful."

He did not reply, contemplating her words. 'Bitterness was a choice.' If she was right, then it could mean that he could forgive his father. But sixteen years…he glanced at Arya; she had to endure seventy years compared to him. Eragon sighed; he did not want to think of this now. "So, what will happen to me now?"

"My Mother is going to bring you to our teacher and he shall decide if you are trustworthy."

"Do you trust me?" He could not stop himself as the question came out. Before this moment, he did not care for anyone else's trust. He only cared for his mother and Saphira, but the wall of iron around his heart was suddenly crumbling.

"I do." The statement pleased him, but he did not voice the feeling. Instead, the door opened again and Islanzadí stood in the doorway, imperiously. He watched as Arya rose and made her way for her mother, glancing back at him once more before shutting the door behind her. She trusted him. Eragon smiled faintly, returning to his thoughts, hoping for sleep to take him.

**So, what did you all think? I didn't disappoint any of you did I? But I'm really glad that you guys like reading my story. Something I haven't told you yet, I think. At first I didn't think it would be such a hit, but I'm changing my mind a little. I'm so excited to get this story going to its climax! Please review and give me some suggestions. And I'm sure, Buddy shall not disappoint with his questions and conclusions that always help me think more on how to write this story. **


	18. Desdemona

Desdemona

**Alright everyone bonus chapter is up as I've promised! Now, some questions from the previous chapters. Why didn't the elves figure out Eragon's identity since the elves on the fringe did? Answer— the elves had trusted the elves at the post in Ceris to not let any traitors enter Ellesméra and they had thought Eragon a good person since he was allowed passage to Ellesméra by Gilderien the Wise. Nor did they give it much thought at the sight of their princess. And another thing, Vanir will not reveal the void he will help with his actions as I should say. But no more hints! And the next chapter shall be Arya POV. So watch out everyone! R&R!**

Having finished recording the funds, Desdemona gently closed the book of records that she kept. Lord Gabranth did not bother with such matters and Lady Selena usually did not care anymore than her son did. However, that was not the reason why she took the responsibility of it into her own hands. She did it to feel useful. More so than Finny and Bard, who simply destroyed the castle with their antics. This week alone, Finny had taken large chunks out of three different walls and Bard had blown up the kitchen using his magic. And Rosalie, who was usually very graceful, had been run over by an excited Finny and Bard chasing one another. The expensive tea set in her hands had ended up crashing to the ground. The expenses to replace it were high, not to mention it was Lady Selena's favorite set.

Desdemona sighed. She had not been born a servant girl, quite the opposite really. She was daughter to a nobleman. But how did she end up serving Lord Gabranth? It was because of her father's love for money. He had sold her to an earl who was enchanted by her beauty, her very capable talents in magic and skill with a sword. She was, as Desdemona had remembered him calling her, 'a maiden that had been created to perfection by god'. However, she was against the idea, against marrying a man whom she did not know, or playing mistress to him.

It was over three years ago since she had been taken to Lord Gabranth's castle for refugee.

_Struggling against the silver cords that bound her, Desdemona felt the taste of fear for the first time in her life. She had never been afraid much, being born to a wealthy nobleman and raised in a castle with guards and servants made her ignorant to the dark world outside of her walls. The chamber in which she was held was a chamber for the dead; skeletons and bodies laid about the ground. Now she lay bound on top of a crypt. She had been force-fed a poison that prevented her from performing magic. The silver cords had such strong spells of protection on them that no matter how hard she struggled, they would not break._

That man, _she thought darkly, _I will never swear an oath to him! _Earl Drewt had bound her thus, hoping the dead would frighten her. That she would eventually tire and swear to him in the ancient language her loyalty to him. Desdemona had to admit that she was growing weary of seeing and smelling the dead bodies. No one would find her down here. Her voice would not carry up the spiral steps, no matter how hard she screamed._

_Another aspect that made her restless was the fact that she lost track of time in the dark chamber that was her prison. It was constantly dark and she had begun to think that time had stopped moving for her all together. That was until her savior had come to rescue her. He was dressed in such dark armor that she had not noticed him at first when he had stepped down from the last step of the spiral staircase._

"_What do you want?" Desdemona asked, her lips curling into a ferocious snarl. But he did not answer; instead he walked closer to her, the metal of his armor clinking against itself. A hand reached out and lightly fingered her cords._

"_A strong spell," he said. What he did next surprised her. Letting his hand hover above her silver cords, he said roughly, "Jierda!" A blue spark of magic jumped from the palm of his hand and onto the cords breaking them. The metal slid from her body, rendered useless. She felt so relieved that it made her lightheaded._

_Swinging her legs to the side of the crypt, she made to stand, only to find her feet unsteady from their disuse. She did not have to worry about that for long, however, as the armored man swept her into his arms. Without a word, he ascended the spiral staircase. She did not know what had happened afterwards, but when she blinked tiredly, she found herself lying on a red lavish bed, the sheets tucked about her. A beautiful woman with red hair, about her age, bustled about the room._

"_How are you feeling?" the woman asked. "Tired? Hungry?"_

"_Confused." Came her answer as she sat up on the bed._

"_I'll bet you are," the woman said. "I'm Rosalie by the way."_

"_Desdemona, where am I?" She glanced around the room, it was unfamiliar to her._

"_In Lord Gabranth's castle."_

_Lord Gabranth? The name sounded familiar. Desdemona tiredly rubbed her hand over her face. "He rescued you from Earl Drewt's castle when he went to visit the earl. You fainted before he brought you here."_

"_Oh," so the man who had rescued her was Lord Gabranth. "Where is he?" Desdemona asked._

"_In his study," Rosalie answered, handing her a cup of hot tea. "It'll get your mind refreshed. Drink up." And she did. The tea was delicious. Raspberry with a hint of honey. With some directions from Rosalie she had managed to find the study with ease, knocking before she entered._

_The image before her had surprised her. She had expected a man her age to have rescued her, but instead a young boy sat behind the dark maple table, flipping through a book and marking it with a quill. He was incredibly handsome for a boy, but in an unnatural way. His ears were pointed and his eyes slanted. He did not glance up when she entered._

"_I see you're awake."_

"_Thank you," Desdemona said; though her nature was never one to be thankful. She had rarely expressed gratitude in her life, had never needed to be grateful for anything. But this boy had drawn the desire to do so from her. "For saving me."_

_He nodded. "Do you plan on leaving? If you do I will not stop you. But if you would rather I hire you, then I shall, for you have skill with magic and the sword, so I have heard."_

_Desdemona considered his offer. Hire her? She had no experience serving other people. Her arrogant attitude had made her intimidating among her peers. But looking at Lord Gabranth, she felt as if she could serve him without issue. He had never once looked at her like other men did, showed no interest in her beauty, had given no notice that she stood before him. For some reason, she felt deeply connected to him. "If you will hire me, my skills are yours."_

She opened the door to his study, carrying a teacup in her hands. He sat behind his maple desk, his helm resting on the wood, a book in front of him as he read. Desdemona smiled; an expression that she rarely bestowed upon anyone. But the past three years had been wonderful and she had grown to love living with Lord Gabranth — it was very enjoyable. "Tea, Lord Gabranth? Raspberry with a hint of honey."

He glanced up at her briefly before drinking it. "Thank you, Desdemona."

Unlike before, he had taken notice of her, had looked at her. Smiling at him, she retreated from his study leaving him alone to read in peace.

**So, what did you think? Like it? Review. But now our goal is 300 reviews and then we have Bard and Rosalie left to read about. But I'm pretty sure I'll be done by then. And see you at the next chapter! Arya POV! I'm sure you're all excited about that.**


	19. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

**Alright the meeting with Oromis! Now when you read the chapter, before you exit, please read the author's note on the bottom! I shall have some things to explain to you all! And yes, I've been thinking and thinking and thinking, and I'm sure that I won't be able to have Eragon and Arya to come together at the Agaetí Blödhren. I want to explore every aspect of their relationship. But I'll have something special for that event so no need to worry.**

Tiredly sitting up in her new bed, she rubbed a hand slowly over her face. She felt uneasy being at home. It would take time for her to reacquaint herself to being around other älfya. Glancing out of the teardrop hole in her tree that was given to her by her mother; she took in the early morning view. As a Dragon Rider, it would be unfit for Eridor to live in Tialdarí Hall; he was going to grow far larger than her chambers. Murtagh had an identical tree, which Riders had stayed in during their stays in Ellesméra, as they had in her own. Only Eragon was yet to be given one. He was confined in the dark hut isolated far from Ellesméra's center. Even so, Saphira had reluctantly stayed in Arya's tree for the night; refusing Murtagh's offer, after the incident with Thorn during Dagshelgr.

Arya's thoughts traveled to a topic she knew other elves had thought of as well; which Rider would stay in Vrael's personal tree? It was a symbol of authority, and as such would grant as much to whoever was given the tree.

The sapphire dragon was curled in upon herself, sleeping on the dais next to Eridor, who did not mind sharing his space with her. Thinking back to their journey was oddly comforting, though tiring. She had not shown it, but the close proximity of the two brothers had made her skin itch. Even though Arya had yet to see either one of them lose their temper, she was not sure which would make for the uglier scene. However, she knew for certain which would cause the most damage.

Her thoughts drifted to Eragon. Last night when she had gone to visit him, for some reason, he looked…lonely. His face was ashen and appeared tired beyond his years, as if he concealed a great pain. The urge to inquire was beaten down by her more natural habits. It was not her business to divine another's. Nor did her relationship with him seem strong enough to delve into such personal matters. But what was her relationship to Eragon? Arya thought of this as she washed herself, pleased to get rid of the dirt and filth from her body. She may not abide to wearing dresses, but hygiene was something she made sure to prioritize.

He was strange; she never knew what he would do or what he would say. Everyone in her eyes was predictable. It never took much time for her to divulge the nature of someone who was not of her race. But Eragon surprised her greatly. _The only person I see you as, is Arya._ The statement had shocked her to the core. Everyone wanted something from her, her mother wanted her love and loyalty, Murtagh wanted information and support, the Varden wanted her strength. Eragon had never asked anything of her, which only heightened her intrigue. It was a strange feeling—to not be relied on. He did not see her as a Rider or princess like her people and Mother, or as someone of great knowledge and strength like Murtagh, or as the elven ambassador like the Varden.

_The only person I see you as, is Arya._

It was a relief beyond imagination—to speak to someone who expected nothing of her, who asked nothing of her. The joy that single statement had brought her made her ponder the situation. Was it because he was the only person who had ever said such a thing to her? Or was it another matter altogether? So many possibilities. Sighing, she pulled a pale tunic over her head, clinching it at the waist, slipping her sword onto her hip.

_You have been deep in thought this morning._ The deep voice rumbled in her head. Her green eyes darted to Eridor, who was getting to his feet; shaking his body to rouse himself. Having been accustomed to nigh on one hundred and four years of mental privacy, Arya still had to acquaint herself to having another presence in her mind. _Good morning,_ she replied, tying her boots. Eridor had a calming influence on her. Unlike the wild minds of animals that she spoke to, his mind was tranquil and soothing, and it helped settle her nerves.

_That it is, Arya Svit-kona_. Arya offered the sapphire dragon a rare smile as she watched her stretch her neck, letting out a loose roar. No doubt her people would be rejoicing at hearing such a long forgotten sound in their forest.

_Isn't she beautiful? _Eridor praised. That was another thing to worry about. Saphira, being the only female dragon, was going to have to divide her attentions between Thorn and Eridor and it was clear to her that the emerald green dragon had taken a great liking to her.

A knock on her door startled them. Regaining her composure, she called in the ancient language for the person to enter, knowing it was her mother. She was wary of the confrontation that may occur. Last night, her mother had shown disapproval towards Eragon, despite the fact that he had saved her life. She particularly disliked her mother's control over whom she associated herself with. "Mother." Arya inclined her head.

"Good morning," Islanzadí greeted, inclining her head towards Eridor and Saphira, who acknowledged her in return, though the blue dragon nodded her head rather stiffly. "I hope the day finds you well, my daughter."

"It does… I did not expect you to arrive so early."

She did not answer, but instead turned. Her velvet cape billowed behind her, her right hand motioning. "Come." Without a word she followed her mother. Saphira and Eridor followed them from their descent out of the teardrop. Her course took them to the edge of Ellesméra, where the paths were faint and the buildings few.

Islanzadí stopped them at a wooded knoll and within moments, Murtagh and Orik appeared. Not far behind was Eragon, led by two elves that were holding his arms in place, their swords pressed against his neck. Dark bags were prominent under his eyes. He has seemed to be excessively tired in recent days. She could not remember a time seeing him rising from a peaceful sleep recently.

Islanzadí spoke, "Before we go any further, the five of you must swear in the ancient language that you will never speak to outsiders of what you are about to see, not without permission from me, my daughter, or whomever may succeed us to the throne."

"I thought you did not put trust in mere words," Eragon said, as Murtagh and Orik hesitantly gave their oaths followed by Thorn and Eridor.

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "In this case, I have no other choice but to do so." After a brief pause, Eragon gave it and so did Saphira.

"Thank you," said Islanzadí. "Now we may proceed."

The moved to the top of the knoll, which looked down on the forest of Ellesméra, as if it were the edge of the world and she stood on the brink of it. Arya saw a flash of recognition in Murtagh's eyes.

Loud thuds met their ears, so loud that her eardrums soon felt as if they were on the verge of bleeding, though she resisted the urge to cover her ears. Then from the edge of the cliff rose a huge gold dragon with a Rider on its back; Glaedr and Oromis. She watched her companions' reactions closely; Murtagh fell to his knees while Eragon watched on, unsurprised.

Oromis carefully descended from his dragon's back, his hands clasped before him as he approached Murtagh. "The Mourning Sage…as you asked, I have come." Remembering his manners, he hastily placed his fingers to his lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

Arya frowned, he had known of Oromis? Her Mother, however, bypassed shock and turned to anger. "You knew?" she whispered. "You knew of their existence and yet you did not tell me? Why have you betrayed me, Shur'tugal?"

Oromis smiled sadly. "I kept my peace because it was uncertain if the Shur'tugal would live long enough to come here; I had no wish to give you a fragile hope that might have been torn away at any moment." Islanzadí spun about, her cape billowing about her.

"You had no right to withhold such information from me! I could have sent guards to protect them!"

"I hid nothing from you, Islanzadí, but what you had already chosen not to see. If you had scryed the land, as is your duty, you would have discerned the source of the chaos that has swept Alagaësia and learned the truth of their existence. That you might forget the Varden and the dwarves in your grief is understandable, but your own daughter? You have been blind to the world, Islanzadí, and lax upon your throne. I could not risk driving you further away by subjecting you to another loss."

Her mother's anger drained from her face, leaving her pale and her shoulders slumped. "I am diminished." Arya watched as Oromis and Glaedr took notice of Murtagh and Thorn before moving onto herself.

"It was a pleasant surprise when I saw you, Arya, a Rider," Oromis said, smiling kindly at her. She nodded.

"I, too, was surprised, if not a little overwhelmed." Eridor, who stood still at Glaedr's inspection, was waiting patiently for his evaluation. _We are well met, Eridor. I am Glaedr_. She smiled when Eridor's joy at passing under the great dragon's eyes reached her. Then it was time for the moment they had been waiting for; Oromis slowly approached Eragon. His expression was the kindest she had ever seen. It must be a connection he felt for him, as he too had been captured and tortured by Galbatorix's orders.

But Eragon refused to look Oromis in the eye. "Eragon Shadeslayer, I apologize for your situation," Oromis began softly. He motioned to the elves and they hesitantly backed away, though still close enough to react if need be. "It is an honor to meet Brom's son."

If anything, the comment only served to further distance Eragon from Oromis. As she stared at the two figures, it was as if watching a brilliant light colliding with a dark abyss. The more Oromis tried to extend his kindness towards Eragon, the more he withdrew from the Rider. It was as if he had forgotten long ago how to act in the presence of kindness. The thought made a strange warmth pass through her. "There is no need to recoil so, Eragon." Oromis spoke softly clasping his shoulders, turning so Eragon to face him. "I've seen it in your travels, in your eyes, your heart is pure."

"Then you are blind." Eragon murmured stubbornly. The two elves bristled at this, but Arya stayed calm. She knew enough of Eragon to know that he was cold to strangers. Oromis did not seem fazed by his attitude, but instead nodded.

"By your leave, Islanzadí Dröttning?"

"Go," she said, "Go and be done with you."

Oromis motioned for the three of them to follow. Eridor was still too young for her weight. Swiftly mounting Saphira, she gave no mind to her mother's stare. That could wait for later. Within moments, Eragon was settled behind her, his hands come to rest on her waist. Together the four dragons flew northward for several miles to land in a clearing situated near the edge of a cliff. A low hut was grown between the trunks of the trees.

"Welcome to my home," said Oromis as his feet touched the ground. Sliding from Saphira's back, she watched Eragon's back as he approached the edge of the cliff, his tall figure stark against the bright sky in which the sun was raised overhead. Whatever he was thinking was hidden by his detached expression, in which nothing seemed to interest him. "I live here, on the brink of the Crags of Tel'naeír. It provides me the opportunity to think and study in peace. My mind works better away from Ellesméra and the distraction of other people."

He disappeared inside his hut, returning with stools in his hands. As they took their seats, he made another trip to retrieve four flagons of clear, cold water for them. As they sat and waited for what felt like hours, Arya was surprised that Murtagh could sit still. Usually he was bursting with questions. But he waited patiently, sipping his cool water. Eragon had his eyes closed for the entire time so it looked as if he were sleeping, though she knew better.

After some time, Oromis spoke, "You have learned the value of patience well. That is good."

"You can't stalk a deer if you are in a hurry," Murtagh replied. She watched as Oromis lowered his flagon and nodded, before asking to see Murtagh's hand. It was easy to depict the nature of a person by studying their palms, but it was a practice that eluded her. Only those with the experience required could hope to divine a person through their hands. "Correct me if I am wrong. You have wielded a scythe and plow more often than a sword, though you are accustomed to a bow."

"Aye."

"And you have done little writing or drawing, maybe none at all."

"Brom taught me my letters in Teirm." The corners of Eragon's mouth curved downward. And so on it went until Oromis turned to her. Arya had to admit, it felt unusual to consider Oromis was her teacher now. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this moment, until Eridor had hatched for her.

"You are very accustomed to a sword, a master even, and talented with a bow." Oromis observed with a slight smile, as if expecting what he saw. "You write with elegant script and beautiful lines. And I must say; there is not a single scar on your hands. With what you have experienced, I am quite surprised it is so."

Just a small tinge of pride colored her emotions. Oromis then turned to Eragon. She could see the interest that was piqued in Murtagh, as he watched and she did as well. He said nothing when Oromis took hold of his hands with a soft expression. "You are very talented with the sword, very talented indeed. Are you ambidextrous?"

Eragon nodded his head. "It's easier to kill with two hands instead of one," he replied quietly.

"You have written much, though I cannot say the same for drawing. Very little use of a bow as well," Oromis concluded. He released Eragon's hands and turned to them. "Every day an hour after dawn starting tomorrow, the six of you shall come here to train with Glaedr and I."

"Yes, Master Oromis," the three intoned, Arya and Murtagh answering quickly, Eragon hesitating slightly before responding as well, albeit with a slight hint of disdain. "Though," he turned his eyes to Arya and Eragon, "I am unsure how much training the two of you will require. I know the extent of your learning, Arya, and I have the letter from Brom explaining your training, Murtagh, but I know nothing of yours, Eragon."

He took a seat again on his stool, "From your hands I can tell that you both are well experienced with the sword. But I would like to see the extent of your skill for myself." Glancing from Arya to Eragon. "I would see you spar with one another."

Arya nodded, but Eragon shook his head. "I do not have a weapon. Queen Islanzadí has not returned my swords yet." As an answer to this, Murtagh held out Zar'roc and she could see in his eyes the curiosity of whether or not his younger brother could contend with her. She too was curious, Arya thought as she drew her blade, dulling it. Eragon did the same, after accepting Zar'roc from Murtagh with a nod. He looked apprehensive to fight, which only served to anger her. If he thought that being a woman was a disadvantage for her, she would correct his poor judgment.

They stood facing one another, their blades drawn to their sides. He blinked and she returned the gesture and within seconds, they charged, with blades raised. When her blade met Zar'roc, she was not surprised when a strong resistance met her strength. But what did surprise her was when he brought his foot up to meet her face. Jumping back slightly, she frowned. Running forward, she made a cut for his side, watching as he easily jumped over her blade, his body twisting in air as he righted himself meeting her blade as she aimed another swipe for him, watching when he landed easily on the ground.

Eragon's fighting style was unusual. She had never seen such a fight form like his before. Even though they fought with swords, he used his free hand or his feet to draw out her openings, bringing her onto the defense. Then there were times when she would ferociously charge him, only to have him dodge and jump out of the way. His control over such agile movements was exceptional. He would dance around her blade; never show her the same angle to attack from.

Time seemed to stand still for them as they fought, always dancing together, to let the flow of the moment push their bodies away. Eventually, she began to tire; even an elf could not continue fighting forever. Observing his languid movements and calm demeanor, frustration clouded her mind. How could Eragon, someone who had not eaten or rested well the previous night, continue fighting without his limbs tiring? Even when it was well over half an hour that they began sparring, his breathing was regular and his movements' fluid as if they had first begun. Arya pulled back, watching as Eragon ran forward, she stretched her arms, as if to cut her sword horizontally across his body.

He had anticipated the movement. With a fluid jump, he gripped her wrist as he flew into the air, his eyes leveled with hers. And as fast as he was there, he was gone, she heard him land lightly on the grass behind her. Swinging her sword to the side, she attempted to hide her frown when Eragon gripped her wrist, his strength holding her sword hand in place. She felt his other arm twist around her, Zar'roc meeting her throat, the cool blade resting there.

She froze at the close but intimate proximity; there was no space between their bodies as he held her there. She could feel his smooth breathing on the back of her neck. One emotion that she had thought she had grown out of came back to her, which raised the hair on the back of her head. A sudden nervousness. Arya felt it rise when she heard him murmur softly by her ear. "Dead."

**Now for some explaining to do. This chapter is not the confrontation between Oromis and Eragon. No, that would be the next chapter. For them to have a confrontation, I need them to both be alone and they will be. This probably isn't my best chapter, but I'll be perfecting my writing skills soon enough. Questions and suggestions are always welcome to me, so don't forget to review. And I hope you like the sparring, that won't be the only time they will be fighting one another. And I think I'm going to have Vanir introduced into the story a little earlier. I'm not sure how, but I shall be working on that. :) See you next chapter everyone, and I hope I won't be too late on updating it.**


	20. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 is finally up! I am so sorry for the overly long wait! (5 days!) I usually update much faster. But I was having what we writers hate . . . writers block! But I managed it, thank goodness! Now, I hope everyone shall enjoy this chapter because I nearly wrecked my brain thinking on how to write it. And Buddy is right, the part of the Eldunarí shall come up much sooner in my story but besides that I have a question for all of you at the end. (Oh, and to pacify you all, I am trying to write a Brom POV) R&R!**

Losing must not be a habit of hers, Eragon thought, somewhat amused. After the sparring match, Arya had adamantly refused to look at him in the eye. Eridor had found this amusing, as he had stared at his Rider with bright eyes, and a slight grin. Eragon hoped she would not take the blow to her pride too seriously. He would rather not have her upset with him. He turned away to gaze at the setting sun; night would fall shortly. Then he would be free of all this—this kindness. He felt as if he were being drowned by it. He had certainly not expected such a welcome from his new teacher, after having been received in such a manner by Islanzadí. With his already extensive understanding of magic, strategy, and other things besides, he wondered what knowledge Oromis could offer him.

Placing down his flagon, Oromis turned to stare at the sky. "It is late and you need to rest, for tomorrow shall be the start of your training." They all stood to leave, but Oromis motioned for Eragon to remain seated. "I would like to speak with you privately, Eragon."

That was it; he had been waiting for this moment to come. Arya, who seemed to have forgotten her previous chagrin, gave him a concerned look. Instead of mounting Saphira, she mounted Thorn. Eragon watched as the two dragons took flight, southward to the city of Ellesméra. "A beautiful sight."

He turned to find Oromis staring at him. It was unnerving. "Please, join me in my hut." Without saying a word, he followed his master. He took a seat in one of the chairs, sat beside a great wall of scrolls. Watching as Oromis lowered himself into a seat before him.

Many emotions passed through his mind, none of them rage. He felt no anger towards the elder Rider, not in the least. He had shown nothing but kindness to Eragon; something that most did not do. Only those who were close, and knew him well, showed kindness. Yet, the elf before him knew little of his nature, of his past, but had reached out to him. He was trying to help him. But the only problem with that was accepting help. He did not know how to depend on others, and often found that he would rather not. The only person you could truly depend on was yourself. Or so he had thought for many years.

"I know what you're thinking, Eragon." Whispered Oromis. "This receding nature that you show to kindness, goes deep into your mind and soul. It reveals the tortures you were subjected to."

"You don't understand," Eragon muttered, a pained expression on his face.

"I will admit that I do not, but know that I too had been a captive. I was submitted to tortures, but eventually broke free. Hope and the chance of freedom gave me the strength to do so. But I did not escape unscathed; I am a broken man, Eragon."

He stared at Oromis, truly, for the first time. Was he seeing empathy? "But you are not. You have the strength and health of a young elf. You are not sick and crippled." His mind flashed to Murtagh and his scarred back. "'Nor are you without friends and love." Saphira…and Arya. "Let them help you, let them heal you. Let me help you."

"They cannot." He felt angry as his voice grew bitter and saddened. The loss of control over his emotions angered him. "You cannot."

"You can never be certain, if you don't try." Oromis replied softly. "Even those not close to you, if you allow them, will help you."

"Help me?" said Eragon. "I am not like you. Who would want to help me? The Varden only uses me. The dwarves attacked me, and your people detained me. All I will ever be in your eyes is a traitor undeserving of trust."

"The world has not betrayed you, Eragon," Oromis spoke sadly. "In fact, it is the opposite. You have turned your back on everyone, and have isolated yourself. Reach out, and they will in turn accept your attempts, and reach out to you."

Eragon sat stunned by his words. Everything seemed to have stopped for him. Had he pushed away those who had tried to care for him? Given up on reaching out for help? The more Eragon thought of it, the more everything seemed to have fallen into place. His mother had so desperately wanted to help him, but he had pushed her attempts away. Saphira, his life partner, tried to keep him from drowning in his own sorrow, but it would only work if he grabbed hold of her for support. His servants, Rosalie, Bard, Desdemona and Finny, had all tried so hard, filling his life with laughter and joy, but he had ignored their attempts. You are not alone. Arya. "I don't know how," he miserably admitted.

He was confessing; he was accepting fate, the new direction his path had taken since he had left the Empire. The insecurities he thought he had long thrown away after taking on the identity of Gabranth. "I cannot tell you how Eragon. But I can tell you this, keep your loved ones close, for strength and bonds of family and friends can give even the weakest man power."

That was some advice, Eragon thought warily. But no matter, he would take it to heart. "Is that all you wanted to speak about?" he asked.

"Part of it was, but there are other things that I hope I can discuss with you as well. Concerning the relationship you have with your brother." He tensed, waiting for Oromis to continue. "Murtagh does not bear a strong hostility to you, Eragon. If it's not too personal a question for me to ask, why is it that you detest him so?"

"Detest?" Eragon blinked. Was he giving off the image of hating Murtagh that much? "I don't detest him. Envy would be more accurate."

"Ah, but in time envy can grow into hate."

"I know." Eragon admitted. "Even though it's not true; I've spent most of my life, nearly all of it, thinking that my mother had loved Murtagh enough to hide him away in Carvahall, and not me. Over sixteen years, I grew envious, and maybe I even hate him. But I have come to respect him since." Despite his foolish behavior, and persistent questions. "Emotions are not set in stone and if I get to know him better, perhaps it will come to change."

"Then will you give me your word that you will at least act civil in his company?"

"On my honor as a Rider."

"Good." He nodded and continued, this time with a sort of caution. "When we met, you did not appear surprised to learn that Glaedr and I were alive."

"I'm not," he said. "Galbatorix had always suspected there were one or more Riders hiding away Du Weldenvarden, a place beyond his reach. And he was right."

"I expected as much," said Oromis with a nod. "I would also ask of you how Galbatorix has seemingly increased his strength since the fall of the Riders. However, such a discussion must wait until you trust both I and Islanzadí enough to speak of it. Trust must beget trust, so I am sure we will not have long to wait."

"I agree."

"Then we both may look forward to such a time." He glanced outside the window to find that the sun had gone. The orange sky that had been splashed with spots of red, like a wildfire, had turned a pitch black. "I hope you will come to enjoy your stay here in Ellesméra."

He nodded. "The sunset here is the same as it was in Urû'baen, yet it is different, more beautiful." The smile Oromis gave him made him uneasy, but he tried his best to settle the feeling, though it refused to be beaten easily.

"That it is, but before you leave Eragon, there is one thing I would like to ask you. What is your interest in Arya?"

He froze. Interest in Arya? What had made him ask such a thing? Arya was his friend . . . but he was not sure she even thought of him as a friend. Maybe as a Rider, or an ally, but it was not something he had given much thought to, nor did he think she had either. Still slightly confused, he tried to answer Oromis. "I have no interest in Arya besides friendship." But even as the words left his lips, it felt wrong.

"I see. And Eragon, when you reach Ellesméra; Queen Islanzadí and I have come to an agreement to give you Vrael's tree. It is your inheritance, as the senior of the new Riders that have graced our forest."

Vrael's tree? He frowned; Islanzadí must have had a hard time agreeing with Oromis, she had given him a position of authority beyond Arya and Murtagh as Riders. To be given the tree of the leader of the Riders, he was nearly at a loss for words. "What can I say, master? Your decision honors me, thank you," he finally said, humbled. "But where will I find it?"

"Glaedr has shown Saphira its location. Go and rest, you've deserved it after your long journey, and encounter with my people." He nodded, and left the hut to find Saphira crouched on the ground waiting for him. Glaedr was curled up next to the hut, giving the impression that he was sleeping.

_He was right_, Saphira said as she flew towards Ellesméra. He grunted in response, knowing it was so. _Oh, don't go acting like a brute now! We just all want to help, but you are always pushing us away_.

_I do not need help, or at least, I have not before_, Eragon replied_. I have led my life without the need of any help. It is an odd concept, relying on someone else._

_ It is called trust, little one, something that you are going to have to learn to see in others from now on, _Saphira said. _And I'll be there to help you, Eragon._

He rubbed the scales on her neck with appreciation. _What do you think of Glaedr and Oromis?_

_Wise beyond measure_, came her answer. _And kind as well._

_Yes, they are at that_. Eragon thought, as he watched Saphira head straight to a tall thick tree. It appeared they were going to collide with the bark, but instead of hitting wood, they entered a large teardrop hole, and descended into a room. It was lavish. A bed sat in the center, and a dais not far off, where Saphira would sleep. A spiral staircase, which was sung from the wood of the tree, led to a study. Without thinking, he fell down onto the mattress, thankful for its comfort.

His back was unused to the soft feeling. Immediately, his muscles began to burn from having slept on a straight or hardened ground for some time. Saphira, who had curled up on her dais, surrounded his mind with her own, trying to block out his discomfort. It worked, for he found himself waking to birds trilling from outside his open teardrop window.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face, shaking sleep from his weary mind. The next course of action was a bath. Exploring the tree he was grateful to find a small room with what looked like a bath with taps, though how the elves created such a contraption, he would never know. To be rid of the grime and dirt made him feel immensely pleased, and he was able to rid himself of the growing stubble on his chin and cheeks.

Entering his bed chambers again, he was surprised to find a pair of clean clothes waiting for him. An elf must have delivered it before he woke. The tunic and breeches were made of the finest linen, and the boots were made of leather that would not wear away due to use. As he began lacing up his boots, a knock sounded on his screen door.

Who would want to visit him? "Enter." Arya walked in and in her hands were his blades.

"Good morning, Eragon, Saphira." He nodded at Arya while Saphira nudged her, having woken up when he was bathing. He returned to lacing up his boots. The sound of footsteps echoed in his ears as she walked towards the table to set the swords down upon it. "You look well rested today."

"I slept rather well," he agreed, as he stood. He glanced at his swords on the table, taking hold of one; he slid it halfway out of its sheath, studying the blade to see if it had been tampered with. Satisfied, he slid it back in.

"It was tested by one of our most experienced blacksmiths. She was rather impressed that both blades are alike in every way. Usually when something is forged by humans, there is a difference, whether it is big or small." He nodded. Strapping the sheath onto his belt.

"These swords belonged to a man who saved my life," Eragon explained. The revelation caught Arya off guard. "It was four years ago. When I was traveling to Gil'ead with Saphira, I was ambushed by a group of Urgals. I was about to be killed when he stepped in and he saved my life, but in the end, an Urgal rammed him through with his horn. So I thought that as a way to honor him for saving my life, I would fight with his swords."

He strapped the other one, on the opposite hip. "Though I did somewhat temper them with magic."

He said the last part guiltily. Shaking the thought from his mind, he returned his attentions to Arya. "So, do you sleep in a tree as well?"

"I do, though I cannot say that I'm overly surprised by the fact that you were given Vrael's tree, considering you are the most senior Rider, of the three of us." Arya spoke with a small hint of resentment. He narrowed his eyes at her, a smirk coming to his face. She must envy his position slightly. Being older than him, she may have believed he would not have been appointed Vrael's tree. "What?"

"I'm just thinking." She stared at him but made no comment. Then after a while, he claimed, "You fought excellently yesterday."

As he expected, the corners of her lips twitched downward and her brows slanted somewhat, as if she had remembered something unpleasant. His theory was correct; she was not used to losing. "You fought just as well, though your fighting style…"

"Is a little different?" he finished for her, earning a nod. "You could say that, I suppose. It has always occurred to me that even if you are fighting with a sword, it does not mean that you should solely fight with a sword, you know? A practiced warrior should use their entire body while fighting; and not just the weapon in their hand."

"It's a practice I'm well acquainted with, but not one I have ever encountered in a duel," Arya commented. She glanced outside at the sky. "It is time for us to meet Oromis."

_Then what are we waiting for?_ Mounting Saphira with Arya, they flew towards the crags of Tel'naeír, to find Eridor, Thorn, and Murtagh waiting for them. Beside them were Oromis and Glaedr. "Good morning." Oromis spoke, greeting the three.

"Good morning, Master," Arya and Eragon replied, and they were both somewhat stiff in their greeting. They then greeted Glaedr as well.

"Now the first thing I would like to know is the extent of your knowledge in the ancient language. Arya you need not participate, having been raised with the language. Eragon and Murtagh, I would like to see how much you know. Eragon first."

It was easy as he had used spells for a large part of his life in the Empire. He did not have trouble explaining to Oromis the vowel sounds in the ancient language, or many other grammatical rules. He was able to carry a conversation with his Master for over an hour. Murtagh on the other hand had a much more difficult time. At a certain point in the exchange, Murtagh commented, "I've never needed very many words in my spells; Brom said it was a gift that I could do so much with Brisingr. I think the most I ever said in the ancient language was when I blessed an orphan in Farthen Dûr."

This startled Eragon and Oromis. Murtagh had blessed a child? Arya, on the other hand, didn't seem fazed by the news. "Do you remember how you worded the blessing for this child?" Oromis asked, suddenly alert.

"Aye."

"Recite it for me." Murtagh did and he felt his expression harden, while looks of pure horror engulfed Oromis and Arya at hearing Murtagh's word choices. The fool! "You used skölir! Are you sure it wasn't sköliro?"

Murtagh frowned. "No, skölir. Why shouldn't I have used it? It means shielded. '…and may you be shielded from misfortune.' It was a good blessing."

"That was no blessing, but a curse," Oromis corrected. 'The suffix o forms the past tense of verb endings with r and i. Sköliro means shielded, but skölir means shield. Instead of protecting the orphan from misfortune, she has now become a shield for it, condemning her to be a sacrifice for others, absorbing their misery and suffering so that they might live in peace!"

"It is not so—"

"It is," said Oromis, saddened. Eragon was gratified as Murtagh seemed to shake with shame and guilt.

"I'm not sure if it will undo my mistake, but Thorn had marked the orphan on the brow, just like he had marked my hand."

This seemed to have dumbstruck Oromis. "One who bears the sign of the Riders, and yet is not a Rider. In all my years, I've never met anyone such as the two of you. Your decisions seem to cause an impact beyond what anyone could anticipate."

Eragon found it hard not to slap Murtagh at the moment. Arya, who had seemed tensed by the revelation of information, had grown unusually still, deep in thought. He was boiling with rage. The fool! What did he think he was doing giving a blessing when his vocabulary in the ancient language was limited to the point that he could hardly carry a conversation? And now, he had condemned an innocent child to a horrible fate, causing the orphan to suffer unnecessary pain. And what was worse was the fact that the child resided within the Varden, where battles, assassinations, and pain was a large part of life. Would she be alive before she turned one, he wondered? He took back what he said about Murtagh last night, as the respect he thought he had for his older brother was brutally crushed to pieces. Until he righted his wrong, he could not forgive him. And if he did not, then he would be forced to amend the situation himself.

**So, what did you all think? Review time! Anyways, for my question, lemons, who likes them and who don't? I plan on writing a few, but I would like some uptake on it. Opinions are always welcome! But besides that, I shall have the next chapter up shortly, the Brom POV will be right behind that one hopefully. See you in a little while!**


	21. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

**Alright, I hope you guys didn't have to wait long for this update! I'm trying to return to my normal speed but it's been iffy. (Four days now!) But I am so sorry if the last one had any spelling errors, I'll try to fix them as soon as I can but I hope this one doesn't have as much. I hope you all like this chapter, I liked writing it. Moving on, the Brom POV shall be updated after this chapter and so will the bonus. My god, I am so proud of my story and how much you all like it. But any questions or thoughts please, review, I love to clear a point up. :) R&R!**

Back in his bedroom in the tree, Eragon fought to stay in control of his anger as he found a tray of food waiting for him. Carrying his tray back to the bed that had been remade with fresh linens, he felt grateful for the fact that there was something hot that could warm his cold stomach. He hadn't been expecting that revelation from Murtagh. Propping himself against his pillow, Eragon was about to start eating his soup when there came a gentle rapping at the opening of his chamber. "Enter," he said warily, afraid of who might come in.

But it was only Arya. _Who else would come to visit him? _It had been but moments since he had seen her after their training from Oromis. Eragon was a little sore having trained in the second Rigmar pose, while Arya had been rather fluid until she had to try the fourth pose. She wore the same soft green tunic from the morning with a girdle adorning her waist and her hair free from her usual headband. Her posture was relaxed; she seemed to be finally at ease.

"Is something amiss?" Eragon asked, his curiosity piqued by her appearance — not that he found her presence a burden; it was rather pleasant. She shook her head and moved to sit down at the edge of his bed.

Touching her first two fingers to her lips, she said, "Do you intend to stay indoors this evening?"

"Unless you have something different in mind," said Eragon, taking a sip of his soup. The hot liquid ran down his throat and settled comfortably in his stomach. He held an apple out to her and just like last time, she took hold of it, eating with him.

"I do," said Arya, glancing up briefly just to see Eridor glide in through the teardrop window. "You've been in Ellesméra for three days now and you have seen nothing of our city. After you eat, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, set aside your indifference to my people and accompany me." She took a bite of the apple.

"For a princess who doesn't speak of her position to others, you do give out a lot of orders," said Eragon with a smirk. She said nothing, the only reaction that showed that she had heard him was her lips twitching upwards. It didn't take long for him to finish eating, not with Saphira breathing down his back as she wanted to see Ellesméra with Eridor. When he was done, Arya had gotten to her feet and took hold of one of his swords from where it lay by his side. The other he strapped to his waist.

Following her down the stairs that was grown out of the tree, Eragon felt blinded when he walked out into the evening sunlight. Saphira and Eridor had launched themselves from the teardrop window and the rays of their shining scales bounced across his face like his own personal rainbow, the only color missing being red. But Eragon knew that Murtagh must want to be left alone at the moment.

They walked under the trees, the rays of the ever-setting sun penetrating through the thick branches in spots. Here and there, he would glimpse an elf working on projects, pursuing studies with magic. He couldn't imagine himself living in a forest, just studying magic and learning the ways of the plants and trees, of art and the beauty of nature and life within living things. "It seems that there is very little for elves to strive for that is not granted by your strength with magic," said Eragon.

Arya nodded. "We spend our days learning to master what is of interest to us, which isn't much, considering the fact that my race is a long and ancient race, in which questions are constantly answered and new knowledge continually gained."

They turned into a tunnel made of dogwood draped with creepers that eventually led to a closed atrium where a house was grown around a ring of trees. An open-walled hut occupied the center of the atrium where a forge was sheltered along with an assortment of instruments. An elf woman had a pair of small tongs in a nest of molten coals, working bellows with her right hand. With uncanny speed she pulled it out and looped the ring through an edge of an incomplete mail corselet that hung over an anvil, grabbing a hammer she welded it shut.

To say he was impressed was an understatement. She was very experienced, he could tell, as Arya approached her. The elven princess greeted the elf woman first, to Eragon's surprise, as Arya clearly respected whoever she was very much. When she turned to face them he saw the greatest display of age in an elf he had come across. He felt himself smile faintly when she didn't respond. A rude elf — that was a first.

"Rhunön-elda, I've brought to you one of the newest Riders of the Varden, Eragon Shadeslayer."

"I heard you were dead," said Rhunön to Arya. Unlike the smooth music and velvet of most elves, her voice guttered and rasped.

Instead of looking insulted, Arya merely smiled. She must have had experience in dealing with Rhunön. "When did you last leave your house, Rhunön?"

"You should know, it was the mid-summer festival you forced me to attend."

"That was three years ago." As they talked, Eragon went to study the mail corselet, every single ring was welded with precision. Armor like this was hard to come by in the Empire and the Varden. Blacksmiths never took the time to weld every single ring, but considering the fact that she was an elf, time must matter little to her. Reaching out, he lifted the end of one part of the corselet, letting his finger run over the smooth metal rings. But as soon as he touched them, a hammer came swinging down onto his finger and he grunted in pain. "Never touch another's work!" Rhunön snapped, lifting the hammer. He glanced down at his three bleeding and possibly broken fingers and then turned to glare at the elf woman.

"Couldn't you tell me that, instead breaking my fingers?" said Eragon hotly. She placed her hammer down in a brusque manner. Saphira, who was usually very defensive, simply stared at the scene, amused. "It doesn't take much to say a few words!"

"Actions are burned into the mind, words are forgotten," replied Rhunön. He glared.

"Violent elf woman," he muttered, having no doubt that she had heard it. But instead of taking offense, she laughed a crackling laugh.

"A rude one, you are. Just like your father, Brom," said Rhunön, "He had come in here one day demanding I replace his sword, and was so angered at my refusal — for I had taken oath that I shall not forge another such weapon — that Oromis had to sedate him before he would leave." She glanced at his broken fingers. "I apologize for them."

He snorted but went to fixing the bones and mending the skin. Rhunön on the meanwhile had walked past him to Saphira and Eridor, examining their scales. "A beautiful color, very beautiful indeed. Not the mucky brown. Yes, the swords would have been very beautiful—" she stopped and scowled before returning to her work. The thought of it must have taken a great deal of energy from her.

Despite the fact that she had smashed his fingers, Eragon didn't feel the need to leave on such a saddened note. "If Galbatorix were to die, you can have all of your swords back." Rhunön looked at him, surprised, her mouth slightly opened. "He kept most of them, in a treasury. As trophies, you see."

"Did he?"

"Yes, when the time comes that Galbatorix is killed — which I have no doubt shall be soon — the swords you have forged shall be returned to their master." She didn't say anything but nodded and with a new energy returned to work. He felt a small hand enclose his wrist, gently tugging him from the forge.

"Rhunön-elda, I shall return for you on the eve of the Agaetí-Blödhren." A grunt was her reply.

_Is she always so brusque? _asked Saphira.

Arya laughed. "Always. Nothing matters to her except for her craft. She is infamous with the habit of being impatient with anything or person that interferes with it. But she is tolerable because of her incredible skills and accomplishments."

"She doesn't like to leave her forge often, does she?" Eragon asked dryly, stretching his fingers to test the bones. Arya shook her head.

"Rarely. I am more surprised that she had even heard of my death than that she still considered me so," said Arya, as she led him deeper into the forest. He nodded, letting his mind drift back to the last words she said to the smith.

"What exactly is the _Blood-oath celebration_?" asked Eragon.

"A celebration held every hundred years to honor the pact that we've made with the dragons. Both of you are fortunate to be here now, for it is nigh upon us . . ." her eyebrows met as she frowned. "Though coincidence, I don't think it is."

"There is nothing called coincidence, there is only fate," said Eragon, recalling a wise quote that he had read in one of the many books at his castle.

"A statement that can be called true and sometimes be a farce," said Arya, leading him to a clearing where a lone pine tree stood. It was no taller than the rest but much wider in comparison. A blanket of roots covered the ground like veins, making the forest look like an extension of the tree, as if it were the heart of Du Weldenvarden. The energy flowing from it was enough proof to tell him that it was a powerful entity within the forest and that it was not just a tree.

"Behold the Menoa tree," whispered Arya. "We observe the Agaetí Blödhren in her shade."

_Menoa. . ._Solembum's advice. If he were ever in need of a weapon, he would find it underneath the tree. But how? And if possible, would the elves let him dig underneath the roots? Would the tree even allow such an act? Walking forward, he reached out to touch the roots. They were thick enough to hold even Saphira in place, no doubt.

_ Do you see anything? _he asked Saphira.

_No, but I don't doubt the fact that something of use to us could be hidden beneath all of this wood, s_aid Saphira. _But we aren't in need of a weapon yet. Not until your swords are smashed to the point of no repair, if that time does in fact come._

"You seem very interested with the Menoa tree," observed Arya, coming to his side when he squatted on the ground, studying the heavy roots.

Not feeling the need to hide it from her, he told her about the werecat's advice. She listened intently, her hand also reaching out to stroke the roots, a gentle caress much akin to a lover or a close friend. "A werecat's counsel should never be ignored for they rarely offer any. So far as I know, there is no weapon beneath the roots of the Menoa tree, whether in myth or legends. As for the Rock of Kuthian, the name is familiar to me, but I cannot remember where it is that I've heard it."

That wasn't any help at all, Eragon thought. But what had he expected? Arya didn't know everything. She wasn't the strongest nor the wisest elf. But asking for help from her didn't seem wrong. "Weapon," said Eragon. "Doesn't necessarily mean weapon. It could be anything. A sword, a lance, a piece of hard rock that could pierce anything. Or something that could have the potential of a weapon, the potential to make a weapon. A certain type of ore that fell from the heavens or steel that came from the center of the earth." He sighed standing. "But I guess we'll never be able to find out until the time comes to search for it."

"Though I doubt you will find the need to," said Arya, studying the sword she had carried. "Rhunön had said that it would take much more than Urgal and human weapons to break the metal."

"I'm glad." He turned his attention back to the tree, walking gracefully from root to root until he reached the tall pine tree. Arya moved swiftly by his side between light and shadow. Sometimes her appearance would be cast in glows from lanterns far off or swallowed by darkness, though in both she looked beautiful. "It's an intelligent tree."

"That she is." _She. _So the tree was a woman. "Shall I tell you the story of the Menoa tree?"

"If it wouldn't be too tiring for you," said Eragon, taking a seat on a root that crested the tree, lifting them twelve feet off the ground. She shot him a strange look before sitting beside him.

A flash of white caught his eyes and Blagden, the white raven, appeared beside Saphira, uttering his usual cry of "Wyrda!" The raven picked a good time to come by and eavesdrop, Eragon thought warily.

"The story began with a woman by the name of Linnea, in the years of spice and wine before our war with the dragons and before we became immortal. Linnea had grown old without the comfort of a mate or children, devoting herself to the art of singing to plants, in which she was a master. But with your life's greatest passion before you, what need do you have to take on a mate and foster children? But that was before she met a young man who beguiled her with words of love. His affections woke a part of Linnea that she had never suspected could exist, a craving for what she had given up, a desire to experience what she unknowingly sacrificed. It was a second chance. A chance too great to ignore. She deserted her work and devoted herself to the young man and, for a time, they were happy."

_But. . . _Eragon thought, having an inkling of how the story was going to turn out.

"But the young man was young, and he began to long for someone closer to his age. His eyes fell upon a young woman, and he wooed and won her. And for a time, they too were happy."

_And it doesn't end there, _Eragon thought warily.

"When Linnea discovered that she had been spurned, scorned, and abandoned, she went mad with grief. The young man had done the worst thing possible; he had given her a taste of the fullness of life, and then torn it away with not much of a mere thought. She found him with the woman and in her grief and fury, stabbed him to death."

"She knew what she done was evil. She also knew that even if she was exonerated of murder she could not return to what was her previous life before the young man. No, for life had lost all joy for her. Instead, she went to the oldest tree in Du Weldenvarden, pressed herself against it and sang herself into the tree, abandoning every string attached to her own race. For three days and three nights, she sang, and when she finished, she had become one with her beloved plants. And through all the millennia since has kept watch over the forest. Thus was the Menoa tree created."

Eragon bounced his heels against the root of the tree, deep in thought. More evidence that becoming close to others was only a curse, a burden. It would be so easy, Eragon thought, to live alone away from such temptations. Away from the pain and hurt that came with love. But when founded it was hard to let go.

"Once happiness is lost," said Eragon quietly, "it might never return."

Arya nodded. Then she turned to him. "Do you think the young man was to blame for the tragedy?"

"They were both at fault," Eragon said. There was nothing to it.

Arya stared at him with her piercing green eyes, and he met her stare, not backing down. "They weren't suited for each other."

"There are many conclusions you could come up with," said Eragon. "But the only one that would ever make sense is that love can blind even the strongest person. The desire to be loved . . . can make anyone go to such lengths."

She raised a brow at him inquiringly. "Love." He said the word with distaste. "It's safer to live life alone, away from its grips. But then again, there are people who have loved and lived till the end of time in love." Even though he didn't like love, the thought of Angela's prophecy loomed in his mind. His eyes darted to Arya's form next to him. He sighed. "Being home seems to agree with you." Eragon didn't feel the need to particularly linger on such a subject for long.

"It does." She fingered the pommel of his sword. The silver gleaming in the moonlight.

"Where did you use to live before the tree was given to you? A castle or a hall?"

"Tialdari Hall will always be my home; I often visit it in the western part of Ellesméra. I would enjoy showing our home to you." _Home. _Another sore subject, everyone had a home but he didn't particularly have one to return to anymore. Murtagh had Carvahall and Arya had Ellesméra. Urû'baen wasn't what he would call his home. Not really.

Speaking of family, Eragon asked Arya, "Do you have any siblings?" she shook her head. "Then you're the sole heir to the elven throne?"

"Of course, why do you ask?" She sounded bemused by his curiosity.

Eragon shrugged. "I was just wondering." If Arya were to die in battle, in her line of duty, he was sure that another successor or a different house would be chosen to become the next successor of the elven throne. He studied Arya for a moment. He had no doubt in his mind that if forced to lead, she would be a capable leader of her people. But would she be willing to? For a reason, he couldn't see her devoting herself to her people. But then that tattoo on her back he remembered seeing when he healed her . . . it must have meant something. But he didn't feel the need to ask her.

"Will you answer a question of mine?"

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever it was that she wanted to ask him. It was long in coming, but he was patient. Finally, she said quietly, "Back then in Gil'ead, why do you save Murtagh and I?"

He stared at her and knew immediately that she was frustrated by his lack of answer to some of her questions. And this one was a question that she had frequently asked him, when he met her in Gil'ead and then in turn, the Varden. It must have bothered her greatly that he couldn't give her an answer. But did he have an answer for her? "Maybe," said Eragon finally. "Maybe, I just didn't want to see another person forced to live the way I did." He smiled at her, somewhat apologetic. "It's not an answer you're wishing for, but when the time comes that I can think of it more, then I shall tell you. But for now, I hope this is enough."

"It is," came Arya's whisper.

High above them, Blagden, who had sat quiet throughout the entire conversation let out a shriek that pierced the night. "Wyrda!"

**Now, I am really sorry for the Linnea part, I tried to rephrase it so it doesn't look like I'm taking it from the book but I was just too hard! But that would be one of the only times I ever refer to the book now on. I hope you all enjoyed it, this chapter was mainly on Eragon and Arya, and their ever blossoming relationship. Moving on, I wasn't thinking on writing a Murtagh POV anytime soon, but there are some readers who find me making him an unimportant character and now that I think about it, I probably did. So, besides the Brom POV up next and the bonus chapter, do you guys all think a Murtagh POV would be good? Maybe when he meets Vanir? Please review or message me, either way is fine and tell me what you all think!**


	22. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

**Finally! I am so sorry for the long wait everyone! But this chapter had me on edge. It was by far the most challenging one I've written. I often had to restart and try again. I hope this try was good. This is my first Brom POV, so tell me your opinions so I can work on the later ones. And the bonus chapter shall be up after this one real soon. (Hopefully). But despite the challenge it proved to be a rather great experience. Anyways R&R!**

The day was still young and there was plenty to do within the mass organization named the Varden. Reaching the capital of Surda, Aberon, was the least of his worries. They were on the brink of starvation and people amongst them were beginning to fight and steal from one another. To say it in one word, it was chaos on the brink of disaster. But not only that, power hungry fools were reaching out with their claws trying to disturb Nasuada's leadership. And one of them was the young, and in many eyes, handsome, King Orrin. From what he had heard from Nasuada, the man felt outdone. Each race held the reigns of a Rider within their grasp and he had lost the opportunity to seize control of that factor. Shifting his weight to his right foot, Brom stared at the battalion before him. It was a rank of over a hundred men, with no experience in the areas of fighting. And they were all assigned to him.

Ever since Nasuada's elected position, she had made sure that he, Brom, was on her council of advisors. He wouldn't consider himself under her, but all the same, with Eragon beneath her as a vassal, he had no other choice but to consider her power as well. She held the power in his son's actions. _His son. _Brom had never considered, never gave thought to the idea of having a child, no less a son who was a Rider. It gave him a new light of respect seeing how Eragon was also one of the few who have ever killed a shade and come back alive. But the idea had brought him a great deal of grief. He had missed out on being father to his son for sixteen years. He should have tried harder, looked farther. It was a pitiful train of thought. But this wasn't the time or place to wallow in remorse. No, there were things that needed to be done.

"You were all chosen to be trained by me, and I shall tell you now that I will not tolerate foolishness," said Brom, his voice gruff. "One of the few things that I shall ever teach you is discipline."

And he could see the excitement in their eyes, ready for whatever task he put them to. He smirked. If only they knew what he had in mind. Within the next two hours, he had the hundred men running laps in a circle one hundred feet in length and fifty feet in width. Endurance was a key to fighting, as well as stamina. If one were to drop tired during a battle, death would be their only companion. "Err—Sir Brom," said Bard rubbing the back of his head as he watched the extensive training. "I don't think they can take anymore."

Nasuada had also lent the aid of Eragon's servants to help with the training and he had to admit they all had their special qualities, though their cheerful disposition constantly had him cautious. "No, I want to see how long they can go without complaint," said Brom. Following orders is always the first nature a soldier should have. After another half hour, he was satisfied that not one soldier had complained throughout the entire ordeal. They weren't half bad. He watched as they laid, sat or stood hunched over on the ground, panting and sweating. "That was good, better than I expected from any of you. Go home and rest, tomorrow, we'll be doing the same until you all can run for at least an hour without tiring."

"I can see where his Lordship gets it from now," muttered Desdemona. Brom frowned. He had known when he had met the four of them that they had been hired to protect Selena from danger. But there was always a little jealousy at the thought that they had known his son for longer than he had.

Life, he thought, wasn't always fair. Dismissing them, Brom made his way back inside the Aberon Castle that overlooked the busy city of Aberon where the streets were crowded. Not far off from the city was the Varden camp. His room was not far from Nasuada's so that if there was ever an emergency, she could easily call for him. Opening the door to his room, he found the very person that had changed him. Selena was sitting on the bed reading a thick book, her brown hair falling in front of her face. It was a beautiful sight and it made his heart ache. "I see you're back from training," said Selena with a smile.

He nodded. "There isn't much to do save watching them at the moment." He lowered himself to sit beside her. "How are you feeling?"

"Perfect," came her reply, making him smile. He had never felt happier than with Selena; she knew how to wash away his ease and worry with a simple phrase and a sweet smile. The reason he was worried about her? Eragon wasn't the last child that she was going to give birth to. He could remember it as clear as day. It was after a day when Eragon and Murtagh left with Arya and Orik for Ellesméra, Angela, though she did have her eccentric ways, had found that Selena was indeed pregnant. And had been for nearly a week.

The joy he had felt, to know that he was going to have another child. The sorrow he felt, when he realized that this was the first time he could experience such joys, another reminder of what he had missed much during his stay in Carvahall. To say that he was excited was an understatement; he couldn't wait for the months to pass until their child was born. But how would Eragon react when he found out? Disappointed? Surprised? Angry? The one thing Brom didn't want Eragon to think was that he was replacing his elder son. There was a knock on the door and in walked Desdemona with a tray of food.

"Lunch, Lady Selena." She said with a smile that looked rather odd on her beautiful yet haughty face. There was more than usual, enough to feed a grown person and a child.

"You've all been spoiling me too much," said Selena, folding the page she was on before closing the book.

"Not so, his lordship has warned us to make sure you were properly fed or he'll make sure we rue the day we were born." The way she said it with such ease made his jealousy grow along with his own self-loathing. But Brom was curious as to how such people came to work underneath Eragon. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm fine," replied Selena, leaning forward to take a look at the food. It appeared, he thought, delicious, but he had a little feeling that she would not want him eating off of her plate. It was beef shimmered in a spicy sauce with rice off the side, beans and corn to the side. "Did Bard cook this?"

"He can be a rather competent chef when he isn't fooling around," Desdemona said with a nod. "Eat up, Lady Selena; I'll be back with dinner later on." With one last smile, she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

As Selena took up her fork to eat, he tried not to let the fact bother him that everyone seemed to know his son better than he did. It had been eating away at him ever since he watched Eragon leave without so much a word to him. It hurt but it didn't hurt like it did when he first found Selena again and that she had revealed to him that he had a sixteen year old son who was a rider. _Saphira._ He didn't know whether or not the naming of the sapphire dragon was a coincidence or something more. "You seem deep in thought."

He turned to stare at Selena, who was busy chewing a piece. "Eragon . . ."

He didn't have to finish for her eyes flashed in understanding. She lowered her fork. "Brom, I'm not going to lie to you. Eragon has been through a lot. You'll need to give him time, maybe while he's off in Ellesméra; he can learn to adapt to breathing the fresh air more freely without trying to strangle himself with responsibilities."

"I feel ashamed," murmured Brom. "I don't even know my son. And my only excuse sounds pathetic, even to my own ears." _I know Morzan's son much better than Eragon._

"It's the past, Brom," said Selena, "Right now, we should focus on the present. When he comes back, don't avoid him." She smiled in understanding, reaching out to rub his forearm comfortingly.

"Can you tell me about his childhood?" asked Brom. Selena smiled. Ever since he had learned of Eragon, he had repeatedly asked to listen to his son's childhood, but he never tired of it.

"Eragon was a sweet child, much sweeter than you," she said, "Though he was always lonely. He never went out to play with the other children his age. I've always wondered why that was, but it wasn't until he was older when I realized that he wanted to be with me. Whether it was out of love for his mother or the thought that I might disappear when I left his sight, I shall probably never know. Maybe I'll ask him one day, when everything settles down. He loved you with all of his heart." Her eyes flickered to him and he felt his heart clench at the sound of something new. Something he had yet to hear. "Ever since he was old enough to understand a small part of the world, he had always questioned who his father was. Where his father was. The only image of you he had was a fairth that I'd made long ago. Eragon loved you dearly. He longed for the father that he never had and had wished that one day you would show up and love him just as much as he loved you. I told him all types of stories about you and in his eyes, he saw his father as a hero."

"But somehow, it all changed. The affection he felt for you was cast aside when he was only seven. He didn't ask about you anymore and he tucked the fairth of you away. That was when he started to change. It was small but in time, it grew. When he was twelve and Saphira hatched for him, his entire nature became different. And Gabranth was born. I've never questioned why he had thrown away his name, but I was sure a small part of him had wanted to retain some semblance of his identity which led him to name his dragon Saphira. The dragon his father had lost."

"He was kindhearted; he took Desdemona and the rest in for his own purposes but in the end, I'm sure that he cares for them more than a lord for his servants. And they certainly do like to indulge him. Always making sure he ate and slept well." She smiled.

Brom nodded and said quite dryly, "I think Rosalie and Desdemona have that down to the point. They seem to adore him."

"You could say that," said Selena, returning to her lunch and the story. "The people admired Gabranth. He did many things within the Empire, always traveling about to the large cities and helping to put down corrupt rulers and crimes. In a way, you could say that he was almost a shadow of what a king should do. Everyone went to ask him for advice and for aid on their troubles. Though no one knew who his real identity was, I would gamble that many females were infuriated with the thought of a handsome, princely man behind his helm."

"He does look the part." Brom said, the thought of Eragon's refined elven features reappearing in his mind. "Has he ever been with a woman — ?"

"Good lord no," said Selena, surprised and somewhat amused at the question. "And I'm sure Desdemona and Rosalie will make sure that none of the female race would ever get close enough to try."

"Hmm." There was Arya, the only other female besides Rosalie, Desdemona, and Selena whose fate would also be closely intertwined with Eragon's. He felt somewhat uneasy at the thought of his son being so close to Arya. But who was he to have the right to voice an opinion of such a union? "You should eat up. The baby can't feed itself."

"Yes, sir." With that she resumed eating. He smiled; part of his world was setting itself in place, but there was another large part that he needed to fix that he needed to find a way to heal. When she was done, he left to explore the castle somewhat. He found it odd how much the King of Surda loved his science.

As he let his feet carry him to any destination, he thought. The idea of thinking wasn't foreign to him. He had thought on many occasions. Thinking was the key to success. The key to brilliant plans and the origins of intelligent minds. But there were some things that logic couldn't fix, like the elves always thought. No, emotions couldn't be fix with logic. For the past sixteen years, he had tried to live life raising Murtagh to be a man Selena would be proud of, someone unlike his father. And for those sixteen years, he had grown fond of the man he had come to be, almost caring for him as if he were his own son, watching out for his every move.

But all of that time, he had a son who had wished to see him dearly, who had wanted his father. And he had neglected that fact and continued life watching over the son of his enemy. The man who had betrayed his trust and loyalty, who had betrayed the Riders. He had never regretted taking care of Murtagh, but he regretted deeply that he couldn't care and love Eragon. _If you want everything, you'll end up with nothing, h_e thought. But was that really greed? To want to see two boys grow up happy? But the 'if' question was that, if given the chance to do it all over again, who would he look over? Murtagh or Eragon?

"Ah, and here is the teacher of one of our recent Riders and father of the other." A voice said. He turned to find Angela walking towards him as eccentric and odd as ever. "I hope your fortune has gotten better since we've last met."

"It has in some ways."

"Wonderful." Despite her cheerful disposition, she seemed on edge. "But as you are thinking, I didn't come here to speak of pleasantries with you, Brom."

"I see. Then what is it that you've come to see me for?"

"A deed that your charge has caused."

"My charge?" he frowned. "Has Murtagh done something?"

"Done something?" Her expression became dark. "It's more complicated than that. Come." She led him down the corridor of the large castle that seemed to be swathed in glass. It was convenient that it was evening for with the sun high in the sky, he was positive that the heat would've made their travels much harder to accomplish. "Sometimes, I wonder whether it was your teaching or Murtagh's bone-headedness, though it could be both."

The came to a door recessed in the inner wall of the corridor with gifts surrounding it on the floor. Opening the door, he followed her, in the center of the room was a small child eating a platter of food at her lap. Rosalie sat beside her with Solembum curled comfortably in her lap. What was it that Angela wanted him to see? A child eating?

But the presence of a cold mind, an odd existence, touched his thoughts. Was it possible that it was the child that was giving off such a mind? But how? As if knowing what he was thinking the little girl looked up, revealing a dragon mark bright upon her brow and violet eyes. Her lips quirked into a smile, a smile that chilled his bone for he knew it did not belong to that of a child.

"I've been waiting to meet you for a long time."

It took almost an effort for him not to grab his sword; the sound of an adult's voice coming from a child chilled him to the bone. He had no doubt that she knew what suffering was. "Who are you?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm Elva." She turned to Rosalie. "More food." He was somewhat surprised that the she actually rose to her feet without objection and left the room with the grace that lied in her walk. Elva then patted the floor beside her. "Please sit."

He slowly lowered himself to the floor. He stared at her and felt a magic driving deep into his consciousness tearing at his thoughts, at his memories. He fought the strong urge to recoil, when she reached out to grip his hands softly. "Remorse and guilt isn't a way of living. It's only a way to die. Time will eventually heal all wounds; your son will understand when he returns from Ellesméra. The person who loves you will help you and there will be others to help close this bridge between father and son."

He stared at her. She knew everything, all of his fears, the very things that weighed heavily on his soul. Elva had addressed them all, and had given him a small semblance of peace, knowing that whatever father-son relationship he had with Eragon wasn't useless.

But he didn't let it sway him. Elva was dangerous. She knew, for whatever reason, his fears. And if she did, he was sure she could discern the fears of others, bend them to her will and manipulate them. He didn't trust the child before him who seemed an adult in many ways than one. "What are you?" he asked again.

"I am what your student, Murtagh, made me."

That was right, Brom thought. Murtagh had blessed a child. But was this a blessing? "He blessed you."

"He didn't know what he was doing back then. The lack of education and knowledge had turned my blessing into a curse. It was much worse when I was smaller for there was nothing I could do about it then."

"About what?"

"Their pain. Every time I see a person, I feel the pain that is beset upon them and the pain that will be beset upon them. The magic in my blood drives me to protect people . . . to sacrifice myself for them. No matter the consequences of whether I want to or not." Her smile twisted bitterly. "It costs me dearly when I resist the urge to do so."

Sympathy filled him. A child bound by magic to suffer. "Why have you told me this?"

"Since you are Murtagh's teacher -" her violet eyes pierced him, "or former teacher, rather — I thought you might know how to fix his wrong and undo his curse from me."

He frowned. He was old with age even though he didn't seem older than most men. The magic required to undo her curse was something that was out of his reach. "I'm afraid that I'm unable to help you, Elva. I don't possess the amount of magic that Murtagh does."

Her eyes became obscured for a moment and she blinked nodding. "I'm sure that when Murtagh returns, he will right his wrong. If not then, Eragon might -" He stopped. Did he have the right to even suggest whether his son might lend his help? Just then Rosalie returned with a new platter of food.

"Eat up, Elva." She said gently, placing the food before the girl. With ravenous intensity she tore at the food, bending her head over the platter, hiding her violet eyes. When it was apparent that she was going to talk no more, Brom accompanied the herbalist to a separate room. Angela made sure that the door was close before she spoke.

"That was what I wanted you to see, Brom," she said with a sigh. "Nasuada was here earlier today and she agreed to feed Elva as much as she could afford to. I've agreed to watch after the young girl, but not for the next century. This _has_ to be fixed."

He nodded, that much was apparent. "Is she dangerous?"

"More or less," said Angela with a shrug. "But you've seen it and you've heard it. The person that she's most likely to kill is herself. The compulsion to protect others from misery drives her to near insanity."

"And how far can she foretell events?"

"Two or three hours at the most."

"And you're taking her under your wing?"

"That's what I've been asked and I shall try to keep up with it as much as I can." She said. "It is a good thing that Eragon's servants have agreed to lend me another eye. They're trying their best to watch out for Elva."

"But why can't they heal her? I'm sure that, besides Finny, they are capable of that magic." Brom said, more to himself than Angela.

"I've asked," said Angela. "They don't know how to go about doing so and for them to do so, they need to know the incantation that was first beset upon her." He nodded. "So, what are _you _going to do about this? Rosalie and the rest are trying to concoct potions and remedies to elevate the pain."

He frowned, thinking about the hundred troops placed under his wing. Training was going to have to take another intensity. "I'll make sure that not too many people die."

"Good . . . because when I'm done with your former student, we are going to need the extra numbers to replace such a blockhead."

**What did you all think? Good, alright, bad? Please review and tell me, I'm dying. But I'll try to post the bonus chapter tomorrow and the next chapter in a few days (4 hopefully). It's been a hard chapter but opinions are always welcomed. And I hope that you've all enjoyed the Brom POV. See you next chapter!**


	23. Bard

Bard

**Alright now the bonus chapters are up! (And I have to remind you that they are shorter than most but depending on how the story turns out they may become longer.) Anyways the next chapter will be up shortly. I've been awfully busy with a lab report that I need to finish and check over to perfection. But otherwise I will try to posting as often as I can, I promise. I want to finish this story and I want you all to read it :) But besides that have fun reading and while you do, I shall be having fun thinking of the next few chapters. Next goal is 400! And after that I shall have to find another bonus chapter to write about.**

This was a ferocious battle, he thought. What to do? He stared at the large slab of meat before him with an array of expensive spices and herbs surrounding it. Today was his lordship's fifteenth birthday and the task of making dinner was placed in his hands. If he didn't make delicacies for his lordship, Desdemona and Rosalie will have his hide. And when those two women worked together, the result was frightening. He sighed, staring at the ingredients before him again. It was hard to get used to this sense of peace . . . he had always ended up becoming nervous and adrenaline would pulse through his veins and without meaning to, his magic would always result in the food being destroyed. It wasn't long ago that he had served in the Royal Army.

_The Royal Army had up to sixteen thousand soldiers when brought together. It was split into battalions with lieutenants heading each and beneath them a trusted major. Lieutenant Randall led his battalion and Bard was his trusted major general. Randall was a man in his middle age, his hair somewhat graying in between his brown hair. And Bard looked up to him. Though at the moment they were at a standstill about a strategy. A higher power had ordered their battalion to move towards a mountain pass that led to Dras-Leona. There had been sightings of numerous Varden members, no doubt going on a raid._

"_I'm telling you, it's an ambush!" said Bard, pounding his fist furiously on the table that held a laid out map before them. "They're not camping at the northern end like reports said. They're hiding out in the mountains!"_

"_Nonsense!" said Lieutenant Randall. "A scout that ran ahead had informed us of their positions. We'll charge them now, giving us the element of surprise. It would be enough to overcome their forces."_

"_But sir, I don't think that you—"_

"_Exactly, you don't think because that's what I'm here for, major general Bard," said Lieutenant Randall crossly. "I want you all to stand ready in an half an hour. And if you don't feel you need to come, Bard, stay and I'll have you punished for insubordination once we make it to Dras-Leona."_

_He scowled but refused to say anything. Shifting his silver mail corselet on his shoulders, he replaced his boots. When the thirty minutes came, Bard mounted his steed, Caliph, gently stroking the horse's mane. "Move out!" ordered Lieutenant Randall from the front of the battalion. Bard urged Caliph forward with the other foot soldiers walking behind them._

_No one spoke but as they came near the mountain pass, he strung his bow, glancing from side to side. Everything seemed too peaceful to be called safe. He didn't believe that the area wasn't surrounded. But as they were halfway through the pass, he felt his resolve waver and Lieutenant Randall, who rode before him, turned to face him. "See? There's not one soul—"_

_But before he could finish the familiar whizzing sound of something cutting the air met his ears and his eyes widened in horror as he saw his lieutenant, the man he had looked up to, jerk in his steed as an arrow pierced his heart. With wide eyes, Lieutenant Randall fell from his steed. Free of rider, the horse bounded off._

"_LIEUTENANT RANDALL!" shouted Bard, but all around them, arrows went whizzing by, death carried through the air. "RETREAT! EVERYONE FALL BACK!" But they were stuck; those in the rear didn't know of the chaos and kept marching. Marching to their deaths. Caliph reared, throwing him off before galloping off after Lieutenant Randall's steed._

_Scrambling to his feet, he notched an arrow, aiming it for a nearby soldier above him. Letting it go, he watched as one of their numbers fell. This was the worst situation if possible. To be cornered. It didn't take long for their large battalion to become decimated. Pushing his back against the mountain side, he notched another arrow, felling another attacker. But the onslaught was just too great. His wards had thrown every arrow off course but he was getting tired._

_That was when he saw a tall figure with dark armor step out from the shadows, blades drawn. A loud roar nearly shattered his hearing. His mouth fell slightly open when a sapphire dragon dove from the clouds, breathing fire upon the troops. Within seconds the entire mountain pass around him was set aflame, the attackers yelling and screaming as they fell to the ground burning. The tall man, Bard saw, was busy hacking down the survivors._

_It took less than ten minutes for everything to settle and an eerie quietness settled over them. Moving slightly through the dead bodies, he stared about himself. Dead, they were all dead. Arrows protruded from bodies and swords pierced flesh during the confusion. Lieutenant Randall lay not far off from the head of the dead bodies, his eyes opened in surprise, caught off guard. "Rest in peace, sir." With that he slowly closed his eyes, staring at the man he had admired._

_What was he to do now? Return to the capital without his battalion? How was he going to explain to the higher in command what had happened during their mission? How he had managed to come out of it alive but everyone else had died tragically? The sound of boots crunching on the ground met his ears and he turned to find the armored man walking towards him, his blades sheathed away. "Who are you?" asked Bard._

"_Gabranth," said the figure. He turned his head side from side as if evaluating the damage. "A whole battalion destroyed and yet you lived throughout the onslaught. That is quite impressive."_

"_And yet you and your dragon slaughtered them all in a matter of minutes," countered Bard._

"_But what will you do now that your entire battalion is destroyed?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Luck didn't help you survive this battle. It was skill and strength and if you don't know what to do with it anymore, then work for me."_

Bard jumped when the door to the kitchen flew open revealing Desdemona and Rosalie followed by an excited Finny. "You haven't started yet, Bard?" asked Rosalie incredulously. He shrugged.

"I don't know what his lordship would like; he doesn't eat meat, that's one delicacy off the table." He grumbled staring at the slab of meat before him. Then an idea clicked in his head.

Nearly an hour and a half later was he finally done and setting the banquet table for the occasion. Rosalie had pulled out their finest tea seat and silverware while Desdemona had decorated the halls with bouquets of beautiful follows and Finny stood to the side, bringing in food. Lord Gabranth came in with his mother and took the seat at the head of the table. Saphira was able to fit into the large space with ease and lay next to the banquet table.

Lord Gabranth, unlike his normal attire, wore a pale red tunic and black breeches. His brows rose when he took in the sight of the food before him. A variety of soups, mushroom to carrots, honey cakes, blueberry pies, and in the center a cake made in a semblance of Saphira. "Happy Birthday, Lord Gabranth!"

He didn't smile nor did he frown but rather he stared at all of them and their bright smiles and Bard could see, though it was just barely there, the light in his eyes. It was a rather eventful occasion. Desdemona and Rosalie fawned over him as usual, pouring bits of food onto his plate while serving Lady Selena. Finny was amusing Saphira by tossing chunks of meat at her for her to catch while Bard just sat there, pleased that his cooking come out well for once. This peace, he could get used to it.

**Did you all have fun reading it? I'm somewhat sorry for the little long wait. :) I don't have much of a note because I'm going to surprise you all with the next few chapters. :) And hopefully it'll be up soon! Review everyone, don't forget!**


	24. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

**You all have the right to shoot me. I am beyond sorry that it took so long for this chapter to come up but I had some important things that I had to do in my life. And I just couldn't find the time to bust out my laptop to actually start typing this chapter. And thank god, it's finally up! I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter since it took ages for me to actually post it. Next one won't be so long. Hopefully. Anyways read and review!**

The weeks spent in Ellesméra went by with a somewhat painful but quick pace. The only thing he could remember clearly was the aching pain in his back caused by Durza. The wound that his father had given him had opened once again. The sun was low in the sky, signaling evening, and Oromis had put them hard at work. Eragon was off to the side studying a plant — one of Oromis's scrolls clutched in one hand— and Arya was beside, she too studying a plant and by the looks of it pointing out details for Eragon when needed, while Murtagh had to spar with Oromis. Despite his age, Murtagh, with his disabilities — his back and the fact that he was human — was no match for someone whose blood ran thick with magic. He was outmatched by Oromis as he was by Durza and Arya. And though he hated to even think of such things, he knew that even Eragon could best him. His younger brother. It tinted his thoughts with a color of shame.

Pulling back, he brought up Zar'roc in time to fend off an oncoming attack. Murtagh was thankful when Oromis lowered his sword. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he waited for his teacher's advice. "It seems that the point for us to cease exchanging blows has come." He stared at Oromis, not comprehending what he was trying to say. "I will have it arranged for you to spar every morning before you arrive here with another elf."

He frowned but felt somewhat relived that it was not with Eragon. Sheathing Zar'roc, he followed Oromis when he motioned towards the hut. As they were eating mushroom stew, the door opened and Arya walked in first, followed by Eragon. It may have sounded sound pathetic, but as much as Eragon didn't like him, he didn't like his younger brother in return. He might respect him but that was it. His life may have been unfair, even horrible. But that didn't mean everyone else lived happily. No, the knowledge that his father was Morzan had haunted him for most of his life and the thought that his mother had abandoned him had nearly torn his heart to pieces. And yet, Eragon was the given the chance to live with their mother. But he still made the most of it and that was where he and Eragon differed, Murtagh thought as he watched the two take their seats across from them.

It was during times like these that the awkwardness got the best of them. No one spoke and who did was Oromis. He asked questions of their lessons and their learning. And they would reply in a few sentences. Oromis nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, it seems as if you both are very well taught. More so than I could expect or hoped."

"And what does that mean?" asked Eragon.

"That I shall have to make up a test of sorts for the two of you." And it was during times like these that he felt insanely inferior. His lack of knowledge and power, his disability, had set him far lower than Arya and Eragon as a Rider. It was almost unfair. "But tomorrow, I would like you two to spend half an hour sparring with one another before you come here."

Murtagh frowned, even if he didn't have to spar Arya nor Eragon, they were going to see him fall to another elf, and the thought of it was shameful.

When he was alone in his tree, he glared at the only thing that was his inheritance from his father. Zar'roc. It was a childish and petty thought but he was sure that Eragon would rather live the way he did now than be reborn as the son of Morzan. At least he still had two parents who loved him. _You have Roran. _But he didn't even know where his cousin was. Sitting on his bed, he turned the green apple in his hands. It had been a tiring day. Learning, fighting, and practicing the Rigmar. And now he had the extra task of speaking only in the ancient language during his stay in Ellesméra. Life, Murtagh thought, wasn't getting any simpler.

A knock on his screen door disturbed his quiet. "Enter," he said, wondering if it was Arya. It was. She had visited him before to show him Ellesméra, and he was grateful that she had never thought to bring Eragon along with them.

Arya greeted Murtagh and Thorn, then said, "If you're not busy, I thought that you might appreciate an opportunity to visit Tialdari hall and the adjacent gardens, since you seem very interested in Ellesméra."

"We'd be delighted to see them," said Murtagh setting down his green apple. He didn't understand the odd look in her eyes when he placed the apple on his bedside table by Oromis's time piece. When all three of them descended from the tree, Arya directed them westward toward an unfamiliar quadrant in Ellesméra. They encountered many elves on the path, all of whom stopped to bow to Thorn and Eridor. He had to admit, the attention that they gave the dragons was unnerving.

Passing by a tree, he felt himself frown when emerald eyes traveled to the open teardrop, and just barely he could see a glint of sapphire. There was something between Arya and Eragon. Something that he couldn't understand. Just then, a shadow passed by and disappeared, no doubt Eragon. "He seems busy as of late."

Murtagh nodded. That was true, he had heard from Saphira that Eragon had spent most of his time reading up on scrolls and ancient texts, like he was looking for something but he couldn't find it. "I wouldn't know, he doesn't speak to me often," he said.

Arya nodded. At last they arrived at an archway which had permitted their entry due to Arya. A vast garden laid before them, filled with such a variety of plants that he found it difficult to think that they were only in one part of Alagaësia. Flameless lanterns gave light to the area.

She had showed them many interesting parts of the compound. The common room and hall, where they would stay if they were not Rider and Dragon, the gardens and each room that was available to the size of a dragon. Each room was different from one another, as if the elves considered the idea of being in the same room dull.

They saw many great works of art, from fairths to paintings, sculptures to mosaics with one motif in mind, the show plants and animals in their true beauty. Islanzadí met with them for a short time, inquiring about their training and the state of Murtagh's back, both of which he had politely answered. It had satisfied her for she left after exchanging a few words with Saphira and Arya.

In the end they had returned to the gardens, Murtagh listening intently as Arya explained to him about the different types of flowers that were grown and nourished with the energy from magic. "Is there one in particular that you like?" he asked.

She smiled and led him to a tree on the edge of the garden, where a patch of black morning glories were coiled around the tree's lowest branch. She blew on them, saying in the Ancient Language, "Open."

The petals rustled as they unfurled. It was a beautiful flower, Murtagh thought. It matched her personality quite well. A black morning glory. The name even resembled her somewhat. And the fact that she dressed in all black outside of Du Weldenvarden didn't seem like a coincidence. She was the black glory that would bloom for those whom she was willing to, he thought. But he didn't voice it to her. Their friendship didn't seem deep enough for him to get to speak freely to her.

"Is it not the most perfect and lovely flower?" asked Arya.

Murtagh gazed at her and at the flower. "It is." He didn't say this to please her nor to curry favor but he truly thought that it was indeed a beautiful flower. He glanced at her once again, wondering . . .

"Is something troubling you?"

Murtagh shook his head. "No," and as casually as he could, "Has Eragon been here yet?"

Arya stared at him, the smile on her face dimming somewhat. "He hasn't." she said. "When I asked him, he was busy with research of some sort. Was there something in particular that you wanted to know?"

He shook his head. "Not really." Research . . . . Again, the thought rushed through his mind. What was it that his brother was searching for and yet not asking for help with, not reaching out for it? "He hasn't seemed like himself lately."

She raised a brow, and he fought for words to continue. How could he say it when he didn't understand himself? And he could remember a lesson that was taught to him by Uncle Garrow. Never make assumptions when one didn't understand things by the surface of their nature. "It seems as if he's on edge . . . . He looks somewhat sickly sometimes."

The smile on her face disappeared altogether. _We should leave it at that, Murtagh. There's no need to worry Arya anymore, _said Thorn. He nodded. After he had told her and Eridor, they both wished the two of them goodnight.

_What were you thinking? _asked Thorn.

He shrugged. _Arya seems to be the only person within the whole of Du Weldenvarden to know Eragon well enough to be called his friend. I was just pondering the thought of whether or not she knew what it was that ails him._

_Ails? How can you be so sure that he is sick?_

_It's a feeling, I know it sounds pathetic, but every time I see him, he seems to be less and less himself by the day. Don't you see it?_

_I don't._

He frowned. Was he the only one who saw his brother's sickness? His slow change in attitude? He could remember clearly one day when they were studying the lives of ants when his brother had slumped forward without warning, a hand reaching for his eye. Was he half blind? But that idea didn't make sense either.

_ You shouldn't worry yourself with it, Murtagh. He will tell Arya or Oromis eventually._

But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to stop. Something was wrong with Eragon. The same thought floated through his head when he closed his eyes to let sleep take him, the only moment within time where he could finally rest.

But morning came all too soon.

He and Thorn were waiting by the tree for a few minutes before they were met by a solemn dark haired elf, and by the looks of him, Murtagh knew that things weren't going to go as smoothly as he had half hoped. The elf bowed and touched his fingers to his lips-a gesture Murtagh mirrored. "May good fortune rule over you."

"And may the stars watch over you," replied Murtagh. "Are you the elf in which Oromis had sent to spar with me?"

But he received no answer, instead, the elf turned to greet Thorn and he felt a scowl turn over on his features. It was hard to be polite sometimes, Murtagh thought. He wished that he had his brother's capacity for indifference and ability to ignore everything with ease. He was, as Oromis liked to put it, 'hot-blooded' and liked to act on emotions.

" . . . I am Vanir of House Haldthin."

_Well met Vanir._

Only then did the elf address Murtagh. "I shall show you to the sparring grounds where you may practice with your blade." His eyes flickered to Zar'roc with an expression akin to distaste.

When they had arrived within the sparring grounds he felt his heart drop. It was dotted with elves of both sexes fighting in pairs and groups. Their gift for extraordinary strength and speed resulted in clashes of swords that resounded like someone hammering an anvil. To the side, he could see Arya and Eragon ferociously clashing at a level he knew he might never be able to achieve with his disability. There was no doubt he was going to make a fool of himself.

As everyone had stopped and bowed to Thorn, he watched as the large red dragon settled next to Saphira and Eridor, who were both watching the proceedings with interested eyes. Murtagh took his position opposite Vanir and unsheathed Zar'roc. _I'm just going to be humiliated, _Murtagh thought, as he eyed the inhuman swordsmanship about him, watching as Eragon easily dodged from Arya's always moving blade with such ease, it was as if he bend without the restraint of gravity.

Usually he would have fought with everything he had in him, but the thought of humiliation weighed him down. He dodged and fought at a distance from Vanir, trying not to trigger a fit he had been having all so much. But despite that, Vanir had managed to hit him with ease. And every time he did so, his expression began to change from emotionlessness to open contempt. Moving to the side, Vanir brought his sword forward, smashing it out of Murtagh's hand with ease. He watched as the red blade went flying.

With ease as if he was just going on a stroll, Vanir dropped his sword on Murtagh's neck. "Dead." He shrugged it off and went to retrieve Zar'roc. "I had expected better seeing how your father was Morzan, but it seems that you are just like the rest of your race, a weakling human."

"Don't speak of things you don't know of," said Murtagh coldly, his anger getting the better of him. "As I recall you've stayed hidden within Du Weldenvarden while others fought at Farthen Dûr."

Vanir stiffened with rage. "We weren't aware of such circumstances that had fallen upon the Varden. I am not a coward, human."

And just like that, he was beginning to dislike Vanir more and more. No one moved or spoke on the field and Murtagh tried his best to avoid his brother's presence. Surly he was laughing at him now. The sight of him, a Rider, being ridiculed by an elf was shameful.

"Coward, I say, your blood is as thin as the rest of your race. I think that Thorn was confused by Galbatorix's wiles and made the wrong choice of Rider." Murtagh gripped his sword, whirling about in a fit of rage, Zar'roc flashing as he charged at Vanir, ignoring the gasps of the spectating elves.

He should have known better, rage had clouded his vision and before he it even occurred to him, he was on his back covered in dirt, Zar'roc lying a few feet away from him. "Weakling. A worthless rider." Vanir's taunting words reaching his ears.

The sound of crunching grass reached his ears and he saw a hand reach out to grasp the hilt to Zar'roc. The red blade was lifted easily from the ground. But who had reached for his sword, he didn't know.

"You have no right to look down on people." Murtagh's blood chilled when he heard Eragon's cold and harsh words.

"And you have no right to interfere in such." Vanir replied. Struggling to sit up, he could see Eragon's stiff back facing him, Zar'roc gleaming in his right hand. "Your brother may be a weakling but you're no different either, considering the fact that you've been overseen by Galbatorix."

And within that instant, he was bounding for Vanir with such rage, it was hard to believe that it was his calm and usually stolid brother. "DON'T YOU LOOK DOWN ON OTHERS!" he repeated, this time the phrase coming out as a yell of rage.

He turned his head to glance at Arya; wasn't she going to help? But when he caught sight of the elven princess, he found her rooted to the spot as if struggling to make a decision. "HOW COULD YOU DISCRIMINATE WHEN HIS WEAKNESS IS FOR BEING WHAT HE IS? HUMAN? DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH!"

He could just make out that Eragon was dangerously close to actually injuring Vanir, who was trying to dodge his heavy blows. But just barely. "HE'S TRYING HIS BEST AND ALL YOU CAN DO IS RIDICULE HIM! BUT I GUESS IF HE DIES YOU COULD'NT CARE LESS SINCE THERE ARE STILL TWO OPTIONS AVAILABLE TO YOU!"

He slammed Vanir's sword out of his hand, bring Zar'roc upwards in an arch, before it was deflected as Arya finally decided to intervene. But he could tell from the look on her face that she was shocked at his outburst.

They stared at each other indefinitely before Eragon turned and made for Murtagh, who felt a slight trickle of fear, but the sight of his pale and drawn face made him somewhat worried. With unnatural strength, Eragon bent down gripping the front of Murtagh's tunic and pulled him to his feet. He drove Zar'roc into the ground between them and said harshly, "Don't you ever bow to people like him. It's a disgrace."

With that he let go and without a word to anyone left the quiet field with Saphira following him from above in the air. When they were gone, murmurs and whispers began to break through around them. The elves didn't seem to like Eragon's loss of control over his emotions, but it was bound to happen; he was going to snap eventually.

But the most affected was Arya; she seemed at a loss for words about what happened. And he could share that confusion with her without problem. Murtagh was still in shock that his brother would stand in his defense. He winced mentally though when he thought of how Islanzadí was going to think of such a violent act.

Gripping Zar'roc he had a hard time pulling it from the ground. A hand shot out and grasped the hilt, pulling it for him. He found himself staring at Arya's worried green eyes as she held his sword out for him to take. "Thank you."

She nodded before motioning him to sheath his sword. "I think that would be enough for today. We should go and see Master Oromis."

Murtagh agreed, wondering if Eragon was going to be there or not.

**What did you all think? Good, bad, iffy? My next chapter will be more suspenseful and I think I'm going to try to work to POVs in it but honestly, I don't like to do that in just a chapter. Usually when I write POVs I make sure that they last the entire chapter, I just don't like switching in between. But besides that, review and hopefully my next chapter shall be posted! :)**


	25. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

**Back again! And I hope I didn't have you all waiting that long! I'll keep this note short and simple so you may all get reading as fast as you possibly can! :)**

He did not return to his tree, nor did he leave for Oromis's lessons. The only thought in his head when he left the sparring field was to get as far away from Ellesméra and its inhabitants as possible. And he had no problem with that resolve.

Direction was lost on him, but he couldn't care less as his feet brought him away from the elven capital. He was sick of it all. Sick of the insidious politeness. Sick of the kind guise that the elves hid behind. And that was why, he thought a half an hour later by a small bank far from Ellesméra, why he somewhat liked Vanir. It was somewhat an oxymoron. He hated the elf but yet was somewhat happy at the fact that he was one of the few who didn't hide his contempt.

Reaching out to touch the surface of the clear water, the sight of his hands shaking made didn't escape his notice. Fear. He hated the feeling. But it was impossible to escape its icy grips. Back then on the field, he hadn't meant to snap like such. Eragon was not one to lose his composure in front of others.

But . . . .

Splashing his face with the cool water from the river, he sighed. His vision gazed back at him from the mirrored surface of the water. Thinking back on it, when those words escaped Vanir's mouth, he had wanted to break the elf's jaw. He disliked watching others look down on people. But it was something else, seeing Murtagh thrown off his feet and landing on his back in the dirt made him furious. He may not like his brother, but he didn't want to see him ridiculed by what he was nor his disability.

He had thought that he might have a word or two with Vanir, but it was different. The time he was standing on the field watching the scene unfold before his eyes, a deep anger was building up in him. And it snapped when Vanir had treated Murtagh so, but that wasn't what scared him. When Murtagh landed on the ground, it was as if someone had drawn him from his body and took control of his limbs, bending it to their will.

His time was running out. And all those restless hours he had spent searching through the ancient scrolls that belonged to the library of Ellesméra and Oromis's scrolls were going to be wasted. Saphira, who was curled in on herself, gently nudged him with her snout. _Why don't you ask Oromis for help?_

_No._ He wouldn't be able to understand Eragon's current situation. And he didn't want Islanzadí drawn into it either. Not to mention that if he went out with this secret, he would have to tell them everything else as well.

_Stop being stubborn, Eragon. This is more than pride we're talking about now. Your life could be at risk. _He could hear the worry underlining her voice and knew that if he didn't tell Oromis than she would.

But he didn't want ask for help. That would mean he was no different than the child who cried in that dark cell all of those years ago. But was it good to be strong? Was it wrong to be weak? Always the same questions, never any answers. He stared at his reflection once more, dripping with water, before leaving the river bank.

Leaning back against Saphira's side, he tiredly closed his eyes. He wasn't in the mood to leave for Oromis's lessons; he didn't want to apologize nor be reprimanded for what he had done at the practice field. But he couldn't just run away forever from the oncoming confrontation with Oromis and Islanzadí.

He forced the thought out of his head and tried to let the calming forest relax his stressed mind and body. Eventually the lull of sleep had consumed him.

_It was as if he was looking down upon a bloodied scene in which he couldn't quite clearly make out the people. But their height and statures looked oddly familiar to him. The land was a clear field in which a horde of soldiers fought. One group was much smaller than the other. He could see beyond the fighting a river._

_Despite the fact that the battle was raging furiously by the opposing soldiers, another battle was being fought not far off from the group in which shrill laughter was echoing through the air. It was a small battle, in which only a few people fought. A tall man was ferociously attacking his opponents. But no matter how much he battered them away, they rose to weather the onslaught._

_He couldn't distinguish who the enemy was, but he watched as the man seemed to fight internally fight himself. On the battlefield, distractions cost one their life. A sword came flying from one of the fighter's ready hands, a female by the look of it, and plunged itself into his torso, the force of it causing him to fall._

_The four of them had won and he watched as a tall figure went to kneel besides the fallen one, bending as if trying to whisper consoling words to him. But why would they want to comfort their dying enemy? As the vision began to fade away, he glimpsed the sight of an iridescent red sword, gleaming with blood as it stayed deep within the man's chest._

A knock interrupted startled him. Knock? Who would knock when he was out in the open? But as he blinked, he found himself lying face first on his bed. _I brought you back; sleeping sitting up isn't a comfortable way to sleep._

He groaned. _Thank you, Saphira._

_You're welcome, but I think you should let Arya in._

Not moving from his position on his bed, he called for her to enter and she did. Her dragon, Eridor flew in through the teardrop opening. He watched her expression as she took in his messy chambers. Scrolls and ancient texts littered the table by the entrance and frustrated crumpled bits of paper were strewn on the floor. She looked concerned.

"Pardon my lack of organization," he mumbled, his face still burrowed within his pillow, muffling his voice. He felt a dip in the side of his bed signaling her sitting down beside him.

"How are you feeling, Eragon?"

"Tired." He admitted, reluctantly turning his face to stare up at her. Maybe it was his lack of clarity or the fact that he had just woken but her beauty somewhat dazed him for a moment. Only for a moment. "Is the lesson over?"

She nodded and he sighed again. Rolling over onto his back, he sat up tiredly rubbing a hand over his face and through his messy brown hair. "If you don't mind, would you like to accompany me on a tour of my ancestral home?"

He stared at her, remembering the time when she had asked him a week ago but he had been so wound up with research and couldn't find the time to join her. Seeing as he wasn't going to get anything research done in his state, he nodded and threw his leg over the bed, rising to his feet. He grinned when he found his sword tossed recklessly upon the ground. How Saphira managed to remove them from his hip he would never know.

She huffed. _It took a lot of work not to tear the flesh from your skin._

He chuckled as he and Arya made their way down the stairs and onto the ground. "Vanir spoke harshly this morning." She said, glancing at him from the side. He sighed.

"But my reaction was uncalled for, I -" he didn't know how to explain it to her. Or whether or not he should explain it to her. The stopped before a hall and despite her expression, she opened the way for them to enter Tialdari hall. It was a beautiful place.

As she presented to him the different rooms, he watched her expression and the longing on her face as she described the home of her family to Eragon. It must have its toll on her when she was unable to reside in her family home with Eridor now. "And this is my chamber."

He hesitantly stepped inside; two fairths decorated the wall of the spacious vine covered living room. One of a stern, proud elf with silver hair, whom he assumed to be her father and the other of a younger male elf whom he didn't recognize. But the small suspicion of that being Fäolin or Glenwing didn't escape his notice. For some unfathomable reason, he felt a tint of a strange rage in his heart. Turning from the wall, he made a quick tour of her apartment, glancing inside her small bedroom and study. "It's beautiful," he said sincerely as they made way back to the gardens.

She favored him a smile.

The garden, he thought, was a place in which every flower and plant resided. He listened as she explained them to him, nodding and storing some new knowledge in the back of his mind. "Which one is your favorite?" she asked him.

Without hesitation, he pointed to a patch of white roses, and for some unknown reason, her expression shone with shock. It was gone within a second. He fingered the white petals softly. "And yours?"

She pointed to a patch of Black Morning Glories and he nodded. "They're beautiful," he said for the second time that day. He glanced up as the light from the flameless lanterns began to grow brightly as night settled over the garden. It was getting late. He was about to voice it, when Arya spoke.

"You've yet to fully explain yourself about what had happened this morning, Eragon." He refused to meet her eyes as they stood there in silence, their dragons remaining silent as they watched the two of them and their odd relationship.

"I acted on impulse," he said eventually. That was all he could say, for the ancient language restricted any further speech.

She nodded. They stood there together before Arya spoke again. "What is it that you're searching for, Eragon? You've been busy of late searching through texts and scrolls. Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"It's getting late—" he made to turn but her hand shot out and gripped his wrist, tightly. He felt slightly startled when she pulled him to face her, their faces inches apart. Her eyes, he thought, were the only sign of age in her. Deep and knowing. He blinked uncomfortably, refusing to stare at her head on.

"What is it, Eragon?" Arya whispered.

"Answers." That was the least he could say. Her brows slanted dangerously, and her lips parted but before another word escaped her, an imperious voice broke through their mist. He watched as Arya slowly unwrapped her hand from his wrist, frustrated at their interruption.

The both of them turned to find Islanzadí make her way towards them, her cloak billowing about her slender frame. "Saphira, Eridor." Islanzadí acknowledges before turning to face them. "And what is it that you two are heatedly discussing with one another?"

"Nothing, Mother," said Arya and he could somewhat see that she was crossed.

Islanzadí raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Arya Svit-Kona speaks the truth." He watched as mother and daughter stared at one another. It would be a fine time to leave now. Voicing it, he watched as Islanzadí nodded.

"I shall see him off, Mother," said Arya, motioning for him to follow her. He did so, feeling piercing eyes on his back. When they were at the entrance, he turned to her.

"I thank you for showing me your home, I've enjoyed it," he said. Despite what had just transpired, she nodded. A faint smile on her face as the moon illuminated her appearance in a pale light.

"And I enjoyed showing it to you. Goodnight, Eragon." He nodded, watching as the doors began to close and the last thing he could glimpse before it closed all the way was her green eyes, glowing brightly in the dark. _Oh, stop standing there and climb on._

He did and as Saphira took flight, couldn't help but turn to stare at the disappearing compound. The time he spent with Arya was very enjoyable but it was somewhat flawed with the appearance of her mother. _She doesn't like the two of you together._

_I can see that._

Jumping from Saphira's back, he passed by his table without chancing a glance at it. Arya must have stayed behind to speak to her Mother. Unlacing his boots and laying his swords on his bedside table, he sighed. If his time did actually run out, what was going to happen to him and the people he cared for? He could only grudgingly admit it but he had started to grow a feeling for Arya, a tender care.

Not willing to deal with Saphira's knowing thoughts and his own forming migraine he crawled into bed without hesitation and thankfully fell asleep. The following morning, he found himself standing resolutely by the base of his tree waiting pondering whether or not to continue sparring with Arya. He was in the middle of deciding when she walked up to him. Eridor must have been at the practice field training with Thorn in the air.

"Good morning," she said, after they performed the usual greeting.

He nodded. "And to you as well."

"Are you not coming to the field today?"

He frowned. "I didn't think it would be such a brilliant idea." He admitted.

"Nonsense." And like that, he ended up following her to the field. As they came into view with the sparring elves, he ignored how they seemed to have stopped to look at him before turning to face Arya. He didn't like the feeling of this.

To the side he glimpsed Murtagh and Vanir sparring. Trying not to pay attention to them, he unsheathed one of his swords and brought it before him, the tip pointing to the sky as he angled it before his torso. Like how they would usually start their duels, one would blink and the other would follow, signaling the spar's beginning.

Arya was getting better, Eragon thought, as he sidestepped a rather dangerous blow to his head. It took almost a full hour to batter her into defeat. A sharp nip on his head startled him; he was getting distracted. He tried not to throw himself fully into the fight, afraid of triggering another episode like yesterday. Blocking a blow from her, he pulled back ready to turn the tables before his mind flashed once more.

_This white void again._

_The weight of the chains held him bound to the same spot, struggling to get free. And he watched as the crypt before him burst open, a strong violet aura bursting forth, followed by a cold laughter._

_His body wasn't responding to him anymore. "Damn it!" What was happening? Was he going out of control? Pulling against his chains, he grunted when they ended up squeezing him tighter. "Let me go!"_

_But the more he tugged, the more constricted the binds became. Trying to control his panic, he took a deep breath before letting it out. Think, Eragon, think. They were in trouble, Murtagh and Arya and everyone else on the field._

_He gave another painful tug._

Everything came rolling back into sight. The field, his sword, everything. But the only difference was that the silver blade was dyed red. He glanced at it in horror and turned to see who he had injured. Immediately, his heart plummeted to the ground when he caught sight of long hair and pained emerald eyes.

He had nicked her on the side of her head and had injured her along her shoulder quiet roughly, her leg looked oddly supported. The sight of her blood shocked him. Eragon was too stunned to dodge a fist flying for his face. Stumbling slightly he turned to find an enraged Murtagh. "WERE YOU TRYING TO KILL ARYA?"

"No—I—" The words for explanation had escaped him. This was the end for him in Ellesméra.

"THEN WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO DO?"

His hands shook slightly and he felt a pale sheen of sweat cover his body and face. Everything was wrong. And he was wrong as well. Nothing was going to be able to fix it. How could he apologize to the one person who had been all but a friend to him?

The elves were slowly closing in on him, their swords raised. Panic, that was all he felt. Ignoring Saphira's thoughts in his mind, he swung his sword towards one of the elves causing them to break formation and that break was enough. Rushing forward, he bounded off from the field. He wasn't going to turn back anymore. Refusing to look behind him, he veered west, taking the shortest path out of Du Weldenvarden.

He didn't care anymore; he had to leave this place once and for all. There was nothing left for him to do within Ellesméra. They wouldn't understand if he explained it to them. Knowing that Saphira was following him from above, he kept running through the forest. Weaving in and out of the trees. Eventually when the branches began to become more spaced out, Saphira dove forward, gripping his tunic with her teeth, and threw him against a tree. _That's enough running, Eragon!_

_I don't—I don't know what's becoming of me, Saphira, _he thought with fear and panic that was uncharacteristic of him.

_We have to go back; we have to speak to Oromis._

_No! _He glared at her. _After what I've done to Arya, how can we go back now? They wouldn't accept us!_

_I'm not going to let you die out here without seeking aid!_

_And I'm not returning to Ellesméra! Would you rather I die by blade there instead? _Gripping his hair, he glared at his sword that was painted with red blood and furiously kicked it to the side. He was dangerous. And he had just attacked the only person to act kindly to him outside the borders of the Empire.

**What did you all think? Good, bad? Please review, I love reading your thoughts. And I know that the story is going at a somewhat slow pace but I'm working up to the climax. Any questions or suggestions, review or for those who like to message me, you can. I'll see you at the next chapter in which I hope I'm not too slow on updating.**


	26. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

**I am beyond sorry! And this time I have no excuses whatsoever. Although I love to write fanfictions, I like to read new books every once in a blue moon. Have any of you heard or read the Hunger Games trilogy? Let me tell, they are addicting! I spend almost all of my free time these past weeks reading them. Hence the slow update. Don't worry though, it doesn't happen often that I find a GOOD book. Besides, this chapter was hard to write. I had it planned out but when I typed it, it didn't read right sometimes. Anyways, since you've all waited so long go ahead and read!**

Relacing her boots over the still sensitive but healed skin, Arya tried not to let the incident that morning bother her. But it did. Fear. That was what she felt. It was pointless not to deny it. But she didn't fear for herself as much as she had feared for Eragon. Something was changing him. And whatever it was estranged him from herself and the world beyond from all except Saphira. But why hadn't the sapphire blue dragon stepped in to help her Rider? Why? She jumped somewhat when Eridor's snout gently rubbed her upper arm.

_You're worried._

_Of course, I am. _Arya replied, standing. Not only did Eragon attack a fellow rider, his standings had been dropped within Du Weldenvarden. Her mother would not be pleased to hear of such tidings. No doubt she had already heard it. And the knowledge evaded her of whether or not Gilderien the Wise had decided to punish him. _Why is life so complicated?_

_I didn't know that you like to bemoan your fate, _said Eridor.

He was right. She was an elf. A princess. And a Rider. There was no time to act petty and wish for a better fortune. Just the idea of it made her slightly embarrassed. It was no doubt that she was spending too much time with Eragon and Murtagh. Checking her recently healed shoulder, she sighed. They had dulled their blades before the battle, but he had attacked with such ferocity that it had managed to break the skin. Her green eyes wandered over to Eridor's large bulk. _It's surprising that you would just sit by and enjoy the unfolding of events._

He shifted on the ground of the field, uncomfortably. _Saphira spoke to me._

But when he refused to say anymore, she abandoned the thought of prying. Whatever it was, Saphira or Eragon would tell her in due time. "How are you, Arya?"

"Fine," she replied, as she lifted her head to take in the image of Murtagh standing before her. The way he looked at her made a slight trickle of anger run through her. Arya was not weak, and she didn't need him to worry over her. But such thoughts shouldn't be voiced. Her eyes drifted to his hand in which he had swung at his brother with such force the skin looked somewhat bruised. Fighting the instinct to purse her lips, she finished with the tie on her left boot and stood.

Her ankle supported her weight. Good. "It's nothing that magic can't heal," she said when she caught Murtagh's eyes traveling to her leg to her shoulder and finally to the side of her head. Arya glanced upwards; the sun was already high in the sky. "Master Oromis should be waiting for us."

Murtagh nodded. Arya glanced towards Eridor, he was still somewhat a fresh learner at flying and she didn't want to weigh him down with her weight. With all the grace she had possessed since birth, she slid onto the saddle behind Murtagh. But instead, before her with a mess of brown hair and broad shoulders, too broad to be elven was Eragon. She blinked. Today was not her day. _I would say so._

That made her slightly more irritated.

Just slightly.

"Eragon…" she turned to focus her attention on Murtagh, her irritation at Eridor pushed to the back of her mind. "Do you think he's sick?" It was the same question he had asked her earlier.

"I wouldn't know."

Murtagh nodded as if deep in thought and unlike his younger brother, she could easily see the conflicting emotions in his eyes. At least he was easier to decipher. Predictable like most humans she'd met within her seventy years outside of Du Weldenvarden. The rest of the flight was quiet with both of them deep in thought.

Air came rushing at her face as Thorn descended to the ground, and she wasn't surprised that Oromis and Glaedr were waiting from them outside of the hut. The solemn expression on Oromis's aged face was not a pleasant sign. There was no doubt of that. Sliding onto the ground, she greeted her teacher, waiting as Murtagh did the same.

It didn't elude her how Oromis's eyes were searching her body for any form of injuries. "I've heard about Eragon," he said quietly. Instead of revulsion, his eyes were clouded with concern. A kindness. She could imagine Eragon's reaction to such an act.

"Has Gilderien the Wise—?"

"No, I've ask for him to refrain on my behalf."

Arya nodded. One worry out of the way. "And Queen Islanzadí?"

"She has been informed and will not act for the meantime. I've asked for jurisdiction seeing as this involves my students." Another worry out of the way for the mean time. "But I need your help, Arya."

She nodded, indicating for him to continue. "I need you to bring Eragon back to Ellesméra."

Surprised coursed through her body. Her? Under what reason? Why not Murtagh? He had more rights than her to bringing back Eragon. They were blood related. But for some reason, if Oromis wanted her to do it she would. Murtagh, however, had refused.

"Thorn and I should go—"

"And miss your training?" Oromis said with a raised eyebrow. "I've thought this out thoroughly. Only Arya can go, she has every capability of doing so. With your back, Murtagh, there is no chance that you can bring Eragon back here."

"I can do it!" he insisted.

Oromis rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefingers. "Your rash behavior will not do us any good Murtagh. Let Arya handle this."

"He is my younger brother!"

"And if you claim to care for him in any sort of way, do not let your emotions hinder what little time we have left!" Arya blinked slightly surprised at the small edge in Oromis's voice. She watched as he left for his hut before returning with a saddle for Eridor. "Do you remember how to properly adjust a saddle, Arya?"

"I do." As if she would ever forget. With nimble fingers the two of them slipped the brown leather over Eridor's shoulders before tightening the knots and slips.

"You should gather provision. Saphira is an agile flyer; it'll take a while for Eridor to catch up to her." Oromis instructed. She nodded. "And Arya." She waited for her teacher to continue. "Don't give up hope."

_I know, _she thought, but she didn't voice it. Sliding into the saddle, she slipped her leg through the straps. This would be the first time that she and Eridor would fly together. Excitement had bubbled in her despite their current situation. And she could tell that he was feeling the same as well. _This is—_

_The first flight of many to come, _Eridor finished. She nodded. Pushing off on his hind legs, she watched as velvet emerald wing unfurled bringing air underneath them, pushing them into the sky. Despite her weight, Eridor's smooth flying didn't seem affected. His training with Glaedr must have been building up towards this moment.

_We need to go to Tialdari Hall._

_Of course. _Eridor slightly turned to the west and angling his body towards the ground, he sailed into a smooth landing into the gardens of her ancestral home.

_Wait here. _Turning to find her chambers, she halted for a second to see a white rose. Ignoring it, Arya left for her chambers. Grabbing her bow and arrows that she had stored away, her next stop was the kitchens. There she had the elves bring her fresh fruits and vegetables. Adjusting the pack on her shoulder as she walked back to the gardens, her brows slanted when she caught sight of her mother standing by Eridor and waiting for her.

When Islanzadí caught sight of Arya, she turned and the resemblance between mother and daughter could be seen. Her expression was in that of a frown. "Mother," Arya said stiffly.

"Arya." She replied. Her eyes flickered to the pack on her back. "And where is it that you are going?"

"To find Eragon."

Her brows slanted into a dangerous V and Arya could see that she was not pleased at the sight of her daughter running after Eragon. "You will not. I will not—"

"Allow it?" Arya supplied. "If you remembered Mother, I did not need your consent for the Yawë tattoo seventy years ago and I will not need it now to tell me whom I should associate myself with."

"You are making a mistake," Islanzadí whispered. She stopped as she strapped the pack onto Eridor's saddle. Arya was glad that Eridor had decided to stay put during this heated argument.

"You are making a mistake in letting Eragon go. We need him as an ally, Mother."

"And if he betrays us?" questioned Islanzadí. It was a thought that Arya had pondered on countless occasions. The fragile alliance they had with Eragon bordered only on trust. And it was proven time and time again that trusting in him was enough. Even if it is only for the meantime.

"I trust him. As should you, Mother," said Arya. Finally done with trying the pack onto the saddle she was about to slip onto Eridor's shoulders before her mother grabbed her by the wrist.

"Do not be a fool! You could be flying to your deaths. Do not think I do not know about what has happened this morning!" said Islanzadí. "If he has the audacity to attack you within your own homeland, he cannot be trusted."

"He is sick," Arya defended, feeling slightly angered at her Mother.

"He is dangerous."

"We all are," said Arya. "And I can defend myself."

"You are not going." She frowned at her mother. Her determination at keeping Arya from leaving Ellesméra was understandable. But she had to, if she wanted any chance in keeping Eragon within Du Weldenvarden. A chance at trying to save him from the illness that seemed to poisoning his person.

"I'm sorry." Avoiding the thunderous and somewhat hurt expression on her mother's face, she tugged her arm away from her mother's grip and jumped onto Eridor's shoulders. Without hesitation, he rose to the air, pushing into the sky with his powerful wings.

_That was rather eventful._

She nodded. _It was. _After a moments silence, she spoke again this time focusing on the topic at hand. _Fly to Eragon's tree._

_For what?_

_Answers. _He consented and within moments they were landing in Eragon's bedroom. She wasn't surprised to find it void of any living thing. It was still in the mess that he had left it when she had last visited him. Crumbled parchment lay strewn across the floor, scrolls not rolled shut, books laid open, and others were stacked to a precarious height.

_He has no sense of order._ She thought as she bent down to pick up a piece of parchment. Trying to straighten it out, her eyes were met with a text of the ancient language. _A spell? _There was no explanation for the strange word choice that varied from parchment to parchment. But there was one word that caught her eyes repeatedly. _Soul._ Abandoning the parchment, Arya let her eyes skim over an open scroll.

A picture of a fully drawn body and an explanation of the nerves and organs. The next one was the documentations of an ancient seal. But there was a scroll that seemed to belong to Eragon entirely. His handwriting was inked onto it. A sketch of the body and besides it was points and details of some of the nerves. Further down was a symbol of sorts, and repeatedly written next to it was _soul._

_Could it be something important?_ Eridor asked, seeing what she was through their connection. She nodded. There was so much research written on the scroll, how many sleepless nights had he spent on it? "The heart is the source . . ." And that was the last that was written on the scroll.

_What are you trying to do, Eragon? _Moving about his chambers, she stumbled slightly when her foot hit something. It was a bag of some sorts. Opening it, she was met with a black helm. Arya pulled it out and studied Eragon's armor. She could remember clearly the first time that she had seen him in it. In her mind, she had thought she had seen a monster, more vicious and sadistic than Durza. Instead, she was proven wrong when he had untied her and treated her in his quarters.

As she stared at the horns of his helm something seemed to click in her mind. _You think so?_

_I'm sure of it. _Arya replied placing the helm back in the bag. Returning to Eridor's side, she slipped back onto his shoulders. _Head west, after Eragon and Saphira. _With that, he flew from the opening of the tree and veered in the direction she had instructed. The sky was clear and devoid of any figure; it hadn't been long since Eragon had left. But evening was starting to descend. The two of them began to get ready to rest for the day.

Keeping her mind open, it was near impossible to try and see through the thick forest. He couldn't have gone far, Arya thought. As they flew, she tried not to think of what might come about when they came face to face again. The friendship they had would be strained by whatever had transpired that morning. When the sky had darkened to a pitch black she was about to tell Eridor to land before a familiar mind reached out to touch hers.

_Saphira._

Letting the dragon access her mind, she was surprised as worry flooded through their connection. _Arya, you and Eridor need to land._

_Has something gone amiss? _Arya asked.

_Eragon is sick. _Sick? It had confirmed her worst free, he was sick and must have been for a while for it to take its toll on him.

_Where are you?_

An image of a clear stream in a small clearing appeared and she felt Eridor dip forward as he took in the image projected in their minds. Trying not to shut her eyes as the wind rushed pass, she felt her eyes sting. Letting his wings flare out from his sides, Eridor came to a steady landing. Vaulting off of him, she went to find Eragon to see him bent over the stream, retching furiously. _He began to sick when we were traveling. I wanted to take him to Oromis but he refused._

Walking over to him, she knelt beside him and rubbed his back soothingly. But when her hand touched him, he jerked away from her, barely gasping. "Don't."

She frowned and came close, very close to glaring at him. Was it pride or something of a much sensitive nature? "We can discuss what happened later on. Are you hungry?" asked Arya. After a minute or so, he nodded.

Moving to untie her pack from the saddle, she pulled out a wineskin for him to wash his mouth with and gave him an arrangement of various fruits. He took only a few bites of a pear before setting it down. And that was when she knew how sick he truly was. If he was unable to eat probably, he must not be feeling well enough to do anything. Arya watched as he leant against a tree trunk tiredly.

Without hesitation she went to feel his forehead. Ice cold. "Are you feeling well?"

He cracked an eye open. "Are you asking me whether I'm on the verge of dying from a disastrous cold?"

Sarcasm. Another reason why Eragon had intrigued her so much. Usually the response that she would receive from humans was nervousness and respect. He obviously lacked those. "If you can make jokes then you're not as sick as I thought you were," she said, somewhat crossly. One reason why she didn't like to be around Eragon at times was that he could easily draw out her anger with a few choices of words.

But he didn't seem to be listening to her; instead he seemed to be trying to draw warmth from her hand that lay across his forehead. His pale exterior seemed to grow even more prominent. "Eragon, at least drink some water."

"I can't keep anything down," he murmured. A sharp intake of breath made her focus on him. Was he injured? But as she searched his frame, he was clear of anything serious except for some questionable bruises.

"What is it?" asked Arya, concerned. But he just shook his head. "Eragon, what's wrong?"

"Why did you come?" he asked ignoring her question.

"To bring you back to Ellesméra." This one time, she could afford to be truthful to him. He nodded, closing his eyes again. Noticing the slight shivers that seemed to course through his body, she moved him closer to Saphira, hoping that the heat from her would be enough to warm him.

But it wasn't. Even when she had lit a fire, it wasn't enough to warm him still. In the end, she had to resort to body heat. Moving him so he sat next to her against Saphira's foreleg, she gingerly moved his head to rest against her shoulder. Seemingly feeling warmth, he inched closer to her.

The night was quiet. Everything was peaceful except for the shallow breaths that Eragon seem to take during his sleep. He looked so peaceful and sickly that it was hard to imagine him and Gabranth being one and the same. Trying not to worry over his clammy hands, Arya thought that the only way to get him cured was to bring him back to Oromis.

But as she was considering how to bring Eragon back to Ellesméra, a strangled whisper broke through her train of thought. She had thought he was asleep since he was silent for over thirty minutes, but she was wrong as his quiet voice pierced through the night and through her mind. "I'm sorry."

**Good chapter? Don't forget to review! And seeing as we're close to the 400 mark range, I'm going to have to think of other things to put up and I'm sure I can come up with something. But besides, I just wanted to say some more sorries here and there because I know how it feels to wait for a good book to come out or a chapter to be uploaded and I usually try to stick to a fast, uploading speed. Hopefully this won't happen again. Review everyone and see you around the next chapter!**

**UPDATED: 08/27/2014**


	27. Rosalie

Rosalie

**I've updated! Finally, but the only flaw in this is the fact that it's not the next chapter of the story. But good news! I am halfway done with the chapter and it shall be up soon! I am still working on trying to keep my update speed at a consistent pace but I'm far from my usually three day speed. Anyways, since we've reached our 400 mark and I'm done with the stories of the servants, I'll have to think of something else to write about. But it's up to you readers to decide whether or not I should continue with bonus chapters because, seeing as the story is getting to its peak, I'm not sure if some of you would want to wait extra just because of some bonus chapters. But it's always good to have some background information. But besides that, happy reading!**

Sweeping past Bard and Finny who seemed to be in a rather pathetic argument, Rosalie watered the vase of roses that sat on the glass cabinet in the living room. Any moment now and one of those idiots were going to destroy something, Rosalie thought. Not a second later the sound of something falling to the ground reached her ears. Turning she felt her heart drop when she saw the expensive tea set in pieces on the ground. Lord Gabranth had personally bought that set. Seeing the pulsing gold tint of magic in Bard's hand, she knew immediately who the culprit was. "Bard . . ." Rosalie began.

But as soon as she said something he was gone and flying out of the living room, not doubt into the kitchen. Lord Gabranth was just too kind, she thought as she cleaned up the broken shards to toss them out. After all of the ridiculous funds that had been put into replacing broken item after item and wall after wall, he still didn't punish any of them. "Finny, why don't you go tend to the garden?"

"Alright!" He skipped from the room. She had to admit their roles were rather odd. Finny, the incredibly strong boy altered by Galbatorix's magicians, a gardener. Bard, a sergeant in the royal army, a cook. Desdemona, a beautiful girl, born from nobility, a maid. And she, Rosalie, a maid as well. Usually, she would never agree to such a low ranking job and yet, here she was cleaning things up and making sure everything was in order. She could remember her life before she had met Lord Gabranth.

_Usually humans don't live very long. If you were lucky, you could live to the old and nice age of eighty years old. If you weren't, well, you weren't. But her life was extended longer than she would've wanted. Whoever had done so had thought they were doing her a favor. But they weren't. Rosalie couldn't remember much of what had happened but she saw flashes of it. Bandits barricading her in, lying in the valley left to die and then something large and blue leaning down and just softly touching her with its snout. And when the next morning came, she was healed and alive. But that was over a hundred years ago._

_Rosalie had found herself wandering for almost a good two decades before realization hit home. She wasn't aging. Her young face was still flawless. Her beauty still dazzling. Not one wrinkle, not one sign of age except for her forest green eyes. That was when she met the witch Angela in Surda. A woman who remained ageless, away from the bounds of time from magic or her herbs. She had offered Rosalie a sanctuary and had given her something to do._

_In time, Rosalie had learned to use an arrow with precision and magic like no other magician in Galbatorix's forces. She was strong and never would a fate like she had experienced in the hands of those bandits befall her again. It was one night, however, that as she was leaving the herbalist's shop that she and Angela and ran together, she heard a scream._

_It was full of fear and following it was a whimper, a plead to stop. And she was angered as her own past surfaced as she remembered the cruel torture that was forced upon her. How since her rescue she could not marry a human man anymore, how she could not live a normal life amongst the Empire._

_Running in the direction of the agonizing screams, she turned a corner and hurried down an alleyway to find a group of drunken soldiers, barricading in a young girl who was barely eighteen by the looks of it. Her dress was ripped at the sleeves and Rosalie could see the fear in her eyes. Men; how she despised them and their superiority. Did they think that bearing the Empire's crest meant that they could do what they pleased with the common people?_

_Before she could decide whether to kill them straight off or take another course of action, one of the soldiers spotted her. "Oi! Look at this beauty." His words slurred as he stumbled towards her. "Got lost, sweetheart?"_

"_Get away from me!" Rosalie said in disgust. He didn't take the suggestion too kindly. He reached out and gripped her arm. It was pitiful to admit but her strength was no match for a man's. Digging deep into the barrier of her mind, she grabbed for the energy._

_But suddenly, the soldier dropped her hand and slowly began to back away from her. What was going on? Turning, her eyes caught sight of the dark helm and the black cape. "Lord Gabranth!"_

_He walked forward only to stop and incline his head towards her as if staring at her from behind his helm before returning to the group of soldiers. "What goes on here?" His deep voice was full of an anger which made the soldiers pale._

"_We were—"_

"_Yes?"_

"_We—we—"_

"_They were trying to whip out their swords and force that girl to play mistress to them!" Rosalie said, her anger getting the better of her._

_All was silent for a moment, and only the eerily stillness of night seemed to penetrate through their senses. Finally, Gabranth spoke. "You will return to the keep, all of you, and I shall see to it that you will be punished."_

_The fear in their eyes was clear. As they staggered away drunk and trying to right themselves, she felt undeniably pleased. But the feeling was soon washed away as she hurried forward to help the young girl. "It's alright, you're safe."_

_She didn't speak but nodded and numbly accepted her help. Her skin was cold and she was trembling. It didn't help either when Lord Gabranth stepped forward. His armor must have seemed frightening after what had happened. "Don't worry," he said in a manner that wasn't particularly soothing. "Those soldiers will be punished by the morrow, you have my word."_

_The girl didn't reply but instead gave a small nod. He turned to Rosalie. "Take her back home give her this." He placed a velvet pouch into her hands and she could feel a generous amount of crowns weighing down her hand. "Make sure she buys herself a new dress."_

_With that he turned and left disappearing into the shadows. Rosalie frowned. What an odd person. She had expected the infamous Lord Gabranth to be someone who didn't waste his time wandering the streets at night for crime…_

_It didn't take long for her to help the girl into her home where her parents were waiting anxiously for her. They thanked her for her help. As she was walking to her own home, she thought of Lord Gabranth. He was an interesting character. And truth to be told, she was bored with her life. Beyond bored actually. Everything was the same, nothing was changing._

_And that was why . . ._

"_Is there a reason why you came here, Ms. Rosalie?" said Lady Selena as she set a cup of brewed tea before her. Rosalie nodded, wandering how on earth such a person as Lord Gabranth would have such a beautiful and youthful mother._

"_Yes," said Rosalie as she raised the cup to her lips to take a sip. It was delicious. "Is his lordship coming?"_

"_I'll go call him again." Lady Selena made to rise from her seat but stopped as the door flew open, revealing a young man with pointed ears and angled eyes._

"_There's no need," said Lord Gabranth as he stepped into the room, his armored legs clanking against the floor. "You wanted to see me, mother?"_

"_No, Ms. Rosalie would like to have a word with you. If you need me I'll be out in the garden." With that she glided out of the room closing the door behind her. Gabranth turned to her, his expression impassive; he was not moved by her beauty. It surprised her._

"_Yes?" The way he said it made it sound like he had better things to do and that made her more interested in him._

"_I want to work for you."_

_That had caught him off guard for he didn't reply until nearly two minutes passed. "Work for me? And why would you want to do that?"_

"_Honestly . . . I just feel that working for you would be more interesting than my current life," said Rosalie. "Will you accept my proposal?"_

_He stared at her for a long time before turning on his feet, heading for the door and she'd thought that he had denied her before he spoke again. "Do what you want."_

And it had been three years since that time and life couldn't be more interesting. Shortly after she joined, Bard was soon hired for a cook but his cooking skills could be put into question, seeing as he always destroys the kitchen. Then came Desdemona, the proud daughter of a nobleman, who served Lord Gabranth with devotion. And finally Finny, the overexcited man that always seemed to be putting a hole in the wall, either by his reckless strength or outright clumsiness. But in truth, life had become much livelier. The once quiet house with just his lordship, lady, and Saphira, had transformed into a mansion filled with laughter; their laughter.

Just then Lord Gabranth passed by, walking towards his chambers. "My lord," Rosalie called. He turned to stare at her. "May Desdemona and I take leave to the city to buy another tea set?"

He gave her the same look as three years ago before turning. "Do what you want," came his reply as he entered his room, closing the door behind him. Rosalie smiled as she went to search for her female companion. Life was looking up.

**I hope you like this chapter of Rosalie, I wanted her to be different from the rest of the servants. But besides that, don't forget to review and tell me your ideas, it always gives me motivation to write Reversed Life. Not that I don't already have enough drive because I'm bent on finishing this story. See you all at my next chapter, which hopefully will be up soon in the next few days.**


	28. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

**I'll just like to say that this story has gone much farther than I thought it would and all of your reviews are wonderful motivation factors. So thank you, and let's see, what else. What else? I guess there's nothing and since I'm holding up your reading, I'll stop now. R&R readers!**

The sound of mockingbirds trilling told her that the world was up and that she should rise with it as well. Blinking, she rose to her feet, stretching her limbs and taking in her surroundings, and saw the forest of Du Weldenvarden, instead of Ellesméra. Turning her head slightly, she saw Eragon laid out against the ground, still asleep. She was about to shake him awake when she remembered what Bard had told her before they had departed from Farthen Dûr. Eragon was not a morning person.

Bending down, Arya took in the sight of him sleeping. He looked more _peaceful_ asleep, she thought. It was hard to mix the concept of a peaceful Eragon with the rather detached Eragon that she had come to know. Reaching forward to wake him, she immediately drew her hand back when she felt his cold and clammy skin. Arya hadn't been in contact with sickness much in her life. Being an elf made it harder for illness to befall her, and even during the seventy years with the Varden, she rarely associated with humans besides those in high ranking positions. But she knew from first glance that what ailed Eragon wasn't a simply a cold.

Bringing forth her hand again, she placed it on his forehead. Despite his cold skin, he was burning inside. "Eragon . . ." murmured Arya, gently shaking him, but received no response. The only thing that showed that he was still living was his deep breathing. What made matters worse was that Saphira had left with Eridor in the night to hunt and she knew that the dragons wouldn't be back until night fell. That left her with the task of taking care of Eragon.

"Something is bound to go wrong," she muttered to herself. First thing first; she had to take care of his temperature. Removing a piece cloth in her pack, she went to the stream and soaked it in the clear, cool water before wringing it damp. Returning to Eragon, she gently laid the cloth on his forehead.

But even that gesture seemed insignificant. He was too sick and it was hard to determine what to do when she didn't even know the illness that seemed to rack his body. She glanced back at his forehead where sweat seemed to be forming as the sun began to reach its height in the sky, pounding heat down on them. It was a risk . . . but . . .

_My mind is my only sanctuary._

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Reaching out with her mind, she pushed forward until she touched his thoughts. Then something strange happened. It was as if she was being pulled from her own body and into his mind.

_It was a strange place, a castle but yet it had no walls. Odd furnishing and decorations stood on the stone floor and hung on the invisible walls. What was this place? But she already knew, this was Eragon's mind. Taking a step, she stopped as everything about her began to shimmer and become distorted. But as fast as it happened, it stopped and she found herself staring at paintings that surrounded her._

_But they weren't paintings . . ._

_The people within them moved and the scenes changed. "Memories?" she wondered. But where was Eragon's presence? He was here somewhere, she was sure of it. But where? Reaching out, Arya tentatively touched one of the moving memories._

_The entire world before her disappeared into a white void. A wall came forth from nowhere and with it blossomed another image, one that almost made her heart stop. It showed a cell, very similar to hers back at Gil'ead, but much darker. A small window stood high on a sleek cement wall and below it were markings of blood. What was going on?_

_The the door burst open and a boy was thrown into the open space. Expecting him to crash into her, her eyes widened when he fell through her body. She was nonexistent in the memory. The boy lunged for the closing door with a cry of despair. "No! Let me out!"_

_But the door slammed shut, and encased the cell in darkness, the only light that penetrated the dark space coming from the small window. The little boy turned and she felt her shock heighten at the sight of Eragon. She had had an inkling as to who it was but to see his young face, his innocent eyes . . ._

_He was bruised and bloody, his brown hair a mess, and his clothes, which seemed to resemble very fine silk, were dirtied and torn in a few places and frayed at others. He glanced at the window with a defeated look in his eyes before sitting with his back against the opposite wall, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs as if to ward away his enemies and fears._

_Arya stared at the Eragon before her, defenseless and fearful. Letting her feet take her next to him, she squatted down next to him, watching him, try to ward off tears. A broken whisper lodged itself in her mind. "I'm all alone . . ."_

_And that brought back painful memories. Fäolin falling . . . Glenwing following as they fell to the ground. She wanted to reach out to touch him but the image began to fade again, distorting and changing until she watched the boy Eragon struggling against bonds that were restraining his arms to a table, making it seem like a crypt._

"_STOP!" he screamed in horror, and she saw the scene clearly with her own eyes. Strange people wearing dark robes and demented eyes stood over him, one at his head, holding what looked to be as a small carving knife. What was happening?_

_Her body reacted before her mind could get a grip on the situation. She watched as the knife went down, a piercing scream of pure agony echoing continuously through the room. The stream of blood that seem to drip from the table, the sound of the knife slicing and squishing a part of Eragon. And that object in particular was Eragon's right eye. She lunged, expecting to tackle the man, but instead went straight through him._

_Steadying her feet, she turned to see the memory changing yet again. But the horror of the last one was still inflicted in her mind. His . . . eye . . . she had seen many horrors in her life but this was one of the few that made her weak at the knees. A child being tortured, pleading against his torturers. Resisting the strong urge to vomit, she took in the scene that now stood before her._

_His right eye was wrapped with a white bandage that span around his head and back. He was kneeling in a hall filled with bodies, and she recognized them. She had just seen the dark robed people torturing him. But they lay bloody and some were unrecognizable from the infliction of injuries._

_Eragon knelt in the pool of blood, a sword thrown haphazardly to the side, his hands raised before his face, trembling. His eyes dilated with fear and he looked half crazed. "W-what have I done? I-I-I—"_

_At a loss for words, he let out a demented scream, his hands coming to clutch painfully at his hair. And yet again the room began to change and this time, she found herself staring out into a sunset that turned the sky a beautiful orange and the ocean dancing with flames. A city port no doubt._

_Clunk._

_Arya turned her head to see Eragon in his armor walk forward until the water was lapping at his metal boots. His helm was nowhere to be seen. His eyes held a faraway look, his right eye bearing no trace of injury at all. It was silent as she stood beside him but that moment was enough. The silence spoke more than just mere words within themselves._

_And finally he spoke. "Freedom . . . as wide as the horizon stretches . . ."_

_And suddenly it became a blanket of white and before her stood Eragon. And she had no doubt within her mind that this person was real for he was staring at her with such anger, he must be looking directly at her. "What do you think you are doing?" he snapped, his eyes burning._

_She felt herself stiffen without meaning to. Arya didn't take that tone well, with anyone. "I wanted to just touch your mind to feel for your presence . . . but a rather strange magic seemed to have pulled me into your memories."_

_His anger still hadn't sedated as he stood before her. "You have no right! This is my sanctuary!"_

"_And it still is for I have naught to take from it!" she snapped back. He looked like he was about to retort but kept his lips firmly shut as if afraid of saying something overly offending. Trying to bring about something much less personal, Arya glanced about her. "Where are we?"_

"_My mind." He said rather scathingly, still angered at her intrusion, apparently. She nodded. But the difference in it, the strange quality, piqued her curiosity to no extent. She would have to ask later when he wasn't angry. "Now, what was the matter that was so important to the extent that you needed to intrude upon my privacy?"_

_She stared at him, at a loss for words. Did he not know how sick his body was? How the illness has racked him to the point that his skin was ice cold and a shocking white as well? Or perhaps this was a side effect of what was happening to him. "You're sick." Arya spoke deliberately and slowly. He nodded. She continued. "You haven't awoken and I thought to contact you . . . but instead, I was pulled within your mind."_

_He frowned and suddenly the white void began to change into an endless green meadow, filled with beautiful rain lilies. "I see," he said, quite put out. Not looking at her, he began to stroll leisurely through the flowers. "Beautiful, aren't they?"_

_He was avoiding it, she thought as she followed him. There was something that he was hiding from her. "Your mind is a very odd place," she said._

_He shrugged. "At times, I find it easier to close myself from reality and wander forever in meadows of flowers. But I must admit, I've never had another person in my mind like you are right now."_

_She raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to continue talking. "It's an odd feeling to know that another being is standing in your thoughts and memories. Some of which aren't too pleasant," said Eragon, and her mind instantly came back to his right eye being stabbed by a carving knife. "My eye is fine, I can still see with it."_

"_Can you?" asked Arya, not sure herself. He nodded. They continued in silence in the never ending meadow. Neither knowing what else to say to the other. Eventually, Arya broke the silence. "I am sorry for intruding into your mind."_

"_You did it out of concern, I can see that. But whatever you saw stays between us, Arya," he said, turning to stare at her. She nodded._

"_You have my word." He turned to face forward and the meadow began to shift and change, revealing the sea. He turned to smile at her as she took in the beauty of the water. The ocean, she had always loved the ocean._

"_Elves love the ocean, do they not?" he asked. She nodded. "Why is that, do you think?"_

"_I do not know myself," said Arya truthfully. "But it is beautiful, is it not?"_

"_It is." The waves lapped at their boots and she had to admit that even the water felt real within his mind despite the fact that it was a creation of his thoughts. "Have you ever thought about leaving Alagaësia?"_

_Surprise followed his words. She turned to stare at him but he refused to meet her eyes directly. Leave Alagaësia? Why would she leave her forest and her people? It was true that elves did arrive in this land, but that was far and long ago. Now, she and her people were one with the forest in which they grew to love. Leaving was beyond her thoughts. "I've yet to think a single thought of such."_

_He nodded. His eyes still holding a faraway look. "Maybe that is because you have a reason to stay."_

"_You have your mother and father." Arya said quietly. He shook his head._

"_Not for long." He tilted his head to the side to stare at her from the corner of his eyes with a sad smile. "How depressing it is, to watch your mother and father age while remaining unbound by the grips of time."_

_She didn't reply. How could she say something to that? It was true, as a rider, he and Saphira were bonded physically and mentally. He would not age as mortals would; he would live in her people's realm. Longer than most races. Without the fear of time. "I've been thinking about something."_

"_And what is that?" Arya said, prompting him to continue._

"_That death isn't a punishment but a release from the burden of living." That could be put into question, Arya thought. Death was a state of being, a natural way of life. Nothing could be untouched by its grip and yet, everything tried to elude it. The only difference in death was that some died sooner and others died later. "Because in death there is no pain."_

"_There is nothing in death," said Arya._

_Eragon shrugged. "We don't know that . . . but one thing that I do know is that there is great pain in living."_

"_Not always." She argued._

"_No, not always." He agreed. "But there is enough."_

"_Do you wish to die?" Arya asked quietly, turning her body towards him. He stared at her, and then turned his body to face her as well. His expression was solemn and his eyes portrayed a deep sadness and pain._

"_I would be lying to you if I said no," he replied just as quietly. But then he smiled. "But I don't plan to die anytime soon. I'll continue to play fate's game for as long as I am able, and protect those whom I love to the best of my abilities. That's why I'm still living."_

_Impulsively, she reached out to lay a hand on the side of his face. He looked surprise but didn't back down from her touch. "It isn't called living unless you live for yourself, Eragon."_

_He chuckled. "Then I must have been dead ever since I became a rider."_

_She gave him a faint smile. "I wouldn't call it such." She continued thinking, returning to her serious self. "But a day will come when you will find it in yourself to live for you and no other, I'm sure of it."_

"_Then I will try to live to see that day." He promised. She nodded and pulled her hand away, turning to stare back at the horizon._

"_And yet, you are already sick and near the verge of death itself," said Arya. She turned her head to stare into his brown eyes. "You must tell me what to do Eragon, or it may be too late to save you."_

_He considered her for a moment, before nodding. "You need to bring me to Master Oromis. And hurry."_

_She was about to ask him his sickness but her spoke before her. "I can't tell you what ails me, Arya. But know this; I will not lose to it easily."_

"_But—"_

"_Do you trust me?"_

_Her response was immediate. "I do."_

"_Then please, bring my body to Oromis if I do not awaken from my stupor. Tell him to contact me through my mind."_

_Beating down her curiosity, she nodded. Oromis... she would just have to trust her master in saving Eragon's life. Thinking of Oromis brought her first priority back to hand; getting Eragon back to Ellesméra. She had to leave his mind and make haste — for if he was as sick as she thought he was, then time was of the essence._

"_How do I leave?" she asked Eragon. He didn't answer her but motioned for her to stare back at the horizon. She did. As the two of them gazed out of the water, the air before them began to shimmer and distort. A brilliant white light sparked before them, before blossoming as if trying to eat the vacant space, and shifting into a doorway._

"_All you need to do is walk through and it will lead you back to your own mind." She nodded and turned to leave._

_Arya was stopped when Eragon's hand came out to grip her own. She turned to give him a questioning look. "Thank you, for coming for me."_

_She nodded and sent him a small smile because she lacked words for a response. It was enough, though, and he slowly loosened his fingers from her wrist. Staring at him for another second, she turned towards the doorway and left, leaving Eragon in her wake._

_It was a strange experience as she passed through the door. It was as if she was being thrown back into her mind and body._

Rapidly blinking, Arya turned to stare at the person before her. And to her alarm, a sheen of sweat covered his face, and a slight tremor ran through his body. Glancing towards the sky, Arya was shocked to find that it was already noon. She had been in his mind for that long of a period.

Glancing back at Eragon, she placed a hand across his forehead. It was still burning. He gave a light cough in his sleep.

She was racing against time to save his life.

**Anyways, I hoped you like this chapter. Thanks to all of you readers for keep on reading! I'll try my best to update really soon! And I'm still undecided about stopping the bonus chapters but that doesn't mean you can't review! Hehe...well anyways, I'll see you all at the next chapter! Thanks to everyone!**


	29. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

**Finally! The next chapter of the story. :) I know it took longer than my usual updating time and for that I'm sorry. But it's here and I know you're all very anxious to continue reading! :) And thank you for hitting the 500 mark, it makes me very happy to see that you all care for this story. R&R.**

_The sound of mockingbirds filled the empty space with a form of life, whether it was imaginary or not. His mind was peaceful in that way. It could be what he wanted it to be. Eragon sighed as he sat in the meadow of rain lilies. It was beautiful, what his mind could conjure up. But despite its beauty, he would rather be back in his own body then trapped here. Because past this barrier was pure darkness._

_It was hard to admit but his mind was starting to spin out of control. Or maybe he was just losing control of his own mind. He wasn't sure. But the ability to control his own body was becoming harder and harder. If it kept going on, then he would have to leave Ellesméra. He was stupid to actually leave the Empire in the first place. After trying so hard to break free of Galbatorix's grip, he couldn't survive without the Black King's help. Not even Oromis could save him._

"_That's right." He turned to find himself standing before him. But this person wasn't him, rather the image of him. His shadow. The way he held himself spoke of conceit and the cold gleam in his eyes portrayed that of a killer. "You can't be saved now that you left our master, Eragon."_

"_Master?" said Eragon with a sharp ring to his voice. "Since when have I knelt and acknowledged him my master? He was my king."_

"_Ah, but a king is a master isn't he?" said Shadow Eragon with a smirk. "You serve them the same way, don't you?"_

_He didn't answer but watched as the shadow of himself began to move about the meadow his bare feet killing the flowers and leaving a dark patch everywhere he went. "You bowed your head to him, didn't you? You called him your majesty, and that is no different than calling him your master."_

"_He was never my master. He was only yours," retorted Eragon._

_His shadow nodded, turning to smile coldly at him revealing a pair of mismatched eyes. Blue and violet. This was the only point in which they didn't match. "That's right, and what a kind master he has been."_

"_Kind?" said Eragon. "Would you call your state kind?"_

"_Oh, yes," said Shadow Eragon. "When the magic breaks, you won't have enough power in you to save your own soul."_

"_You wouldn't know that," said Eragon. His shadow laughed._

"_I know," said Shadow Eragon. "Look at you now, reduced to nothing. Your own mind rebelling against you. If you can't control something that your essence is made of, how can you control your body?"_

"_I don't need you to mock me," snapped Eragon, earning another laugh._

"_Oh, are we getting angry?" mocked shadow Eragon. "It's just too bad that Arya has left. Such a beautiful elf, don't you agree, Eragon?"_

_He didn't reply. "Of course you would, because you and I are one and the same. Those emerald green eyes, her luscious ebony hair. And let's not forget her rather pleasing figure."_

"_That's enough!" said Eragon angrily. "I've had enough conversation with you. Go back to your tomb!"_

"_Go back?" repeated shadow Eragon. "Go back?" He laughed. "I don't think you understand. I'm so happy like this. Why would I want to go back?"_

"_If you refuse to leave, then I shall make you," said Eragon, "Don't violate a place that is sacred to me." Holding out his hand, he watched as a blue flame began to appear before spreading out in a straight line. The flames began to mold and harden into a silver shine revealing a sword. Gripping it tightly, he swung it in a circle, crossing his arms expertly before him, the sword parallel to the slant of his body as he bent his knee._

"_Then let us see which one of us is the stronger now," said shadow Eragon losing his smile to be replaced by a cold expression. A sword appeared in his hand, born from a violet flame. His stance was much different. He left his entire body open and his sword down by his side._

_They stared at one another for a moment, before the two moved, both of them running for the other. Swinging his sword in an upwards slash, he gritted his teeth when it was meet by the other Eragon's own sword._

_Moving back from the hit, he swung again only to have it met blade for blade. He should've known that it wouldn't be easy fighting his shadow. They were one in the same, a clone of each other. Predicting one another's move wasn't going to be difficult. Jumping, he turned with his sword arm outstretched, spinning in the air, he moved his blade in the circular direction, only to have it blocked for every hit. Jumping backwards, he barely brought up his sword to deflect the hit._

"_For someone who is sick, you fight very well," said Shadow Eragon. "Some fun for once in my imprisonment!"_

_Stumbling as he was forced backwards with a shove, he regained his balance in time to bring his sword back up to meet Shadow Eragon's. The sparks that came forth showed how intensely they were fighting. "Imprisonment?" said Eragon. "It wouldn't be this way if you didn't bend to every one of Galbatorix's whims!"_

"_Bend?" growled Shadow Eragon. "No, he has promised me a future!"_

"_Future?" repeated Eragon. "Don't give me that! You call this a future?"_

_Dodging a swipe to the head, he shuffled his feet backwards, swaying lightly to the side, dodging blow after blow. "As long as I listen to his majesty's orders, I'll open a way to my future!"_

"_You want a future to live like me? To take control of me?" said Eragon, returning the attacks. "Don't make me laugh! That isn't called living!"_

_His words were getting to his shadow, the slight falter in his movements showing that Eragon was gaining the advantage. "You aren't living! You're just a shadow of me! Even if you do win, what will you gain?" said Eragon, as he swept his sword arm upwards. "He'll just use you as a puppet!"_

"_You don't understand!" roared shadow Eragon. "I want to be alive! I want to be able to feel, and as long as I remove you, then I will be able to live!"_

"_You fool!" The two of them made for one another, their swords raised, not faltering in the steps. "If only you could think for yourself!"_

"_If only you weren't in my way!"_

_Pulling back his left hand as the edge of their blades met, Eragon raised it to reveal a growing ball of sapphire energy. He'll finish this once and for all. This humiliation of not being in control of his mind and body. Of the fact that despite being halfway across Alagaësia, Galbatorix could still affect him._

"_Don't be idiotic! Using magic in your own mind!" shouted shadow Eragon as he brought up his own hand to fend off the attack, a pulse of violet energy forming. "You could kill yourself!"_

"_As long as I can rid myself of you, then I'll do whatever it takes! I'd rather meet death's waiting arms than let you take what's mine!"_

_Releasing the magic, the sapphire light met the violet one and the result was a backlash of energy. Being thrown off his feet, he felt his breath leave him when he landed rather roughly on the ground. Suddenly, his body began to spasm from agony. The pain of it was scorching. His mind was damaged from the blast, and he was paying the price for bringing magic within the body._

_Trying to reign in his seizing limbs, Eragon could barely make out the form of his shadow lying on the ground, clutching his head in the same amount of pain and agony. It was a dirty trick, but he couldn't let his shadow win. No matter what. Even if it meant killing himself to do it. But Saphira…he couldn't abandon her._

_Trying to grasp control of his mind and body, he groaned painfully when he tried to get to one foot. The pain was immeasurable. His body was refusing to corporate with him. It was pitiful really . . . how his shadow desired so much to be real._

_But without a heart, his shadow could never achieve that dream._

_Galbatorix had given him a body and a mind, but not a heart. Feeling was out of his reach. Or at least that was what Eragon had assumed. Struggling to get to his feet, he panted watching in disbelief as shadow Eragon rose too, his hand a glowing violet. More magic?_

_His mental capacity couldn't withstand the damage. Dodging a blast of violet, he felt pain erupt in his mind. Then something began to happen that he didn't expect. A golden dust began to rain down from the endless blackness that surrounded them, and along with it, the fragments of his mind._

_Gripping his head, Eragon let out a shout of pain as his mind began to collapse into fragments. Memories torn asunder, thoughts jumbled together. Falling to his knees, he couldn't minimize the pain he was going through no matter how hard he tried. Was this the end for him? Was he going to die?_

_But he never even got a chance to speak his heart yet . . . not to his father nor his mother. Just thinking about all of those times in which he and his mother couldn't talk without the limitations of the pain and torment that he had went through. Of the guilt that she couldn't protect him. The thought of him not talking to them again made his heart pound furiously in his chest. No!_

_This wasn't going to be the end of him. He wasn't going to lose here. Not after everything he had went through. Not after how long he fought to break free from Galbatorix and the nonexistent life that he led until now._

_It was almost nonexistent as it crept up on him — an emerald light bursting forth from the shadows, glowing brighter and brighter until it rose up like a towering wall, encircling him and protecting him._

"_Emerald light?" muttered Eragon to himself, feeling the pain slowly drain away. Getting to his feet, he watched as the fragment of his mind began to weave itself together again with the aid of another blue light. "Could it be Saphira and Arya?"_

_He turned as the emerald and blue light began to engulf him, like a warm blanket. Suddenly feeling rather drowsy, he didn't fight the blackness that engulfed him._

_. . . . . . ._

_Falling . . ._

_He was falling . . ._

_And this time, there was no one to catch him._

"_Eragon, that's enough, sweetheart." Tiredly blinking his eyes open, he frowned, wearily staring about himself. A field of flowers, he was lying in a field of flowers. Clovers to be exact. With a groan, he moved into a sitting position._

_He turned towards the sound of the voice. Sitting with a young boy was his mother. She wore a beautiful dress._

_Those were the good times._

_Until he became a dragon rider, he was happy. Leaving with his mother, being able to feel her warmth, meant everything to him. But what happened to them these past years? Was it his fault? Or was it his mother's? The resentment he had long lived with, the sadness. . ._

_Ever since that unfaithful day, he couldn't find it in him to talk to his mother like he used to. And that was when the barriers slowly grew, growing bigger and bigger by the years. Did she blame herself? Eragon didn't blame her._

_Though maybe it was because she had suffered just as much as he did, having to see her son struggle. Not being able to protect him._

I wish that I . . .

"Eragon . . ." He frowned, that voice, it didn't belong anywhere in his mind. "Eragon . . ."

Tiredly blinking, he frowned when he opened his eyes to the ceiling of what seemed to be a cave. What was going on? Turning his head slightly, he jumped at the sight of Arya sitting on the ground beside him, studying him intently.

Moving into a sitting position, he observed their surroundings. From the looks of it, the cave wasn't overly large, just big enough for them and the dragons to fit. From the sound of pouring water and clashes from the outside, he deducted that there was a large storm rolling about out there.

That made everything the more dangerous. As long as he was with Arya and there was a chance of acting up, he was afraid he could potentially harm her. This wasn't a good idea. "How are you feeling?"

Eragon glanced at her for a moment. "Tired." He answered, trying to avoid looking into her eyes.

She nodded. They sat there for a moment, neither speaking until it was Arya who broke the silence. "Was something wrong?"

He gave her a questioning look. "You were seizing in pain not long ago and when I went to help you, I couldn't reach your mind."

So that was it. What could he say to her? Saphira refused to interfere with their conversation and opted to speak with Eridor leaving him to think of a reply. But for some reason, his mind wouldn't want to cooperate with him. The internal damage must still be lingering on him.

"I would rather not tell you," said Eragon at last. "I need to speak with Master Oromis first."

"I see." Did she? Eragon wondered. Since Arya was an elf, he knew that she wouldn't visibly pry for information, a trait that he was grateful for as he didn't feel the need to reveal anything to her.

"But I thank you." At her questioning stare, he elaborated. "For saving me, that is."

"There is no need for thanks, I am sure that if you were in the same situation that I was in, you would save my life as well." Her eyes flickered to the ceiling of the cave before returning back to him. "Consider it a debt repaid for what you did for me in Gil'ead."

"Then I will." Eragon nodded. Searching for a change of subject, he glanced outside at the downpour. "How long have we been here?"

"Half a day," said Arya. "When it rains in Du Weldenvarden, it doesn't stop for quite a while. I'm sure that it's storming within Ellesméra at the moment."

"It looks rather severe." Commented Eragon.

She nodded. Keeping his eyes on the rain, Eragon let his mind wander. Rain . . . was it a blessing or was it a curse? He had often wondered about that. It gave life to plants and water to animals, respite to those who live on Alagaësia but it also clouded their sun and made their days colder. When one looked at it from a view point, sometimes what gives blessing is also what makes curses.

"You seem deep in thought," said Arya softly from where she sat next to him.

"Rain . . . what do you think of it?" asked Eragon. She turned to him, her green eyes questioning and curious.

"Rain?"

He nodded.

She sat there deep in thought. "I've always thought of rain a mere product of nature, nothing more, nothing less," she said eventually.

Eragon chuckled. That was right, she was an elf. She wouldn't believe in spiritual thoughts and beliefs. "I should've predicted that you would give that answer," said Eragon.

She arched an eyebrow. "And what do you think of rain?"

He shrugged. "I guess it depends on what I feel of it. Sometimes I look at it as a blessing but other times, it almost seems like a curse." He smiled slightly. "At times when I see rain, I often think of myself. Whether being who I am was a blessing because I've gotten to see many people and have Saphira hatch for me. Or was it a curse? Because of my constant struggle to live to today."

"But in the end, it's all the same. After it rains, the sun will come up. Like with my life, after everything is over and down with, I may be able to enjoy its warmth," said Eragon. "Because ever since I became a dragon rider, I've always lived for tomorrow. Just to make it through another day, to continue living. And because of tomorrow, I sacrificed my life today."

Suddenly when a hand reached out to grip his, he nearly jumped, not expecting Arya to do anything of the sort. Her emerald green eyes were bright in the darkness as they seem to pierce his soul. "Then live for today."

He blinked. Live for today? Live for now? But how could he when what he wanted was tomorrow? That what he had desired most in his heart was a future in which he could experience things that he was deprived off? The thought had never occurred to him... and yet for Arya to say something like that. "The future is important but you shouldn't call it a future when what you did yesterday had no meaning to it."

Her words made his eyes widen. And in his heart, he knew that she was true. That living a life without meaning was worthless. That living for the sake of living had no future to it. But how could he live for the present and not worry about the future? About what could possibly happen to him? That sort of thinking, he never thought of it, never let it affect him. But now, when Arya had said it, the words seem to hold a different meaning.

"Eragon." He blinked, focusing as he stared into her eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand. "You and I are friends, so trust me."

**And so, what is happening with Eragon? You'll just have to wait to find out! Hopefully, it won't be too long. :) Besides that I hope you all review and tell me what you think. :) See you next chapter!**


	30. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

**First and foremost I'm so sorry for the prolong delay. I've been having a hard time settling down my life and I just lost the motivation to write my story. But I always remembered the promise about finishing this story and when Inheritance came out (which I am currently reading) I just got the motivation to do it again. And so I cleared everything off my agenda and sat and typed away for ages. And I would also like to thank all of you who have been reviewing and keeping up my motivations as well as my Beta not giving up on me. Anyway, I know you're all excited so have fun reading and don't forget to review. :)**

If Arya's prediction was to be trusted, the rain was not going to let up anytime soon. But on the third day, it had gotten much better; at least that was what she told him. However, he had not expected to be trekking through the forest underneath a torrent of falling droplets of water. Still, it was better than doing nothing. Easily stepping over roots, he frowned when his boots landed in a rather thick puddle of mud. He _thought_ it was mud anyways.

"It is mud," stated Arya, who was walking ahead of him. She turned her head back to smirk at him: "There is no need to make such a face, Eragon."

"What I do not understand is how you can walk all over the ground and only have mud on the _bottom _of your boots." He muttered, slightly put out at the sight of his black leather boots drenched in mud. Continuing onward, he glanced overhead, the dragons haven't yet left the cave yet, seeing the rather detrimental weather conditions.

The objective was that he and Arya reach Ellesmera in due time and once the weather betters, the dragons would follow. But that was only if everything went according to plan. Lately, however, luck wasn't in his favor. Whatever that was going to happen when he returned to Ellesmera, he would have to try his best to face it. Especially coming face to face with Queen Islanzadi again.

There was no way around it; he had to tell her the truth.

Her and Oromis.

Sighing, Eragon craned his head to glance up through the small gaps the leaves, which promptly resulted in a raindrop falling on his cheek. But how should he even begin to explain? Would they believe him or would they turn their backs?

"You seem to be deep in thought." Arya said. It was not a question, but rather a statement of fact. She paused in her consistent stride to turn and look at him, before turning away and resuming their journey.

"I was just thinking about some things." Eragon replied, vaguely. He did not want to start explaining himself just yet. Everything seemed confusing to him in his current state.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Very," said Eragon with a nod, knowing that she probably wasn't going to see it. "My illness has long since passed."

"That is good to know."

He glanced ahead of them. "How far along are we?"

Stopping to judge the distance, Arya turned to face him. "If my estimation is correct, by night we shall be within the outskirts of Ellesmera. But I am sure you don't plan on returning to the city first."

"No, I'm not," agreed Eragon, "how much further is Oromis's hut?"

"For that even I am not sure," admitted Arya with a slight frown, "It might take us days without the help of the dragons."

"Days, huh?" he frowned. That wasn't good enough. Especially not now when his mind was in the condition it is. He fell into pace with Arya, thinking to himself as they walked in a comfortable silence. It had been a few months since he'd left the Empire, and the distance he was from Galbatorix was also part of the problem.

As he walked, his vision flickered before him, for a moment causing him to stagger slightly. Regaining his sight, he steadied himself. Not again. He couldn't afford to lose control anymore around Arya or he could fatally wound her.

"Are you feeling unwell?" asked Arya as she came to stand beside him.

He shook his head. "No, just lost my balance is all." He lied. Saphira wasn't around to keep him from falling apart, which made the situation all the direr. He needed a distraction of some sort; something to keep his mind from unraveling at the ends like a ball of yarn. As they continued walking he felt himself slowly smile as something came to mind. It would be embarrassing to ask but he was going to take the chance anyway.

"Arya," she turned to him and gave him a curious stare. "Would you like to indulge me with a game of words?"

She nodded, her expression growing more curious. "The rules are simple," Eragon explained, "I'll start off in a category and say a word pertaining to it, and you have to find a word that also relates to the same category as well but it has to start with the last letter of my word. For example," he cast for a subject, "the category is birds, vulture."

She responded in kin, her eyes gleaming. "Eagle."

Eragon nodded, "That's all there is to it. Now let us start." Feeling a bit of competiveness rise up in him, he cast around for a category. "Hue: azure."

"Emerald." Her lips were curved in a faint half smile.

And that was how their simple game went. It distracted him that much was certain. For at times Arya would shoot off a word with such a ridiculous ending that it would take him a while to figure out what to say in response. And he had no doubt in his mind that she enjoyed seeing him struggle on the spot for more than fifteen minutes. By the time they were done, it was already well into the day. Night was almost falling.

"Let's stop here." Eragon said as he glanced up at the sky.

Arya nodded her mood lighter from besting him in the simple game that they played. Or it seemed that way to him, but he couldn't tell for sure. "This area seems like a good place as any to rest."

Without further ado, he settled onto the ground as Arya went to collect some firewood to make a small but warming fire. He raised a brow. "Why don't you use magic?" asked Eragon.

"I've grown used to doing it like this," she replied as she intricately stacked the wood atop each other. "Many humans within the Varden are afraid of magic. And after seventy years of living amongst them makes me grow to forget the ease in which to accomplish something by using magic."

He nodded. In a way, that did make sense. He watched as she lit the fire with the soft murmur of a word before the wood sparked. Within seconds, they had a nice crackling fire to gather warmth from.

As he sat there contemplating what Arya had just said, he began to grow curious at her past experiences. "How did you feel?"

She raised a brow at his question. He backtracked. "About living amongst humans?"

"How do _you _feel about living amongst elves?"

Eragon shrugged it was an honest question. How did he feel about living with the elves? A race so ancient and mythical it seemed more legend than reality. He could remember when he was a child he had read about their existence before he actually met them. It had really intrigued him as to how it was there was not even a glimpse of them. And now to be living with them seemed almost…

"You might not believe it," Eragon said softly, "but as a child I've always dreamed of Du Weldenvarden." He stared at the bright crackles of the fire. "In stories and books, I've read about it, a lush green forest that was a haven to the elves." A haven from Galbatorix.

"And what do you think of it now?" asked Arya from where she sat opposite of him. He didn't say, for he didn't know anymore. "It may surprise you how different we were before the fall of the riders. Now…even I find it somewhat odd to be around them again."

"Seven decades is a long time, even by your standards." Said Eragon, "You never answered my question though."

She remained silent for a while, giving him the impression that she might not ever answer his question. Then after a moment, she began to talk, her voice soft. "The first day I stood in the presence of so many humans, I thought I was standing amongst the midst of baboons."

He chuckled lightly, not expecting that as an answer from her, but could somewhat understand where she was coming from with that. "It was like an uncivilized nation compared to my people. The men smelled of sweat and gore and the women abided by a ridiculous rule of domesticity. The dependence one had on the other was nothing I've seen before. Growing up in Ellesmera, I've learned of various ideals and cultures but none as off-balancing as you humans."

Eragon couldn't help from smiling at her way of thinking. It seemed that once she got started on the topic, she couldn't let it go that easily. "But I've also come to learn many things that are never present here." Her gaze softened. "A strong bond of friendship between comrades, the love siblings had for one another always doting with affection, the open display of love amongst the young, a mother's love for her children…"

"Due in part of our short life span," said Eragon. "We die and conceive much easier than most of the other races here in Alagaesia."

"So it would seem." Arya agreed as she traced runes in the small patch of dirt beside her. "But I've always felt out of place there. The difference between our races was so great that it was hard to understand at first."

The fire crackled loudly as Eragon tossed a few blades of grass into it. Staring at the blades that remained in his fingers an idea occurred to him. He picked some blades of grass around him and began to weave them together as Arya continued speaking.

"It all seemed to come naturally to you," she said as if finally able to get a great burden off of her chest. "You didn't have to work at being who you were. There was no strict rule on mannerism in the presence of others. No need to give round about answers. There was a kindness that even strangers could feel."

"They in turn became used to my presence and the presence of my companions. We were always treated with respect and admiration when in truth we should be admiring them. Who else was fighting the brunt of this war for so long? Who else was it that stole the eggs from Uru'baen? Certainly not us."

"A quality that is somewhat of a flaw in us," Eragon said as he weaved the blades of grass between his fingers. "A capacity for a reckless amount of courage."

"Even so," Arya said her voice strong with conviction, "Though we may be talented in magic and skilled in swordsmanship-"

"And knowledgeable about the world." Eragon added.

She nodded, not fazed when he'd interrupted her as if deep in thought. "It is humans who can transcend God."

He stopped, momentarily caught off guard about what she'd said. What was Arya talking about? Her emerald green eyes rose to his bright ones. "Elves, dwarves, and sometimes even dragons, we don't see the need to prove anything, to do anything if it is out of our power. The resistance against Galbatorix was only strongest on the front of the humans. All we did is provide the supplies necessary and hide when we are stronger and more long-lived than humans were. It should've been we who robbed Galbatorix of his egg, who should've struck down the last of the Forsworn. But we did not. And we left these tasks to humans to accomplish, and they did so without the need of either our help or our magic."

"Why is that?" she spoke now more to herself than to him. "It was because of their emotions. Because of their short lives that propelled them to such achievements. Humans can make the impossible possible, look at Galbatorix for example. It's not a matter of rules or popular opinion that matters to them but what they believe is to be true in their hearts. And eventually they will become the victor in a struggle such as this."

"You've put much thought into this," observed Eragon as he continued his weaving. "I would've never thought of it that way before you spoke of it to me."

"I've had more time to dwell on this than you have," said Arya as she returned to stare at the flames. "I've seen things that you've never before seen, heard things that most will never hear. It has given me new perspectives on the outlook of life."

"I've always believed that one day I would be free of Uru'baen with Saphira and my mother," said Eragon as stared as his hands weaving the blades of grass. "I've always thought that it was a pointless dream. A passing though that would be carried away with the wind if I dwelled too much on it…but has it not come to pass? And so I too believe as you've said that humans can transcend not only God but their own sufferings and keep holding on to hope."

"Look at where it has gotten us," Eragon pointed out. "Three riders against Galbatorix in such a short span of time. Through all of the grief and sorrow that this war will bring to us by the conclusion of it, we'll greet a new dawn. With the hope for a better future."

She nodded. Finished with his object of fascination, he whispered a word in the ancient language and watched as it flew over to Arya. It was a small dragon made from grass that took flight in the air. A sorry comparison to Saphira and Eridor but he felt accomplished of himself more so than he did during anything else.

He watched as she reached up a hand to let it land on her upturned palm. It gave a roar that seemed like a squeak compared to what Saphira could do. He watched as it traveled the length of Arya's hand and to both of their amusement, curled up on her hand and refused to move anywhere else.

"That's odd," Eragon said as Arya placed it on the ground beside her despite its small yelp of protest.

"Usually when you animate an object, it takes on the mirror personality as the magician who'd cast the spell," explained Arya. He frowned not knowing whether or not to take that as an insult or compliment. "It could use some improvement."

"Thanks," said Eragon dryly. She nodded.

After her rather deep confession, he saw her in a new light. She wasn't just the princess of the elves or a fellow rider but to him he saw her for who she truly was and what she truly believed and for that reason, he admired her and what was more, he felt a strong desire to always stand by her. No matter what. He had never felt that way before towards others besides his mother, Saphira, and his servants he had to admit.

"Eragon," he turned towards Arya's voice. "Have you ever given any thought to Murtagh as a rider?"

He frowned, not expecting that sort of question from Arya. But to be honest, he didn't think that much of Murtagh since he'd arrived at the Varden. He hated his brother's simpleton attitude and foolish questions, but that was to be expected. Taking his silence as a refusal to answer her question, Arya grew stiff. "Forgive me if I overstepped any boundaries, Eragon."

He shook his head, "That's not it." He searched for words to describe it to her. "I don't know what I think of Murtagh. I've hated him for as long as I could remember. So it's odd to think of him as such." He thought more on it. "I believe that if we were to switch places, he would be no different than I would have been. But as a rider, he has come a long way."

He thought of the scar that Durza had left on Murtagh's back and felt remorse. "And I wish I could've done something about his wound." He breathed out. "If only I killed Durza before the battle."

"He isn't as weak as you think him to be," said Arya with a quick glance at the sleeping grass dragon. "You may not see it as clearly but he is trying his best to come on par with the both of us."

"No doubt that he's feeling insecure about his own abilities." Said Eragon with a soft sigh. "He'll see it eventually…he'll understand soon…"

Would Eragon be around long enough to see his brother finally reach the end of his long and arduous training to see the fruit of his labor? Maybe not. The way his mind was going, he might go crazy with madness before he would be able to see it happen and done with. But even though he didn't want to admit it to anyone, he hoped that Murtagh would be able to overcome the obstacles in his way and emerge newly found.

"Arya, can I ask you a favor?"

She nodded, her emerald eyes questioning. "I know I'm not in any place to request it of you after what I did, but…" he fought for words. "Help Murtagh for me, I don't want to see him become anything like I am." Unfit to help his friends, his family.

Arya stared at him for a moment and he thought that she was going to deny him but she slowly nodded. "I'll try my best…but it would be more effective if there was someone else watching as well."

He nodded, grateful. "I'll be doing my best as well." He hated to admit it, but he was worried for Murtagh. If he didn't make it through, he wanted Murtagh to be able to. Unconsciously, unaware that Arya was watching he brought his hand up to his right eye. Was it going to last before he left Ellesmera? Or would it fade?

Nevertheless, he had to try his hardest. He owed the people he cared about that much. He wasn't going to give up and die on the spot. Never. Not like how he thought before. He was going to survive. No matter what. Lowering his hand, he bowed his head towards Arya in a show of gratitude. "Eka elrun ono," said Eragon. _I thank you._

Her gaze softened. "It is but little consequence, Eragon."

"Still, I-" he stopped short. He had never had the need to rely on another before and this was so new to him, he didn't know where to begin.

"It is getting late," Arya said to save him from discomfort. "We should sleep; there is a long way to travel without the dragons to help us until the weather dies down."

"Yes," Eragon nodded grateful. He laid down on the soft ground, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Arya extinguished the flames before she too went to rest in her dream like state. And for some unknown reason, his heart clenched with longing. Eragon shook his head and turned over to sleep, letting his mind and body relax. He still had a long way to go.

**So what did you think of the chapter? I thought it was a pretty good heart to heart conversation but the bigger plot is just getting revealed. And I'm going to enjoy typing it for you all to read. Anyway I have good news, because I've worked out my temporary job that I really love as an assistant in mechanical engineering and college life everything has been going smoothly for the past month. Which means I will be likely to continue my regular updates which WILL NOT span five months but about two weeks. **


	31. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

**I'm back again! I know it's a pretty fast update, that's just because Thanksgiving is coming up and I'm about to get ready and go on break. But anyways, just some things I'll like to address. One is that the dragons aren't mentioned much because of the plot of the story which will be revealed soon. But once it is, it will be dragon power. Two, I'm still going to write about the time travel Fanfic but only after I'm done with this one. Besides that, I just finished Inheritance and it was a good book, I was just disappointed in the ending I guess. I won't say anymore because I don't want to spoil it for anyone but anyways, happy reading!**

For the next few days, it seemed as if the weather was getting worse. It only served to disgruntle him even more than he already was, while Arya, though slightly annoyed with the constant winds and occasional downpour, showed no discomfort. It seemed to fit her to be out in nature instead of the high stone walls of Farthen Dur. It felt odd for him to say it, but he felt happy for her. He couldn't claim to know her before or during her capture, but he was sure that after being freed, she was much more relaxed and carefree. In that sense, he could compare to her. Ever since he left the accursed city of Uru'baen, he had felt much more alive.

One particular day when it was storming rather hard, he had ended up slipping on a puddle and falling into a stream that he didn't see at first, and would have been washed away were it not for his quick reflexes. Arya had laughed at his mishap, describing it, and him, as clumsy. Normally, if it were anyone else, he would've snapped a response of a few rather rude phrases, but he refrained as it was Arya who was laughing. He didn't mind, for some reason, that she found her happiness at his expense.

He took in a deep breath, letting the smell of fresh air and the different odors around him to float through his nose and to his brain. One good thing about a storm: it also smelled so nice and fresh afterwards. Or at least, it seemed that was the case to him. Eragon couldn't tell whether or not Arya would agree with him, but she looked rather glad for the sun to finally regain its position high in the sky, chasing the dark and gloomy clouds away. Saphira and Eridor would soon catch up to them, and from that point, their trip to Oromis's hut would be fast approaching. He didn't know whether or not he should be glad at that prospect.

"The weather is rather nice today." Said Eragon conversationally, glad that his boots were rid of the disgusting muck that had clung to it on days on end.

"That it is," agreed Arya as she guided Eragon up a rather steep hillside that seemed to disrupt the even balance of the ground. He easily climbed it with her, fatigue not a problem, for he was well rested from last few days. His illness was held at bay with odd and puzzling words games that would form between them and also by the stories that Arya would occasionally tell him to fill in the time. The latter he found more interesting and at the same time, entertaining.

There was one story that he found particularly riveting. As they walked, she spoke of a young man granted with the power of beauty by a traveling magician whom he had saved. And for some reason, the majority of the stories she told him usually ended with a sad note or a rather ironic one. This particular one was a combination of both.

"Women fell to his feet," Arya said as they walked, "Men revered him and children admired him. Everything was like a dream to him. How could a peasant boy, like he, have so much? Gifts from admirers, love from women all around him, and attention from the whole populace." He nodded, following her as she spoke. "But eventually it began to suffocate him. After some time, he'd begun to see the fake life that he was leading, but by the time he'd realized what had happened to him he was already too deeply involved with it. What the magician had given him was a curse. Overcome with madness, he mutilated himself, carving his skin with a sharp knife and rendered his beauty into a grotesque imitation of what he used to look like. In the end, he fled the city and died in isolation in the woods."

Eragon made a slight face at the ending. He scratched the back of his head, not knowing what to say to the boy's fate. It was rather odd. "That does make sense…" he said slowly. It was true; he could follow what she was saying. But it was rather…

"That is what one should remember: to be cautious when they are endowed with great beauty." Arya said wisely. Eragon raised a brow at her.

"It doesn't seem to be affecting you that much." Eragon observed. He never let it sway him but Arya was undeniably beautiful. Her angled eyes, her long lustrous ebony hair, and slender physique that belied her formidable strength were enough to draw any man to her.

A fleeting emotion flashed in her eyes but it was gone the second after leaving him really wondering whether or not it was there. She turned to face forward waving his comment away dismissively. "You've yet to meet the most beautiful of my kind," said Arya unconcerned with his indirect compliment.

He felt amused at her blatant refusal to accept it. Maybe it was her pride. He couldn't think of anything else that might cause her to refuse. Shrugging to himself, he waited for Arya to speak once more. But when it was evident that she was not going to, he decided to take the lead in the conversation now. "Arya…" she turned to look at him. "I've been meaning to ask you, what does the tattoo on your back represent?"

Her expression became one of seriousness. "It doesn't surprise me that you know about it," said Arya, referring to the time that he had healed her skin after enduring brutalizing torture under Durza. "Not many are wise to its existence so I ask that you refrain from speaking of it to anyone else." He nodded, prompting her to continue. "It is called the yawe and it symbolizes devotion to my race. Those who take up the yawe have dedicated their lives to our cause, an obligation that we don't take lightly to."

That would make sense. After all, Arya was a person who never shirked from her duties. It didn't seem like her and in the little time that he has known her, one trait about her that stood out greatly was her determination and responsibility. But not only did she have a duty to her people, but also the riders, for she was a dragon rider herself. After all the war was finished, and assuming they all survived, which would she choose? It was a thought to contend with. But the more he thought of it, the more he realized that he couldn't answer that question himself. What would he do after this was over? If he was still alive that is. Galbatorix doesn't take too lightly to treason.

"Do you believe we can do this, Arya?" Eragon asked, for the first time sharing his doubts about the war with the Black King. She glanced at him, somewhat caught off guard at his question. Her pace slowed until the two of them came to a stop, facing each other. He waited as she debated his question.

"It is too early to say," she said after a moment. "But the odds are slightly to our advantage don't you agree? We have three—no, _four_ riders against Galbatorix. Once we face him," her eyes flashed. "If we ever do, it will surely give him pause. Other then that, I cannot say, for he no doubt has many devices hidden from view."

Eragon nodded. That was right, she didn't know. He was positive that Islanzadi and Oromis were the only ones that held any knowledge of importance. "I believe," Eragon said quietly as he took the lead "that we can accomplish it. If we don't then the whole of Alagaesia will be deprived of any hope."

"It is a sad thought," Arya said with a sigh. "All the more fitting that we should prepare ourselves against the worst that is to come."

Later that day, Arya refused to go any further until she had a chance to bathe herself of all the dirt and filth from the past days' travel. When she went off to find a small stream to bathe, he decided to cook something for them to eat that night. Before they had left the dragons, Eragon had taken some of the provisions that she had packed with him in case they couldn't find anything to eat. Deciding on onion soup, he brought forth the water from the ground and placed it in the sack that Arya had thoughtfully decided to bring along with her. The last few days, he had let Arya do the cooking, but it was high time he did his share. As he was looking into the water, in a tranquil state of solitude, it began to happen. Without the presence of Arya by his side, there was nothing he could do to distract himself.

As he stared into his reflection, it began to change until he found himself staring at a monster of himself. It looked like him but his eyes were an ice cold blue and violet. He grinned, a menacing grin, baring a row of pointed teeth that resembled an animal. _Eragon…_

He stared at the reflection, unmoving. It couldn't be. _What's wrong, Eragon? Are you afraid? You can't escape me. Do not think that Arya can stop your transformation. It's just beginning. Don't you see it? _Eragon blinked, a sick feeling penetrating his stomach. All around him, the colors began to fade as if it were like a wet painting dripping its colors down the canvas. And instead of a beautiful forest, he was kneeling in a red dimension that twisted and turned around his eyes. Ever shifting, ever changing. He stared at his distorted reflection, wary and cautious of what his mind was doing to him. Or was it reality?

Either way, he couldn't tell for sure. _Don't deny it. You and I are the same. _His image continued. _You can never get rid of me and it's pointless to even entertain such a pathetic thought, _Shadeslayer_._ He was mocking him. But what he was saying were not lies. In fact, Eragon knew that no matter how hard he tried, he could never rid himself of his own inner darkness, a darkness that had warped itself into its own identity. Two identities chained into one body.

_You know it yourself, don't you? _His distorted image continued its grin, ever stretching until he achieved a demented look that was starved with an insatiable hunger. He gasped as a dark stirring erupted in his chest; it was constricting his thoughts and feelings. _Stop lying to yourself Eragon…_

"I'm not." It angered him that his shadow was able to get a response out of him easily.

In return his image laughed at his reflection showing a long red tongue that was uncanny of a human to have. After a moment he quieted, licking his lips with his tongue like Saphira after she ate. _You don't belong here. No, you belong out in the battlefield…you feel it too don't you? The need to kill…the need to rip flesh from flesh…_

"That's enough," he made to stand not in the mood to continue talking to his reflection. The world around him began to become more compressed and distorted as if it was trying to cage him in.

_Rip off this fake skin Eragon. Take up your true role in this reality that is called life and realize your true potential. _

A chord struck in him and he stood there for a while his shoulders slumped his head bowed as that phrase ran through his head without stop. _Rip off this fake skin…_Just thinking about it made his flesh itch. _Take up my true role…_What was he talking about? Not moving from his spot, he stood there, letting the world around him continue to distort and contract. And just a little, the darkness in his heart grew. It was right, he didn't belong here. Not amongst the elves, not even amongst the Varden. There was nowhere he could go besides back to Galbatorix's accursed castle. And he'd rather never return there.

_No! _He couldn't think like this. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath before opening them once more. The emerald green of the leaves dazzled him slightly as they filtered sunlight through their small gaps. It was just his mind playing a hallucination on him that was all. There was nothing else to it. Glancing back at the water that waited for him to cook, he sighed and bent down to boil it. After a while, Arya came to rejoin him, her hair slightly wet but other than that she looked cleaned and refreshed from her bath.

He was sitting cross legged, eating the onion soup he made with the small wooden bowl and spoon that she had packed. Arya sat opposite him as she usually did when they ate and poured herself some soup while glancing at him curiously. "Are you alright Eragon?"

He glanced up at her, trying to feign his normal appearance. "I'm fine, is there something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just-" catching herself she turned to her soup and ever so calmly began to eat. He raised a brow at her sudden change in attitude before finishing his own share. Once done, he set the bowl aside.

"The dragons should catch up after another day's time," observed Eragon as he stared up at the sky. "At least if this weather keeps up." She nodded, a quick movement of her head. "Then we'll make head way to Oromis."

The thought of it made his hand slightly shake, for he knew that Queen Islanzadi would be there waiting as well. And this time, there would be no more secrets nor could there be. As he sat there thinking to himself, he stared up at the leaves around him. For a good part of his life, he had spent it within the confines of stone walls and vaulted rooms. But being out in nature seemed to be doing him some good. For one, he wasn't irritable as easily anymore. He would even go as far to say that he liked living out in the trees. It was peaceful, and wherever he went, there would always be life. He wouldn't be alone.

"Eragon…"

"Hmm?" his eyes met hers, and for some reason he felt utterly relaxed despite knowing of the confrontation that was going to happen soon enough. Maybe he had grown to accept his fate no matter how harsh it was.

"If you don't mind me asking but…how does Galbatorix look like?" her eyes gleamed with a strange light. "I've heard in stories and read through books though I doubt that the descriptions are even close to how he really appears."

Eragon frowned. It was odd that Arya would be the first to ask him such a question. Come to think of it why didn't anyone else ask him? The answer presented itself to him the more he thought of it. Because he was too frightening of a person to approach. "It depends," said Eragon. "Galbatorix doesn't keep an image for long. When he feels that it is time to change himself, he doesn't only change his mind and beliefs but as well as his appearance. Since I've left him, I wouldn't now whether or not he still looks the same. But there's one thing I can tell you, he is as intimidating as the stories say he is."

She nodded, taking it all in with good stride. "So that's how it is." Murmured Arya softly. "I would never have thought him to take up such a practice."

"Does it surprise you?"

"No, it just does more to reinforce the fact that he is cowardly." That was when he realized what was at the heart of her question.

"It's for your father isn't it?" Eragon asked softly.

Her eyes were bright as she gently placed her empty wooden bowl on the ground. "Part of it." She admitted with such honesty that it threw Eragon off. But then again, Arya was much more forward than any other elf he had met. Well, besides, Rhunon. It was obvious how much she loved her father, King Evandar. It made him think of…he frowned; now was not the time to be stuck in the past.

"My father was kind and gentle," said Arya softly. It was an odd match when he thought of her father and Queen Islanzadi as mates. But he had no right to judge; he didn't know the queen before the Fall of the Riders, so he could not speak of such things. "He devoted his entire life to our cause, always valiant, always willing. But that day that I heard of his fall by Galbatorix, it changed my entire life. My mother was left to rule our people while I…" she stopped unable to go on.

He sat there waiting, not going to push her to finish. But as she spoke, it made him think about his own relationship to his father. It was strained and distant. "So you became an ambassador for your race in hopes to avenge him?" Eragon said quietly, trying to end her inner struggle with herself.

She nodded. "Not only my father, but also for others whom I've lost to him." Seemingly regaining her composure, she continued, her voice strong and steady. That was the Arya he knew. "And when I was chosen by Eridor, it was everything that I could have hoped for. Since I carried Thorn's egg, I had always wished to become a dragon rider to avenge my father and to protect my people. It wasn't until Eridor hatched for me that my dream became reality."

He felt himself smile faintly at her confession. That was how he had also felt when Saphira had hatched for him. "And I owe my thanks to you, Eragon, for allowing me to become his rider."

"He still would've chosen you."

"If he was ever freed from captivity or if I survived long enough to carry him." Corrected Arya. He frowned, never taking into account that Arya was susceptible to death. She was too strong for him to even think that she might not make it out of this war alive. The strange emotion that had manifested itself within him when he'd first met Arya had grown over time.

He wasn't going to let her die. Not now, not ever. His life didn't mean much to him, but her life did, as well as his mother's, Saphira's, and his servants'.

_Now, now Eragon. _He blinked, and as it did before, the world around him began to shift and change into a bloody red vision. And this time, it was stronger than before, pressing in on his weak defenses that he had let drop while he was conversing with Arya. _You can't die yet._

A searing pain erupted in his mind as he stood, turning on the spot as if expecting someone to jump out at him. Why was it so different from before? Why did it hurt so much now? _You shouldn't be so relaxed…it makes your mind easier to constrict._ A demented laugh erupted in his ears, ringing and echoing with such consistency, he brought his hands up to block out the sound. But to no avail.

It kept on ringing. Eyes widening in pain, he grimaced. "Make the noise stop." He muttered to no one in particular.

_It's broken Eragon…you can't fix it. _

It was too noisy. He couldn't stand it. Suddenly a claw like hand reached out to grip his arm. It had long distorted fingers and when he glanced up at the owner of the hand, he took a step back as blood ruby eyes met his. What was that?

"Eragon," it spoke, its voice guttural and rough.

_Are you afraid Eragon? _The voice rang again. _If you are than just kill it. Something dead can't harm you anymore. _

"No, stop…" Eragon murmured weakly. What was happening to him? He needed to get to Oromis's, he needed help.

"Eragon…" the monster spoke again, reaching forward towards him. Eragon took another step back, causing the voice in his mind to laugh. There was too much noise. Everything was overlapping each other, and he couldn't take it anymore. Standing there with his hands pressed over his ears, his eyes tried to find an opening from the distorted realm in which he stood. But there wasn't any.

_There's no escape Eragon. _

"Eragon…"

_You can't run from your fate. _

Not being able to take the pain anymore, he drew his mind into himself, shielding his mentality from the outside world. All around him, the red began to spin and distort as the voices grew louder and more encompassing. Gratefully, he was glad when everything began to fade out into black, leaving behind a quiet solitude.

And in it, there was no noise.

There was nothing.

**So, how was the chapter? I was so excited to get this posted! Soon enough I can finally write about the conflict and all that. But I will be getting another chapter up soon enough. Hopefully really fast since I have a vacation coming up meaning free time to type! I'll see you all next time! And don't forget to review! **


	32. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

**So I had this finished a few days ago but I never uploaded it because I wanted my Beta to check it out. Though for some reason, I wasn't able to get a hold of him. So I decided to upload it today :) (Please don't hate me Beta!) I thought it would be enough time for you all to have waited. This chapter I had some difficulties but other wise it went smoothly. Please review! **

_Where was he? Standing in the middle of the street, Eragon glanced upwards. His eyes widened as he saw the crescent moon in the shape of a dragon whose large red eyes were staring down at him. What was this place? Walking forward cautiously, he tried to see through the fog that covered the city. But he couldn't make anything out more than three feet away from him. This place, the more he took it in, the more it seemed familiar to him. Emerging onto a main street, his heart stopped when looming overhead was the citadel of Uru'baen. It can't be. Why was he here? Where was Ellesmera? Turning away from the castle, he made for the opposite end but not matter how much he walked the street kept on stretching further and further. There was no end to it. _

"_Keep going Eragon_," _he murmured to himself. As he kept walking, he felt beyond aggravated as the street kept on stretching out before him. But eventually it began to come to an end. Just barely through the fog he could see a large bulking figure guarding the gate out of Uru'baen. _What was that? _Slowing down his pace, he cautiously approached the figure. _

_As it came into view surprise seeped through his body. Lying curled up before the city gates was Saphira. But how was she here as well? Taking a closer glance at her, he felt confusion trickle through his mind as he caught sight of a metal collar around her throat chaining her to the ground as if she was a dog. Why would she be like that? Angered at whoever did that to her he approached enraged. Hearing his loud footsteps she woke from her sleep. He reached out to her with his mind. _Saphira, what's going on?

_She didn't respond, instead she blinked at him, her expression growing fierce and savage. Opening her jaws she let forth a defying roar. Startled, he held his ground as she made to her feet. Then to his surprise something happened that he never thought would. She opened her jaws and instead of fire that came out, it was something entirely different. "You are not allowed to pass!" she roared her voice fierce. He blinked caught of guard. Did she just verbally speak? "No one is allowed outside of the city and that goes for the likes of you as well." _

"_Saphira, I don't understand," he fumbled for the right words not sure what to think anymore. "What's going on? Where are we?" _

_She came forward as if not hearing him and said, "No one is allowed pass! Get back elf!" _

_He jumped back as a torrent of flames sprouted from between her jaws nearly burning her alive. He felt sweat coat his face from the heat and his heart race. What was Saphira doing? Though he wanted to stay and try to see what was wrong with her, his mind thought against it. This wasn't right. Nothing here was. _

_Turning back the way he went he ran as far as he could for Saphira was fighting at her chain to reach closer to him. He didn't understand. What was wrong with her? Why was he in Uru'baen? And where was Arya? But as he was preoccupied with his thoughts he didn't realize that the way he was running back was different from the way that he came. He slowed to a slow walk not understanding what was going on. "Didn't I just come from this way?" he murmured to no one in particular. _

"_Did you?" _

_He turned, startled, to the source of the voice. Sitting on a stone bench in the middle of the street was Murtagh. His dark hair was windswept and his blue eyes were a piercing quality. His initial alarm was swept aside with a slight air of relief. "Murtagh, what are you doing here?" _

_He shrugged. "I wanted to sit down and this was the only place to do so." _

"_But why are we in Uru'baen?" asked Eragon, still confused. _

"_I'm here because of you," answered Murtagh with a smile that was unlike him. He paused before continuing, "Why are you here, Eragon?" _

"_I don't know why, I just found myself here." Said Eragon slowly, more to himself than to Murtagh. That was true, wasn't he just with Arya? Then why was he standing in the middle of Uru'baen? Was it magic? Or was everything a dream? "Where's Thorn?" _

"_Thorn?" his brother grinned. "He's eating some apples." _

"_Apples?" Dragons didn't part take in fruit, or that was what Eragon thought for Saphira always preferred a deer over a basket of fruits. "Is he here? Is he safe?" _

_Murtagh stared at him and for some reason Eragon found it unnerving. Then he began to lightly chuckle. "So many questions Eragon." He said with a small gesture of his hands. "You ask questions that I don't have the answer to. Why don't you think more about it? You know, you just don't see it yet." _

"_Don't give me riddles," said Eragon slightly annoyed. "Tell me the reason why you're here." _

_He just continued to chuckle with a light shake of his head. "Say how have you been lately?" Eragon didn't answer. "Oh, I see how it is. Then let me ask this: are things going well between you and Arya? She seems to care greatly for you." _

_Eragon remained quiet but Murtagh's words pierced his like an arrow to his flesh. He didn't know what to say. How would he describe the relationship that he had with her? They were companions…and friends. There was nothing else to it but as the thoughts crossed his mind he felt his heart twinge with disappoint. And for some reason a sad tenderness for the Elvin princess. There was nothing of that sort between the two of them…was there? _

_As he glanced back up to where Murtagh was sitting, he felt surprised when he found the bench empty. "Murtagh?" he called into the gloom. No response. Where did he go to? Slowly making his way up to the bench, he frowned. There was nothing. No sign that anyone had sat on it. Was he really here or did Eragon imagine it? _

_Not trusting what he was seeing anymore, he made his way around the bench and continued to walk down the street that twisted and curved about the gray buildings that were devoid of life. And after a while he came to a stop where the path was split into three directions. Which direction would he choose? Maybe he could go back and sneak past Saphira…_

"_Are you lost?" Eragon whirled about, there standing behind him was Desdemona. It was one surprise after the other. _

"_Desdemona…"Eragon began but he stopped himself. If this place was anything that he came to think it was, she probably wouldn't recognize him. "Do you know the way out of this place?" _

_She nodded giving him a warm smile that was at the same time like her but yet unlike her. "Through the gate," she said simply. _

"_But Saphira is guarding it." _

"_I'll show you the way." Reaching out with her hand she gripped his, and instead of pulling in the direction towards the gate, she took the road to the left. _

"_Wait, this isn't the way." Eragon protested as she dragged him along. _

"_It is, trust me." He pursed his lips not knowing what to say to that. In reality, he trusted her with his life. But he couldn't trust her at the moment for he didn't know who she was or what she was intending. _

"_Stop!" that voice…stopping Eragon turned to find a small boy standing behind him. "You can't follow her." _

"_What?" he asked, staring at the boy who resembled someone Eragon couldn't place. He was young with brown hair and soft chestnut eyes. He wore brown breeches and a white tunic. "Why not?" _

"_She's leading you the wrong way." _

_Eragon turned to stare at Desdemona. She smiled revealing a row of pointed teeth, her eyes becoming red. Pulling his hand away, he bent his knees ready in case of an attack. But instead, her skin began to eat away at itself, turning black before fading away to dust. "Desdemona!" but she was gone. Eyes wide, he found himself staring off into space in shock. What was going on? Was this real? Did she…die? _

_He turned back to the boy. "What's going on?" Eragon demanded. "What's happening?" _

_He didn't answer. Frustrated Eragon pushed forward with his questions. "How do I leave this place?" _

"_Through the gate," he answered. "But it's not that easy."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because you have to remember the place you have to return to." _

"_Return?" _

_The boy nodded. "That's right, return. Just think about it deep down in your heart and it'll come to you." _

"_But how do I get there?" _

"_Through the gate." _

_Gate…but Saphira was guarding the gate. Turning to stare back down the road he sighed. Hopefully it wouldn't change as he walked down there. "Alright then, I'll go through the gate." Eragon said to the boy. He turned to face the kid but like Murtagh he'd disappeared. Not letting it bother him, he continued down the street towards the direction of the gate, hopefully. _

_The street like before was endless and it stretched for miles on end. But he kept on going knowing that at the end the gates would wait for him. As he walked he was alert of his surroundings. Everything was what he remembered of Uru'baen but at the same time it wasn't. Though he couldn't place the difference. And it irritated him to no end. _

_The fog around him began to shift revealing the large bulk of Saphira sleeping on the ground, her body guarding the gates. Forcing himself to walk around her, he stood staring at the gates. _Think Eragon, _he told himself. _Where am I supposed to return? _The beam holding the gate closed moved of its own accord lifting itself up as if suspended by magic and in turn the gates swung forward. Eragon walked forward not chancing a glance back. Wherever this was going to lead him, he would follow it. _

_As he walked, the whiteness around him began to shift forming a castle…This couldn't be…The next thing he knew was that he was standing on the roof of what was once his castle that he lived in. "Am I supposed to return here?" _

_No, that wasn't true. He belonged with the Varden now. _

_As he thought of what to do next, his eyes could make out the figure of someone standing on the edge of the roof. Who was that? He approached, slowly and quietly, the figure standing there. Nearing, he was able to make out black leather clothing and beautiful brown hair. Eragon stopped dead. "Mother!" _

_She turned to him, her expression blank, and her eyes devoid of any emotion. "So you've finally come back to me." _

"_I've never left," said Eragon reaching out to her with his hands. "Come back from there it's dangerous!"_

"_Never left?" she repeated. "Don't lie to me, Eragon. You left me, and I've waited for so long for you to return. I can't remember anymore. Your father and your brother waited for you too. But you didn't seem to care for this family as much as I thought you did."_

"_I don't understand! Haven't I've always been by your side?" asked Eragon with a violent wave of his hand. _

"_Your body was but not your heart." _

_He stared at her, his mouth agape. What was she talking about? While he stood there shell shock, she gave him a sad smile. "I'm tired of waiting, Eragon." And with that she fell. _

_His body reacted immediately, running to catch her, his heart stopped when she fell out of reach of his fingers and to her death. "Mother!" Lying on the ground with her eyes closed and her body at an odd angle was his mother. "No…It can't be…" _

_Unable to comprehend it, he fell to his knees in shock. His mother couldn't be dead. She just couldn't. After all his life, after all those years…He couldn't let her die! "You don't belong here." It was that boy! _

_Eragon didn't turn to face him but instead continued to gaze down at the body of his mother. "Think Eragon, where is it that you should return to?" _

"_I don't know anymore." _

"_Just think, Eragon." _

_Closing his eyes, he tried to think of a place…any place but this place. Once he opened them again, a wooden door stood before him. It wasn't attached to anything else. It just stood there detached and unnatural to the surrounding. He stood there unsure of himself and whether or not to enter the doorway. He glanced back down at his mother and unable to take it anymore, he opened the door blinding him with light. As he emerged onto the other side, it swung shut behind him disappearing from reality. _

_Instead of the gray buildings of Uru'baen or the thick fog, Eragon found himself standing in what seems to be the forest of Du Weldenvarden. Had he made it back? Taking tentative steps forward, he jumped when a light voice called to him. "Have you found out where you should return, Eragon?" _

_Sitting up on a branch at least fifty feet in the air was Arya. But he was sure that like the rest of the people in this world that he'd met that she wasn't the real one. Who she was eluded him. "Whatever you're saying doesn't make sense. Where am I supposed to return to?" _

_A breeze gently lifted a few strands of her long ebony hair. "To that question, I do not know the answer." She said with a soft smile. "It lies within you, not about you. Think about it more carefully this time. Where should you return?" _

_Even though this wasn't the real Arya, he took her advice to heart and stood there trying to image a place in which he was needed. Blocking out everything else, he thought of his family and his servants. He thought of their happiness that he was a part of, his older brother Murtagh and his disability…his mother and her unguarded defense, Saphira and their eternal bond, and most of all Arya and her isolation. It wasn't a location in which he should return to but wherever they were. Feeling a calm settled over him, he glanced back up at Arya to find her still sitting there waiting for an answer. _

"_Have you found it?" _

_For the first time, he smiled and nodded. "I have." _

_Her smile was bright as she stood on the tree branch. "Then leave and return to where you belong, Eragon." With that she left dancing from branch to branch until the emerald leaves blocked her from his view. Thinking of the door, he was glad that it appeared before him like it did last time. It was time to leave this place. _

_Reaching forward towards the knob, he grimaced when a barrier met his hand. _What?_ "Do you actually believe that I'll let you go that easily, Eragon?" He jumped back when the door burst into flames. All around him, the trees began to die and the flowers wither. "I've finally got you right where I want you." _

"_Let me out of here." _

"_Let you out?" the voice mocked. _

_Eragon turned to find his shadow standing behind him in the now dead forest. Eragon frowned, out of the corner of his eyes, he could see shapes and shadows move about but what they were he wasn't sure. "I'm tired of playing this mind game." _

"_Game?" his shadow continued with a grin. "I can assure you, Eragon. This is reality." _

"_Reality?"_

"_Don't play dumb with me." His shadow's eyes narrowed and his smile faded. "It's time for you to surrender to me!" He disappeared. Eragon scowled. Bending his knees in case he had to jump, he grunted when a sharp elbow to his gut sent him sprawling into the ground. _He was faster! _"Time to end this game!" _

_Unable to dodge out of the way, he laid there stunned. Was this really the end? But as his shadow came flying to him, a wave of gold and green magic came spiraling into him knocking him backwards. His shadow fell to the ground, seemingly knocked out of breath. _Think Eragon…Think…_Immediately the door appeared to him. Hurriedly getting to his feet despite the pain, he ran for it and yanked it open despite the pain in his right hand. Falling into the blinding light, relief washed over him as the door closed, locking away his shadow. _

_Was this the end? _

"Are you awake, Eragon?" tiredly blinking, he frowned when a hazy vision came over him. Where was he? Recognizing the room and the cot in which he sat, it immediately dawned to him that he was in Oromis's hut. His vision coming into focus, he glanced around to find Oromis sitting on a stool close by his face covered by a sheen of sweat. And not far off was to his shock Queen Islanzadi. The silence that settled over them was so thick it was suffocating. It was only when he heard the small drip of something that he glanced down to find his right hand bleeding profusely. Eragon stared at the broken flesh and the dripping dark red liquid. He couldn't find the words to cure his own hand any more.

"_Waise heill_." A green light enveloped his hand and a tingling feeling erupted throughout his entire body. The broken flesh came together to make a thin layer of new, red skin. The magic was much like Arya's but more potent, more alien to him.

He tiredly glanced at the queen, and speaking in the ancient language murmured his thanks. Then glancing to Oromis, he asked, "How long have I've been here?"

The elder elf turned his gaze to him which had been fixed on a spot on his wooden hut. No doubt he was conversing to Glaedr. "Two days." His frown deepened. "Arya had bought you back along with the dragons two days ago and you've yet to awaken from your stupor until now."

Two days. Was it really that long that he'd been asleep? "So, Saphira has told you about my condition?"

He suddenly felt the familiar and warm mind of hers touch and envelop his. It had been so long. Allowing her entrance, he mentally sighed at the calming effect her presence had over him. He'd missed her greatly. _It's been quite some time that I've touched your mind, little one. _Her deep voice vibrated through his mind.

_ It has been some time. I've missed you, Saphira. _

_And I you, _her thoughts though warm they may be turned to the situation at hand. _I've told them about your condition but it would be best if you can further explain to them. It's time to let go of your pride and ask for help. They may be the only ones who can help us now, Eragon. _

Knowing what she said was true; he straightened his back and lifted his head to face them, his gaze unwavering. "Saphira has told us of your condition," Queen Islanzadi said it with a frown on her face and again he was struck with the realization that she resembled Arya. "But I would like to hear it from you myself, Eragon Shadeslayer."

He nodded, putting aside his fatigue, he began to speak. "When I was a child," he began in the ancient language, fluid and smooth. "And Saphira had hatched for me; he had sought a way to have my loyalty. But the two of you know as well as I do that children usually don't retain their true name as they age but that it changes over time. Galbatorix knew, of that I'm certain." He smiled humorlessly. "He was unable to obtain my loyalty for no matter what torturous devices he conjured, Saphira and I _endured_ them to the best of our abilities like Arya had under Durza's tortures." At this Queen Islanzadi stiffened, her emerald eyes narrowed giving her an evil look. "But it wasn't enough; I didn't want to see her suffer anymore. She was ever strong, ever resilient. I wanted a way to save her, to save my dragon."

Everything around him became agonizingly bright. _Eragon…If you would rather not talk about it-_

_No, I can. I have to; it's not just about the two of us anymore, Saphira. _

From outside the hut, he could hear her saddened huff, near a whimper. "So I did what I could. And I gave Galbatorix half of my heart, half of my soul." The expressions on their faces said to him that Saphira had yet to tell them of this part.

"Half of your heart?" asked Oromis, his expression pale. "Impossible…"

Eragon shook his head. "If dragons can, what makes humans unable to?"

Queen Islanzadi's expression changed from shock to one of imperious authority. "So you know about them." It was more of a statement than a question.

"If you're referring to the Eldunari, then yes, I do." He forced himself to hold her stare, unmoved by the darkness of her gaze. "Does it surprise you to that extent? I served under Galbatorix for most of my life. He has enslaved hundreds of them to do his bidding. And some, when I was in contact with them seem to stand between the edge of madness and sanity. He has broken them."

The two of them sat there staring at them after a while, he nearly jumped when he heard Glaedr's mournful keen for his brethren. Oromis held a saddened gaze while to his initial surprise; Queen Islanzadi's eyes were covered with a film of tears. "I've always suspected," she murmured, "but to hear it from one such as you…"

"We can do little to help them, Islanzadi." Said Oromis despite the grief etched onto his face and for a moment Eragon saw that his master was truly sick at the heart of the news that he'd brought. _I can't seem to break this cycle of sadness. _

_Do not say that, Eragon, _Saphira reprimanded. _We knew that this was to come if we didn't tell them they would eventually find out one way or another. Better to tell them now than in a situation that becoming emotional could destroy them. _

"Eragon," he glanced up at Oromis's voice.

"Yes, master." Eragon said.

"Your heart, how did he take half of your heart?" he asked his face one of utter concern and kindness. Eragon glanced at his hands as he thought of a way to put it into words. After a moment he glanced back up taking a deep breath from the back of his throat.

"He used the power of the Eldunari to assist him for he didn't know how to truly separated the soul from the body of a human. And they did but as they took half of my soul, they had to replace it for one could not live with only half." Said Eragon with a scowl. "To replace the half of my soul, Galbatorix with the use of the Eldunari entrapped a spirit and connect it to my body to keep me from dying."

Saphira growled from where she laid outside the hut.

"A spirit?" asked Oromis beside himself. He tiredly rubbed a hand over his face. "The extent of that magic, it must have required much research and preparation. To think that Galbatorix could think of such a thing. And you, Eragon, is that the reason why you've been acting so hostile and irrational?"

He glanced away ashamed of himself. _Eragon, tell them. They aren't here to scold you, not even Queen Islanzadi. _"My soul," Eragon began, "or what's left of my soul isn't strong enough to keep the spirit locked away. When I served Galbatorix he would keep the spirit at bay with his spells and enchantments but I don't know myself how to do it. Eventually my entire mind and body will succumb to him."

"These enchantments, do you know the words to them?" asked Oromis.

Eragon shook his head. "When he cast them, I'm usually to far gone to remember them. There are times in my memory that are blank and white."

"So you will die if we were to remove this spirit from your body?" Islanzadi asked.

Eragon nodded. "A body can't live with only half a heart, half a soul. If I don't find a way to subdue him then I will eventually sink into his madness and lose control of myself." He glanced towards the wall of the hut where Saphira laid next to unable to see her. "Saphira has been trying her best to keep me sane with her own soul but she can only do so much for when the spirit takes control of my body it hurts her through our connection."

They sat there, quiet and tense, the new knowledge of his condition settling over them. Oromis was beside himself, his brows furrowed and his expression a frown. No doubt he was trying to think of a way to help Eragon out of his predicament. On the other hand, Queen Islanzadi sat there with a look of deep concentration. Even they couldn't help him.

_I refuse!_ He jumped when he heard Saphira roar in his mind. _I won't let you die, Eragon. Never! We've come this far, we're finally free of Galbatorix; I'm not going to let your life end here. I don't care what I have to do or where I have to go. I'll fly the span of Alagaesia if that's what it takes to save you. _

_Saphira, _he was moved by her declaration. _I'm trying too; I don't want to die either. I won't leave you here all by yourself nor my family. I'm sure there's an answer to this. I'm positive that we can find a way if we look hard enough. Let's look for it together. _

_No matter what, I will save you. _

He turned back to Oromis and Queen Islanzadi to find them standing. "Eragon," it was Oromis who spoke. "Islanzadi and I have thought of a way to help you but for it to work I need you to open your mind to us."

He stared at the queen wary of her presence but he was in no position of decline their offer. Doing as he was told he opened his mind to them. Oromis's presence he had grown used to but Queen Islanzadi's was alien and powerful, and all the encompassing. He stood there waiting from them to search through his mind for whatever it was the they were looking for. He didn't know how long the three of them stood rooted to their spot but Oromis spoke again, this time with his mind. _Remain still Eragon and do not put up your defenses or else this will not work. _

_Yes, master. _

He waited for them to carry out whatever it was that they'd planned. As he stood there, he felt something grip at a string in his mind and then to his surprise severed the connection. Forcing himself to keep from throwing up his barriers he remained still.

_One of the chains slipped from his hand and returned to the white tomb. _

As they withdrew their minds he let out a breath, spewing dark red blood onto the floor before him. "This is too dangerous of an approach," he vaguely heard Oromis say as he straightened, holding a hand to his chest to steady his heartbeat. "Another one and we can stop his heart altogether."

"What other way is there?"

"We need to wait until the Agaeti Blodhren, maybe the answer will present itself to us then." Oromis said, his voice holding a note of finality. Feeling a strong grip on his arm, he allowed him to guide Eragon to his cot and lay him down. "Rest Eragon, you will feel better in the morning."

He nodded taking his advice and closed his eyes allowing sleep to come to him despite the fact that he was asleep for two days. A soothing warmth enveloped his mind and he was glad to know that Saphira was keeping his mind safe for him. He wasn't going to lose hope.

Because there was a place that he needed to return to.

**I want to read thoughts! I know that some of you have expected a rather ROAR confrontation but I wanted a quiet and slightly subdued one. (I'm selfish) Well technically because I don't have a feel for Islanzadi's and Oromis's personalities. But other than that I'm somewhat proud of this chapter though slightly insecure. I hope you've all like it! Oh, and this chapter was longer than the rest because I felt the need to indulge you readers from time to time and please don't mind the typos! I'm sure there are some!**


	33. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

**Okay everyone! The next chapters up! And I have some very good news, I have two chapters already done and edited, courtesy of my Beta, and it's waiting to be uploaded onto . However, I shall refrain from doing so to keep the suspense an ever living part of this story. But if you all really want it uploaded before next week, I'll cut you all a deal. Leave a review telling me why you want the next two chapters up. And let's aim for at least 20 reviews. And to make things more interesting, the next chapter is the Agaeti Blodhren and the one after that is Arya and Eragon in the forest all by themselves...I'll let your imagination carry you away there. Anyways, that's the deal I'm cutting for you. Take it or leave it :) But if you take, I'm awaiting your favorable and hopefull information review. But anways keep reading!**

Sitting on a branch rather high up in a tree, Arya sighed as she watched Eridor practice aerial combat overhead with Thorn. It had been over a week since she last saw Eragon and Saphira. What they were doing she did not know, but she was worried for them. Below her, Murtagh was engrossed with detailing the plants and trees around them, a study that Oromis had assigned him to broaden his knowledge of the forest and to increase his awareness. Staring at him made her think of Eragon. A week ago when they were sitting about the campfire, Eragon had started to hallucinate. At least, that was what she thought. He had stood, covering his ears to block out noises that she couldn't hear and was mumbling to himself. When she went to help him, he had flinched away before collapsing. It wasn't in the norm. Letting her fingers run along the branch that she sat on, her gaze traveled back to Eridor. He had gotten a lot bigger in such a short time frame. Soon he will be on par with going to Thorn.

Thinking of him, Eridor, made her smile. Ever since he'd hatched for her, her loneliness had all but left her. It was comforting to think of him and he now shared a part of her. It was a relationship so intimate that it was hard to imagine that the last few decades she'd spent without him. _If you think you've waited a long time, _a voice snorted in her head, _I've waited a thousand years for you to become my rider._

_I'm glad you chose me, _she responded in kind. Arya watched as he did a spiral in the air effectively knocking Thorn back. _That was a powerful move._

She couldn't help but faintly smile as he accepted her compliment with grace. _You, as well as Saphira and Thorn, enjoy flattery do you not? It seems to be the only way to remedy anything with the three of you or to keep you three in the best of moods._

_Being a race of power and beauty, it is hard not to take flattery to the heart, _he replied as he dodged a claw from Thorn. _Besides, if it is not you who are complimenting me, it is another of your kind isn't it?_

She couldn't deny that. If she wasn't complimenting him and his prowess, another elf surely would. _A statement that is true. _Her emerald eyes followed his large and yet muscular build, the emerald of his scales sparkling in the sun. He truly was a beautiful creature. A moment later she could hear his chuckle in her mind. Anyone who glanced up at the sky would be blinded by a mirage of emerald and ruby as the two dragons fought each other.

_Are you not tired? _Arya asked after she watched Eridor snap his jaws at Thorn as a near scratch to his under belly.

_Not in the least, _he replied with a surge of energy to prove his statement. _To fly feels refreshing._

_That it does. _She had flown quite a few times on Thorn, Saphira, and Eridor. But she could never let go of the peace she felt when she was air borne wit the dragons. There was an odd sense of tranquility about it. As she sat there in the clearing, she raised a brow when Murtagh called up to her.

Glancing down at him, she waited for him to continue. "Would you like to test out the theory that the only difference between Thorn and Eridor is age?"

She glanced at Thorn and Eridor who were both suspended in air. _It seems like a good idea._

_It does. _She stood in one fluid motion and jumped. Within moments Eridor flew underneath her and she landed with ease onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder. She didn't strap a saddle on for it would restrict his movements while training with Thorn and anyways, she didn't mind flying without a saddle. Beside her, Murtagh was holding onto the spike before him to prevent himself from flying off of Thorn.

_Let us show them the strength of an elf and her dragon, _Eridor said. Arya nodded. Letting out a roar, the two dragons tore through the sky, though she was unsure of their final destination. Feeling the wind rip past her cheeks and her hair billow out behind her, she smiled into the sky. This was freedom. She turned to glance at Murtagh who raised his arm to her. Smiling, she did the same. The dragons made a sharp turn while racing each other. And from what she was seeing they seemed to be evenly matched.

And just slightly, she felt a tinge of happiness grow inside her. Ever since Eridor had hatched for her, loneliness wasn't a factor of the eternal life that she led. Now she was part of an order that she'd admired since she was a child. It was a great thing that she was given and she would never take that for granted. Never. _It seems like we are evenly matched._

_Something that you shouldn't feel ashamed of Eridor, you've only just hatched a few months ago,_ said Arya with her mind, letting him sense her pride for him.

He didn't reply but inside grunted his feeling of appreciation washing over her through their mental link. She rubbed his scales as he slowly dipped forward into a dive. Wrapping her hand about one of his spikes she retained her grip to avoid being torn from his back by the wind. He was hurtling to the ground within minutes and before he crashed into the earth, his wings unfurled, slowing them down until he gently landed on the ground. Moments later, Thorn alit next to them.

With grace, she slipped off Eridor and onto the ground, with Murtagh doing the same, albeit more clumsily. "I think we'll have to call it a draw." He said with a light smile as he patted Thorn's snout.

"It would seem that way," she made her way over to him. This past week, Oromis had her accompany Murtagh on various assignments, such as this one after their training. He seemed intent on Murtagh learning everything there was to know in the short amount of time that they had. "How goes your study?"

His smile had turned into a frown at the mention of it. And she felt a tinge of sympathy for him. No doubt he was frustrated at his lack of knowledge compared to his younger brother, Eragon. Arya had known Murtagh long enough to know that the mention of him being inferior to Eragon caused him humiliation. There was no denying, however, how much stronger Eragon was compared to his older brother. He was also able to defeat her with his blades, which irked her to no end. Eragon was someone, she thought, that was not to be contended with.

"The same as ever," he grunted, glancing at the plants around them. "It seems that I'm the one hard pressed to learn."

"Do no worry so much," said Arya. "You will reach the end of the tunnel eventually."

"But how long will it take?" asked Murtagh, his frustration finally reaching the surface of his emotions. "No matter how hard I try, I cannot achieve anything. Neither with my lack of knowledge nor with my disability." His expression became one of pain. "I'm a sorry rider."

Almost immediately, Thorn let out a deafening roar of defiance, his head snapping towards Murtagh at lightning speed. She couldn't hear what was transpiring between them. After a few minutes, he returned to himself, but his words struck a chord in her. To feel that way…her mind flashed back to a long figure standing on the shore of a beach.

"I do not think so," said Arya watching as her words seem to lift his mood slightly.

He remained silent before speaking again, his words soft. "Arya, have you seen Eragon lately?"

The question caught her off guard. The memory of her panic came back to her when he had collapsed. She stood there for a moment. She had wanted to see him, but she could never bring herself to do so. Whether it was her pride or her fear, she could not be sure. Arya did not fear Eragon himself, but rather her feelings for him. He was someone who, with the short amount of time he had spent with her, captured her trust. Whether or not those feelings had developed quickly due to Eridor's attraction to Saphira she couldn't tell. But she viewed him differently then those around her. He was someone who saw past the exterior and deep inside others. His aloof personality made her curious. Ever since he'd first saved her, she always wondered and constantly questioned: _why_. But he was never able to give her a straightforward answer. And through all the time she'd spent with him, she'd found herself growing a deep friendship with him. They were two of the same kind, dragon riders who were tortured and imprisoned by Galbatorix.

"I haven't." Arya answered finally.

"Do you think he is well?" Murtagh turned his gaze upwards. "I haven't seen him or Saphira for quite some time."

For some reason her answer, or lack thereof, made her frustrated. "I do not know."

He nodded and then stood there silently for a moment before turning to a different subject. "The day has grown late, Arya." It had. Already, evening was approaching and she had to return to her tree to continue working on her gift for the Agaeti Blodhren: a poem that she had constructed from scratch.

"It has."

"I will see you tomorrow then?"

Arya nodded, and with that, bid Thorn and Murtagh farewell before turning with Eridor at her tail and weaveing her way through the gaps of the trees. There was no doubt in her mind that she would see him the following morning, for they had training together. Letting her feet carry her through the forest, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going, but just went with her gut instinct.

It was something she liked to do. Just wandering aimlessly like the few times she had spent traveling about Tronjheim. It eased her mind considerably. After a while, she stopped and found herself at the foot of an ancient tree trunk. Glancing up, she was slightly shocked to find herself standing at the foot of Eragon's tree. She stood. _Well, are you going to enter?_

_I…_she hesitated. Then after a moment's decision nodded. Climbing the stairs that grew out of the tree, she arrived at the top and knocked on the latch. For a moment, there was no response and she thought he was not there before his voice traveled through the door, "Enter."

She did so. Walking into his adobe, she was surprised to find him bending over a large ancient text while eating an apple. From where she stood she could see his entire figure. He looked much better since he'd arrived at Ellesmera but she could see a hint of exhaustion in his expression. He spoke to her in the ancient language like they've decided to do, placing his two fingers on his lips in a sign of respect. She repeated the gesture and moved to where he stood. "What are you searching for?"

He glanced down at his book. "It was given to me by Master Oromis. There is something that I'm studying about for the Agaeti Blodhren."

Arya nodded. His room was still a mess. The scrolls and books that she'd seen before was still littering his floor. He saw the distaste on her face and smiled. "I apologize for the state of things. I haven't had time to clean it."

"It is not my place to criticize," said Arya. She turned towards Saphira, who laid on the floor eating desert next to Eridor, who seemed to have joined her while she was busy greeting Eragon. "It is good to see you again, Saphira."

Her large sapphire eyes turned to her and she blinked. A second later a mind touched hers and she allowed the dragon entrance. _You as well, Arya. _Her voice became softer. _Thank you for taking care of Eragon for me. He can be quite troublesome._

Eragon grunted from where he stood but said nothing. Arya nodded with a faint smile. "That he is." She turned back to Eragon. "How are you feeling?"

He stopped his search and lifted his head to stare at her. "Fine." As he spoke without hesitation in the ancient language she was forced to acknowledge that fact. But a little part of her didn't believe it. Arya nodded. "Would you like some tea?" Eragon asked.

"It would be appreciated."

He nodded and left to find some cups and boil tea. As she stood there, she glanced back down at his research. It was long and elaborate. Detail explanations of objects and spells. It was complex and what he was trying to conclude eluded her. A note to the side caught her eye.

_In a world we call reality,_

_ What is fake and what shall remain,_

_Has nature seen to the inevitable,_

_Has God left his land to the unstoppable,_

_What truth lies in this cold reality,_

_As lies are spun and weaved brought about by words,_

_As death is caused and shed brought about by swords,_

_As tears fall from sorrow and grief brought about by pain,_

_What will happen to the reality that remains_

What did that mean? When Eragon came back, he handed her a wooden goblet which she accepted. She took a drink, letting the hot tea clear her mind before motioning to his poem. "What does that mean?" she asked, waiting for his explanation.

"It means what it says," Eragon said as he stared down at it. "That the world we live in is a harsh one."

It was a morbid way of thinking but it was true no less. "Not always," said Arya.

He nodded. "Not always." He marked the page of his book and closed it. "What brings you here, Arya?"

"I haven't heard from you for some time and I thought to come and visit," she said honestly, not feeling the need to go about the answer. "Why have you not been to our training with Master Oromis and Glaedr?"

He stared at her for a moment before making his way around his table to sit on the floor of his tree. She followed, sitting across from him. He was quiet for a long moment and for a second, she thought that he wouldn't answer her like he sometimes did. Then he spoke, his words soft, "I was busy researching something important to me."

Knowing better than to ask what it was, she nodded. "Will you come tomorrow?"

"Yes, of that you can be certain." Eragon took another sip of his tea. His brown eyes traveled from the teardrop hole to hold her gaze. "And how have you been, Arya?"

She glanced down at the tea in the wooden goblet and lightly stirred it, watching the ripples form in the water. "Well," but even that was hard to say. Ever since that week ago when Eragon fell, it'd brought to mind images that she would rather forget.

"It does not seem so," he quietly observed. "Would you like to speak of it?"

She didn't respond to him. He made a sound in the back of his throat and allowed her some respite from his question. As she sat there, she tried not to let the sight of her companions falling from their steeds affect her, or the image of Durza standing above her trying to break her. "Have you've talked to someone about your ordeal in Gil'ead?"

His question surprised her for she did not expect it. When she glanced up at him, she found him watching her intently. "Does it matter?" Arya asked softly.

He inclined his head. "It is always best to share one's burden with friends or family," said Eragon, "Forgive me if I speak out of line, but you seem withdrawn, Arya, and though I cannot claim to know you before your capture, you seem very indifferent to your surroundings."

"As do you," she replied. Then she stopped. "Forgive me—"

"There is nothing to forgive."

She stopped, her eyes returning to the ground. "It was not always so," she whispered quietly after a moments hesitation. "Once, I had someone to talk to, someone who understood who I was and where I came from…He was older than I, but we were kindred spirits both seeking the world outside our forest, eager to explore and strike out against Galbatorix. Neither of us could bear the thought of staying in Du Weldenvarden to pursue our interests when we knew the Dragon Killer, the bane of the Riders, was searching for a way to conquer our race. I had already assumed my position as an ambassador for my people decades before he came to the same conclusion as I…but the moment he did, he volunteered to accompany me wherever my duties might take me," she blinked, feeling her throat convulse and a sudden panic and grief clutch at her heart. "I wasn't going to let him, but the queen liked the idea, and he was very convincing…" Arya pursed her lips unable to continue feeling her eyes sting. She didn't want to shed tears, especially not before Eragon.

His voice was gentle as he spoke, "Was it Faolin?"

Her answer left her lips as a gasp, "Yes."

"Did you love him?"

Did she love Faolin? She'd thought she was too young to think of such a thing, that duty was her foremost priority but now that she was faced with that question she didn't know what to say. It was something that she'd constantly thought about. "Did I love Faolin? How would you describe love? For twenty years, we traveled together, the only immortals to walk among the short-lived races. We were companions…and friends."

That was true if anything. He was a close friend to her and would always have a place in her heart, as well as Glenwing. "And then in a single moment, Durza tore it away. They were the first elves to die in combat for nearly a century, Glenwing and Faolin. And when I saw them fall, I understood then that the true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself, it's having to watch those you care about being hurt. It was a lesson that I thought I had already learned during my time with the Varden when, one after another, the men and women I had come to respect died from swords, arrows, poison, accidents, and old age. The loss had never been so personal, however, and when it happened, I thought 'Now I must surely die as well.' For whatever danger we had encountered before, Faolin and I had always survived it together, and if he could not escape, then why should I?"

The sadness and grief that she had tried to restrain by tackling her duty began to well up in her with such ferocity that thick tears fell from her eyes. Her distress must have panicked Eragon for an expression of shock overwhelmed him and his hand instinctively reached out for her, stopping a few inches from her own hand. He lowered it. In the back of her mind, she felt Eridor's comforting presence not intruding but letting her know that he was there.

"Then Gil'ead," Arya went on, the worst of her memories floating back to her from the century that she's been alive. "Those days were the longest of my life. Faolin was gone, I did not know whether Thorn's egg was safe or if I had inadvertently returned him to Galbatorix, and Durza…Durza sated the bloodlust of the spirits that controlled him by doing the most horrible things he could imagine to me. Sometimes, if he went too far, he would heal me so he could begin anew the following morning. I never had more than a few hours' respite to collect my wits about me."

"He needed no more sleep than you or I, and he kept at me whenever I was conscious and his other duties permitted. While he worked on me, every second was an hour, every hour a day, and every day an eternity. He was careful not to drive me mad but he came close. He came very, very close. I began hearing songs of birds that did not exist. See a forest beneath my feet that was on the other side of Alagaesia, and trees grow until they reached the sky. It was one delusion after another. And then you came, Eragon." She regarded him with a wan smile. "You and Saphira. After hope had deserted me and I had resigned myself to my fate a Rider appeared to rescue me."

"Make that two Riders and Brom." Said Eragon.

Arya nodded continuing as if he didn't interrupt her. "It was such an improbable rescue, I occasionally think that I did go mad and that I've imagined everything since. I had escaped with my life and a Rider, and the last of Galbatorix's eggs that hatched for me. Is it not plausible that I've gone mad?" she dried her eyes with her palms. "You say I'm indifferent to my surroundings. I have ever been of a solitary disposition. But if you had known me before Gil'ead, if you had known me as I was, you would not have considered me so aloof. Then I could sing and dance and not feel threatened by a sense of impending doom."

She felt Eridor's snout gently nuzzle her hair and she was grateful for his support. Regaining her composure she turned to Eragon to find him staring at his hands as if considering what to say. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, he lifted his head and gazed at her. "Know this Arya, though I may speak out of bounds, I, along with Murtagh, Thorn, Saphira, and Eridor will always stand by your side. Whatever doom comes, then we will all have to weather it as best as we can and see it through to the very end."

_He speaks the truth, _Eridor grumbled in her head. _I will fly to the ends of the world for you._

_As Riders and dragons, there is nothing else that we wouldn't do for one another, _said Saphira, her voice soft and comforting.

At their words, a warmth began to blossom in her chest, running through her veins and seeping into her bones. They had said it in the ancient language and she knew then that they meant it with every fiber of their being. She favored Eragon a smile. He glanced away sipping his tea before returning a fainter smile in return.

Her world was changing. And she knew now that the sky wasn't her limit. It was her own fear. And she needed to conquer it and face life as it came to her. The thought of it made her smile, Eragon was truly influencing her with his human beliefs, even if he didn't mean to.

Letting her eyes travel to the opening in the tree, she watched Blagden fly past, shrieking, "Wyrda!"

**Lately, as you've all noticed. I've been very motivated to write this story and upload hence the two chapters that are done and completed that I will upload based on the reviews (Hehe...what a great idea.) But ever since I read the ending to Inheritance, my paramount disappoint (dued to the nonexistant romance between A&E) was so great it's ignited a flame inside of me. And so I've been tearing through these chapters with speed! Oh and the last part at the end was from Brisingr or the majority and that was due in part to the fact that I believe Paloni could not portray Arya's moment of weakness any better than that. So kudos to you CP despite the ending you laid on us! I'll see you all next chapter which, based on you readers will be up soon. Either tomorrow or next week!**


	34. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

**So, I'm pretty surprised that you all reviewed so quick and as promised I have uploaded it for you all. And your reviews makes me a very happy writer! Well, with the exception of one but there will always be those type of people. Anyways, I hope you all love this chapter its a mixture of CP's own Agaeti Blodhren but with my own twists and turns! (So thank you for writing it so beautifully CP) and because I feel that three chapters are a lot in a week, I'll let you wait for the next one a little longer! I'm evil! :) Happy reading! **

As the days began to get ever closer to the Agaeti Blodhren, Eragon found himself experiencing the best and worst days of his time in Ellesmera. His mind troubled him constantly, despite Islanzadi's and Oromis's search for a cure. The bloodlust of the spirit sharing his body made it hard for him to concentrate on anything else, but he found it easier to keep it in check when he had company. Yet, in contrast, he and Saphira had never been so close. Disregarding her own safety, she kept her mind connected to his, living and feeling the experiences, her him and he her. Her presence made everything much more relaxing and comforting. And every now and then when Arya's duty permitted her and he wasn't feverously researching through scrolls and texts, the two of them along with Eridor and Saphira would walk through Ellesmera. Over the course of their wanderings, Arya introduced Eragon and Saphira to elves of distinction: great warriors, poets, and artists. She took them to concerts held under the thatched pines, something he found very soothing to his mind. And she showed them many hidden wonders of Ellesmera, some more mythical than the rest.

Ever since her distressed confession, he found himself trying to share her burdens as a fellow rider and a friend. He told her stories that he knew would interest her. How he'd come to hire his servants, that as a child he was talented in playing the flute for his mother, and how he would always find himself attached to the ocean and the beauty of the sky. He told her of his first flight with Saphira in which out of his own fear and excitement ended rather badly as he fell from the saddle and into a pile of hay in the country side. Eragon had tried to avoid subjects such as Galbatorix and Shruikan and instead told her of a loyal servant he had by the name of Tornac and how he had learned the skills of the blade from him. And he told her of the city of Uru'baen and how when he climbed one of the seven elfish towers to watch the sunset, it was as if the sky was on fire, something she was most interested in. But he rarely, if ever, spoke of himself during those times.

In turn, Eragon learned of Arya's own life. He heard of her childhood, her friends and family, the struggles she had with her mother, her sense of duty, and her experiences among the Varden, which she spoke about the most freely. She described raids and battles she participated in, treaties that she helped to negotiate, her dispute with the dwarves and their beliefs, which he thought was uncanny of her, and the momentous events that she witnessed during her tenure as ambassador. However, he didn't just listen. He would ask questions in return and for the most part, she answered them with an honesty that he came to appreciate greatly since his time in Ellesmera.

One night, as they were sitting under the canopy of an ancient oak tree, Arya was describing the time when she had first attended a wedding between a rather respected leader of the Varden and his betrothed. As she explained, he couldn't help but feel amused at the small distaste she had for the ceremonies. "Though elves don't see it necessary to dictate our bonds to laws or secular items, it was an odd enough experience to witness it before a crowd of people. Who we chose to take as a mate is solely our decision, no one else's. We shall live together for as long as our feelings persist, and if not, then it will be a parting of the ways."

"Ah, but then humans, being a short-lived race can only express their loyalty and devotion through that ceremony. Without magic and immortality, it is hard to live freely of other's influence," countered Eragon.

"But how would you justify infidelity when you've vowed to protect and nurture one another for as long as you both shall live?" Arya asked cornering him with her logic. And to this he grudgingly didn't have an answer. It was how it went between the two of them; though Eragon would best her in sparring she was superior to him in knowledge and logic.

Between her and Saphira, a measure of tranquility began to settle in Eragon's heart, but it was a balance that could be easily disrupted when he was influenced by the madness of the spirit residing in him. But with the coming of the celebration, he was glad for a distraction from his morbid thoughts.

The entire city bustled with activity as the elves prepared for the Agaeti Blodhren. Eragon had never seen them so excited before and he had to admit that spending time with Arya made him feel as if she was representative of her race. Oh how wrong he was. They decorated the forest with colored bunting and lanterns, especially around the Menoa tree, where the tree itself was adorned with a lantern upon the tip of each branch. Even the plants took a festive appearance that Eragon knew was due to the elves' singing through the night.

Each day hundreds of elves arrived in Ellesmera from their cities scattered throughout the woods, for none would willingly miss the centennial observance of their treaty with the dragons. Eragon also knew that many came to see for themselves the beauty of the three dragons. The trio did not disappoint and would often fly about the city, causing a rainbow of sapphire, emerald, and ruby to color the city. He would chuckle when he heard the excited gasps and compliments the elves rained on the three dragons. A week before the Agaeti Blodhren, Eragon had forgone walking with Arya because he was busy with his creation for the ceremony and she with hers. Saphira, too, would often fly off to work on hers, something that he didn't question but was very interested in seeing with his own eyes. What he wanted to give to the elves was something that they'd value beyond anything else, something that was the cause of their sadness and sorrow and he had the right tools for it all, his memories being the most monumental contribution. He labored day and night, not putting forth any magic but instead his feelings and desire for what was lost so his project could take life from his emotions and not magic itself. As he worked on his project and Murtagh and Arya worked on theirs, the time they met for training was slightly subdued due to their preoccupations.

He had refused to show Oromis for it would not create the reaction that he desired. Never had he felt a desire to accomplish something so greatly in his entire life. Eragon worked day and night from dawn to sunset but it gave him a feeling of wondrous freedom and peace, two things he hadn't felt in a long time.

On the eve of the Agaeti Blodhren—which was the last three days—Eragon, Saphira, Orik, Murtagh, and Thorn accompanied Arya and Eridor to the Menoa tree, where a host of elves was assembled, their black and silver hair flickering in the lamplight. Islanzadi stood upon a raised root at the base of the trunk, as tall, pale, and fair as a birch tree. Blagden as usual rested on the queen's left shoulder, while Maud, the werecat whom Eragon liked a great deal, lurked behind her. Glaedr was there, as well as Oromis, who was clothed in red and black. He also recognized other elves such as Lifaen and Nari and to his great distaste, Vanir.

"Wait here," said Arya. She slipped through the crowd and soon enough, returned with Rhunon, making good on her promise to bring the elf to the celebration. The smith blinked at them and each of them took turns in greeting her, to which she would nod and give a short reply. Then she spied Orik and addressed him in Dwarvish, to which he responded with enthusiasm. Arya resumed standing next to him and he was not surprised to see her dressed in the same manner as her mother and Oromis, black and red.

"It seems that you've managed to bring her out of her forge," commented Eragon as he watched Orik and the smith converse. "Did she take well to it?"

"Rhunon was her usual self," said Arya with a light smile, which he contributed to the celebration seeing as this was also her first time in participating in it. "It took no more than words and a few brusque complaints before she left."

He nodded, not doubting her answer. They stood there until the stroke of midnight, every once and a while Eragon would point an object of interest to her and she would explain, Islanzadi raised her bare left arm so that it pointed to the new moon and a soft white orb of light gathered itself above her palm from the light emitted from the lanterns that dotted the Menoa tree. Then Islanzadi walked along the root to the massive trunk and placed the orb in a hollow in the bark, where it remained, pulsing.

Murtagh turned to Arya. "Is it begun?"

"It is begun!" she laughed. "And it will end when the werelight expends itself."

Eragon watched as the elves divided itself into informal camps throughout the forest and clearing that encircled the Menoa tree. They produced tables laden high with dishes and then they began to sing in their clear flutelike voices. The music was part of a larger melody that wove an enchantment over the dreamy night causing Eragon's blood to boil and his mind to take wild abandon with a desire to dance and run freely through the dark forest. He restrained it with such firmness, that it was impossible to go mad, but Murtagh seemed to be having a much more difficult time. From then on out, he let himself partake in the celebrations, knowing what his limits were. Eventually, as they celebrated, time lost all meaning to him, for he did not know how much time had transpired as he danced among the elves and let himself enjoy their merriment.

He remembered dancing about Arya, who proved a beautiful dancer as she twirled and twisted with such grace it was hard to picture her in battle. Their hands would bring them together and their feet would push them apart. As he danced, he caught a glimpse of Murtagh spinning in circles while holding hands with an elf-maid.

He remembered the elves perching on the branches of the Menoa tree call out to the dragons below, asking riddles and questions, laughing when they were answered by any of the four dragons.

He remembered sitting against Saphira to watch the same elf-maid whom Murtagh danced with sway before a rapt audience while she sang.

He remembered the endless poems, some mournful, others joyful, and most contained both. He heard Arya's poem in full and thought that it fine indeed, and Islanzadi's, which was longer but of equal merit. All the elves gathered to listen to those two works…

He remembered the wonders the elves made for the celebration, many of which he would have deemed impossible beforehand, even with the assistance of magic. Puzzles and toys, art and weapons, and items whose function escaped him.

He remembered meeting elves who had altered their appearance in what they thought was beautiful, such as webbed fingers and gills, or a mane of wolf hair and fangs for teeth. Everything seemed to dance in and out of his mind as if he was there but his mind wasn't.

He remembered Arya pulling him aside to ask him a question but it was lost to the music and merriment of those all around him. But she was soon pulled away by the other elves and her mother to continue the celebration leaving Eragon to where he stood with Saphira.

He remembered Murtagh having an attack from his back, and trying to help his half brother ease the pain with his magic as the elves continued to dance and sing in their revels. To keep them away, Saphira and Thorn stood guard over him as he helped Murtagh.

On the third day of the Agaeti Blodhren, or so Eragon later learned, he brought out his creation for the elves to witness. It was a vast, bulky object that took up multiple tables that they elves had cleared for him. He reached out to grip the black cloth that obscured it from view feeling all of their interested views on him, especially those of Oromis, Arya, Islanzadi, Murtagh, and the dragons. He faced them and said, "I am no smith nor am I skilled in weaving or carving. And Nor can I rival your accomplishments with spells. Thus remained what I could do and my desire to see it rise again even though it is but a small recreation of it." With a flourish of his hand, he removed the cloth revealing to the audience the recreation of the island of Vroengard, where the Order of the Riders resided.

It was not the poisoned island that it is now, but the beautiful land in which vast buildings stood and mountains shadowed. Flying atop of it were dragons that he had carved and built, functioning with the magic of his emotions and desire. They released torrents of fire and bellows as they circled the island. Everything was precise and exact as he extracted the memories of Vroengard from the Eldunari that Galbatorix had enslaved when he came into contact to them. He heard the elves' gasps and cries at the replication of what were lost. Glaedr and Oromis were perhaps the most emotional next to Queen Islanzadi as they surveyed it.

_Yes, this is what we lost in the Fall,_ Glaedr said mournfully, _the destruction of our home. _

The elf lord, Dathedr, said, "You've underestimated yourself, Shadeslayer. In the century that has passed since the Fall, we've come to forget the beauty of what once was and it is thanks to you that we can remember."

Islanzadi raised one pale hand. "This creation of yours shall be added to the great library in Tialdari Hall, Eragon-finiarel, so that all who wish can appreciate it." As she said so, she approached the island and a dragon, whom she recognized flew towards her and bowed his head in respect and soon enough the others did as well, seeing the authority of Islanzadi. Eragon couldn't tell but he'd thought he saw tears in the queen's eyes as she gazed down at the Vroengard.

Afterwards, it was time for Saphira to present her work to the elves. And seeing as it was also his first time seeing it, he was surprised to find her flying back with a molten rock thrice the size of a regular man. She landed on her hind legs and placed it in the center for all to see. Then with a bellow, she bathed it in flames. When she closed her jaws the rock was aflame seeming to move under the hypnotic light. This had the elves laughing and dancing shouting words of praise. And one by one they all began to reveal their works, Murtagh read his poem, Thorn brought forth a carving of a dragon that he carved with the use of his talons, and Eridor revealed his work, a map of Alagaesia that he also carved but on it, he'd rubbed the color of his scales into the trees and forest giving it a beautiful verdant color, something Rhunon praised. Then Glaedr and Oromis presented their works, the two objects that the elves anticipated.

Arya took Eragon's hand then and drew him through the forest toward the Menoa tree, where she said, "Look how the werelight dims. We have but a few hours left to us before dawn arrives and we must return to the world of cold reason."

Around the tree, the host of elves gathered, their faces bright with eager anticipation. With great dignity Islanzadi stood on a gnarled shelf overlooking the slender, waiting elves. She spoke of the war with the dragons and the shame they had faced since the fall of the riders before pointing out the miracle of four riders now present for the ceremony and the hope that they now had to face Galbatorix.

At the Queen's signal, the elves cleared a wide expanse at the base of the Menoa tree. Around the perimeter they staked a ring of lanterns mounted upon carved poles, while musicians with flute, harps, and drums assembled along the ridge of one long root. Guided by Arya to the edge of the circle, Eragon found himself sitting between her and Murtagh, while Saphira and Eridor crouched on one side of them and Thorn and Glaedr the other. When all elves were settled, two elf-maids walked to the center of the space in the host and stood with their backs to each other. They were exceedingly beautiful, Eragon thought, and identical in every aspect with the exception of their hair: one had ebony tresses while the other had hair the color of silver.

"The Caretakers, Iduna and Neya," whispered Arya.

Moving in unison, the two elves raised their hands to the brooches at their throats, unclasped them, and allowed their white robed to fall away. Though they wore no garments, the women were clad in an iridescent tattoo of a dragon. The tattoo began with the dragon's tail wrapped around the left ankle of Iduna, continued up her leg and thigh, over her torso, and then across Neya's back, ending with the dragon's head on Neya's chest. Every scale on the dragon was inked in a different color giving it the look of a rainbow.

The elf-maids twined their hands and arms together so that the dragon appeared to be connected, rippling from one body to the next without interruption. Then they each lifted a bare foot and brought it down on the packed ground with a soft _thump._

It wasn't until the third _thump_ did the musicians struck their drums in rhythm to the soft stomps. A _thump_ later, the harpists plucked the strings of their gilt instruments, and a moment after that, those elves with flutes joined the throbbing melody. Then the twin's voices became one with the music as they danced gathering speed as they went to make the dragon on their skin move. And soon enough the elves accompanied the incantation, singing with one tongue and one mind and one intent. Eragon did not know the words and settled to listening to Arya sing it beside him. From either side, he heard the dragons hum along with the song.

Faster and faster, Iduna and Neya spun until their feet were a dusty blur and their hair fanned about them and they glistened with a film of sweat. As they accelerated to an inhuman speed, the tempo of the music climbed with them. Then a flare of light ran the length of the dragon tattoo, from head to tail, and the dragon stirred. Eragon blinked. Had he truly seen that?

A burst of flame erupted from the dragon's maw and he lunged forward and pulled himself free of the elves' skin, climbing into the air, where he hovered flapping his wings. The tip of his tail remained connected to the twins below, like a glowing umbilical cord. The giant beast let loose a roar that held the events of the past century.

As the dragon's head befall him and Murtagh, he knew then that it was no apparition but a conscious being bound and sustained by magic. The dragons' humming grew louder until it blocked all other sound from Eragon's ear. The dragon's insubstantial wing touched the seated elves as it looped down over them coming to a stop before Eragon and Murtagh. He felt an instinct to reach it come over him but he refrained from doing so, while beside him Murtagh lifted his right hand, palming reaching toward the creature.

In his mind echoed a voice of fire: _Our gift so you may do what you must. _

The dragon bent his neck and touched the heart of Murtagh's gedwey ignasia. A spark jumped between them, and he watched as his half brother went rigid in his seat before he fell forward. Alarmed, Eragon stood to help him just as the dragon touched his right eye with its snout. A searing pain erupted from the contact, blinding him as he reached for it with his right hand. As soon as his own gedwey ignasia came in contact with it, his body burned with an unrestrained fire. His vision flashed red and black and his right eye burned. Feeling a drowsiness overcome him, he stumbled before falling to the ground, going into deep within himself to keep the pain at bay.

Lastly, he again heard the voice of fire say, _Our gift to you. _

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I shall upload the next one in a week so have fun waiting in the suspense that I've created!**


	35. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

**So I couldn't take waiting anymore :p, lucky for you all I've decided to upload this chapter! The one you've all be waiting for! And I must tell you that the next one is halfway done so it shall be up soon and the one after that one (I'm really excited for that one) shall be done as well because I've outlined and thought ahead for that SPECIFIC chapter. Can't you tell that I'm excited? Anyways, read ahead and do enjoy yourselves :) **

Eragon was alone when he woke.

He opened his eyes and stared at the carved ceiling of the tree house he and Saphira shared. Outside, night still reigned and he could hear the sounds of the elves' revels float through the teardrop hole in the tree that Saphira usually flew through. Before he could analyze the situation more clearly, Saphira leapt into his mind, radiating concern and anxiety. An image passed to him of her standing beside Eridor and Islanzadi at the Menoa tree, then she asked, _How are you? _

_I feel as if someone tried to bash my right eye out…though aside from that I feel better than I've felt in a long time. How long have I been out?_

_Only an hour. I would've stayed by your side, but they needed me as well as the other dragons and Oromis to complete the ceremony. You should have seen the elves' reaction when both you and Murtagh fainted. _Another image passed to him, this time of he and Murtagh lying on the ground as the elves' gasps filled the air. Arya, he saw was bent over him as well as two other elves. _Nothing like this has occurred before. _

_Did you cause this, Saphira?_

_Not entirely. The memories of our race, which were given form and substance by the elves' magic, anointed you with what skill we dragons possess, for you are our best hope to avoid extinction. _

_I see. _

_Rest and recover, Eragon, and I shall rejoin you at dawn. _

_No, that's not necessary. Spend your time with Eridor, I'm sure he'll appreciate your company greatly. _

A warm feeling from Saphira radiated through him before she left. Getting to his feet, Eragon stretched and went to the wash closet. There he retrieved the mirror he used for shaving and brought it into the light of a nearby lantern trying to see if his right eye was still there. The image that greeted him, however, made him freeze in shock.

His physical appearance that had differentiated him between and a human and an elf was blurred away, almost gone. Instead, the face that stared back at him was a slender face that was smooth and angled as any elves. His skin glowed lightly in the darkness as if emitting magic. When Saphira had changed him, he looked like an elf but there were features that made him stand out: his strong jaw, thick brows, and broad face. But now they were all gone. He was the fairest of any human and even in an elf's view, could be considered beautiful. _Who was he now? _

His right eye was what threw him off the most. In the brown of his iris, a violet symbol glowed menacingly. In the shape of a six pointed star, it looked as if it was burned into his eye. With trembling fingers, Eragon reached up to touch his eye. What was this? An enchantment? A spell? That was when he felt an empty calm settle over him. It must have locked the spirit away for the moment. That was why his mind felt so at ease, so peaceful. A feeling of pure elation washed over him. He was finally going to have a peace of mind for once in his life.

He dropped the mirror on the bed and garbed himself in his finest clothes: a sapphire tunic stitched with silver thread; a belt studded with white jade; warm, ebony leggings; and a pair of cloth boots favored by elves.

Descending the tree, Eragon wandered the shadows of Ellesmera and observed the elves carousing in the fever of the night. None of them recognized him, though they greeted him as one of their own and invited him to share in their saturnalias.

Not making it to the glade where the Menoa tree stood, he continued to wander throughout the forest, finally able to enjoy a sense of freedom without having to worry about having an attack on his mind. The trees seem more beautiful and the leaves a dark shade of emerald. Everything seemed much more enjoyable now than they did a week ago. Weaving in and out of trees, he came to slowly admire the elves' and their love for the forest. It was peaceful, nothing was screaming in his mind to cause him to have any aversion to the plant life about him. Following his instincts rather than his mind, he emerged into a clearing.

Moving out of the canopies of the trees, his eyes drifted upwards to the dark night sky where the constellations shined brightly done on them. It was as if he was seeing them for the first time that day. He had always stared at the stars, even as a child, but it wasn't until now did he truly see them. They were like diamonds dotted across a vast sea of ebony. Remembering what his mother used to say to him as a child, a pang of loneliness gripped his heart. He was sure that she would've loved to come and see the city of Ellesmera. He was going to take her one day. Once the war was over.

As he stood there thinking, the sound of footsteps on the ground alerted him to the presence of someone. It was feather light but it was enough to stand out in the stark silence of the clearing. Accompanying the footsteps was the intoxicating smell of crushed pine needles. He turned as Arya emerged into the clearing. As much as he was startled by her presence, her own reaction to his was much greater.

Arya looked at him and he felt as if she saw him for the first time. Her eyes widened, and she whispered, "Is that you, Eragon?"

He smiled, no doubt the expression out of place on his features, glad that at least Arya could recognize him for who he was underneath his new appearance. "My appearance may have changed but my identity is still the same. I'm grateful that you can recognize me, Arya." He frowned when his voice came out lighter and more melodious than he was used to.

"What have they done to you?"

"That I know not." His frown deepened as he thought of his distaste for the sound of his new vocals.

She came to him, her feet gliding over the forest ground with the grace of a dancer. Coming to a stop before him, he stared down into the emerald of her eyes knowing that she was taking in the violet glow of his own right eye. "I can assure you that my right eye is unharmed. The glow will fade away eventually."

Her expression showed that she believed otherwise but she remained silent on the matter before gesturing for him to follow her. Together, the two of them wandered the dense woods, which echoed with fragments of music and voices from the festivities. Little was said between them but the silence was not awkward. It was comfortable and soothing. They stopped on a bank of a narrow stream so clear, it was invisible in the faint light. The only thing that betrayed its presence was the throaty gurgle of water pouring over rocks. Around them the thick pines formed a cave with their branches, concealing Eragon and Arya from the world and muffling the cool, still air.

They stood there for a moment before Eragon spoke. "I can imagine how Murtagh looks now. If anything, he looks more elf and the weal and scar that Durza had given him should be gone."

"He must be overjoyed." Arya said.

Eragon nodded. "No doubt, it would give him some security in that he isn't the weakest human or the strongest elf."

"And you, Eragon? What of your abilities?"

He hadn't thought of that before. His curiosity piqued by Arya's question, he bent down to scoop up a handful of rocks from the side of the stream. And with a moderate amount of pressure, closed his hand around it in the form of a first. The sound of grinding met his ears and when he opened it, dust covered his hand. "It seems as if my abilities have reached a paramount level."

"That it does."

Silence settled over them again before Eragon who spoke. "I heard from Murtagh that you were planning of leaving Ellesmera to return to the Varden, Arya."

"I am." He waited for her to explain. "I've tarried here for far too long. My training as a Rider may be great but I also have to fulfill my duties as ambassador of my race. I've already spoken to Oromis and he has agreed that I've enough wisdom and knowledge to forgo my training temporarily."

He nodded before turning to face her. "In that case, I shall also be accompanying you on your way back to the Varden." Said Eragon. Six days ago, he had came to the conclusion that though he was under Oromis's training in Ellesmera that he had to fulfill his own duty to Nasuada as her vassal. He was glad for the months that he had spent in Ellesmera and he would never forget the generosity of the elves during his stay but he couldn't bring himself to ignore reality anymore.

Her expression was one of shock as she took in the information, "But your training—"

"I don't require anymore training than you, Arya," Eragon said. "Do not forget that I grew up underneath Galbatorix's tutelage. If anything, I may know more about the Riders than you." He smiled slightly, knowing that the thought of it might displease her. "I've already spoke to Oromis and Islanzadi Drottning, though displeased, they agreed on the necessity of my return to the Varden."

She didn't say anything else, but he could tell that she was slightly irritated by the lateness of him telling her his decision. Suddenly remembering something, he bent down on the ground again and began to lightly sing in the ancient language, still alienated to his own voice. He was sure that in the grounds of the forest, there laid the one object that he needed. Again and again, he quietly sang. It was slow at first, a stem slowly rose from the soil, lengthening until it began the decent height and a single petal grew in the center of the stem. Continuing his song, he watched as a white rose matured before his very eyes, perfect and beautiful as his mother often sang when he was a child.

Once he was done, he gently reached forward and with a spell cut the stem diagonally as close as he could to the ground. Gripping the white rose, he stood and turned to Arya and handed it to her. "It's not a Black Mourning Glory, but…" he smiled and shrugged.

"You should not have," she said. "But I'm glad you did." She accepted the flower and softly caressed the petals, an emotion crossing her face. Lifting to smell its scent, he watched as her posture relaxed to the utmost without a burden on her shoulder weighing her down. And for that he was glad for once morning came, they would both be journeying back to the land of cold reality.

"A symbol of our friendship," said Eragon. Arya nodded, her eyes bright.

Turning away from her, he caught his faint image in the stream and just a little his mood soured lightly. How was his mother going to react? He didn't look anything like he used to be and it saddened him somewhat that even as he grew slowly his identity began to leave him to be replaced by a mold of himself carved and shaped by the individuals about him.

"Is something bothering you, Eragon?" He turned to Arya, subconsciously pulling at his skin as if trying to rip it off to find the person underneath. _Rip off this fake skin…_suddenly remembering those words, he dropped his hand.

"I don't feel like myself." Eragon replied honestly. "Everything about me seems like a different person. My appearance…my voice…" he trailed off unable to hold off the nostalgia of who he was and how he looked like originally. It pained him to no end. "I'm grateful for the gift, truly, but I just wished that I could remain who I am and be seen for the person rather than the image."

As he spoke she remained quiet, glancing down at the rose in her hand. And it just wasn't a matter of who he was but what he was. Was he human? Was he elven? Or was he a hybrid of both? So many questions and so little answers. "Eragon," he turned to find Arya staring at him intently and raised a brow. The next words she spoke struck him to the core. "I see you."

It was as if one of the dragon's tails slammed into him, knocking him out of breath as he stood there staring at Arya in shock. His mind took a moment to process what she said and when it did he felt as if he was going to cry from relief or warmth. But he didn't. Instead he stood there, rooted to the spot as he stared back at Arya. She had meant it, for she saw deep down who he was, what he desired, and what he chose to believe in. After a moment, Eragon said just as quietly, "As I see you, Arya."

An emotion flashed in her eyes before disappearing leaving the two of them to gaze at one another as if trying to figure the other out. That was when he felt it, a warm—no, heated emotion coming from Saphira through the thin connection between their minds. An image flashed in his head of her baiting Eridor in an area away from the Menoa tree. Eridor snapped back at her but not in an offensive manner but rather like a game between the two. Then it quickly passed. A smile slowly stretched its way on his face.

Before him, Arya stood smiling as well, and for once, he thought she truly looked happy. And he had to admit that she looked beautiful as she did so. "It seems like the two of them have finally decided," murmured Eragon.

She nodded, her long hair caressing her skin as she glanced up at the sky as if expecting them to be up there. Eragon followed her gaze. A minute later, he heard a roar echo through the night followed by a jet of azure flames that lighted the night sky revealing Saphira. Another roar followed in response, this time deep and masculine and to both his and Arya's surprise, a torrent of emerald flames shot through the darkness, briefly showing Eridor's form.

"Oh!" exclaimed Arya, sounding delighted. "That's the first time he has breathed fire!"

"It certainly won't be the last," said Eragon to Arya's light amusement as she continued to stare up at the sky, her eyes following the barely visible figures of the two dragons. Farther off, he could hear the cheers of the elves, no doubt happy to hear such sounds again in their quiet forest.

He felt himself smile faintly at the two dragons and their new founded happiness in one another. Though seeing that the slight emotions he felt from Saphira were so alien to him, he couldn't help but feel his ears grow hot. Arya, was also staring up at the sky with a faint smile, and her eyes shone brighter than usual, as if the sight of the two dragons filled her with pride and happiness.

Torrents of fire filled the sky once more before the dragons turned to fly off together. Standing there with Arya, he felt a stronger connection to her more than he did moments before. A connection that he was sure she felt as well. It was so strong, so deep that the feeling filled his heart to the brim of her and Eridor. Still glancing up at the sky, he chuckled. "I'm happy for them, though I hope Saphira could restrain her feelings. It is rather uncomfortable."

"It's beautiful." Said Arya.

"Though the courting of dragons is no gentle affair," he said to Arya.

"Did you expect soft words and gentle caresses?"

"I suppose not." He took in a deep breath, his happiness for Saphira filling him with contentment. "But I'm glad…ever since she'd hatched she'd always longed for a mate. And Shruikan wasn't an option, seeing as he was bent and twisted by Galbatorix and his desire to destroy everything and anything that existed." Arya took great interest in the information he gave her but otherwise remained quiet. "To know that she was the only female of her race pained her. But to have Thorn, Glaedr, and especially Eridor, she began to change if only slightly. And for that I'm glad…I can never give her what she wanted no matter how hard I try. But to know that Eridor can makes me feel relieved."

Arya nodded. "It must have been hard for her the past four years to live knowing that she could only find a mate in the remaining eggs if they ever hatch for someone."

"It was but it has changed since we met you, Murtagh, and Thorn." He turned to Arya smiling lightly at her. "So in truth, though I may have rescued you three that night at Gil'ead it was you who saved me. I would've gone mad as the person I was. Leading a life behind stone walls behind a mask. I may have been born Eragon but I didn't become him until then."

He turned to fully face her now. In the faint light, he could see the very essence of her beauty. Reaching forward, he gently gripped the hand that held the flower only for a moment. She didn't flinch nor pull away but waited for him to continue. "I will always remember what you've done for me Arya and I want to thank you, though late as it is in coming."

He removed his hand and continued to gaze at her. He wasn't normally outright with his emotions but he felt the strong need to tell her what he thought. Whether it was brought on by Saphira's emotions or the magic of the celebration, he didn't know but the urge was too great to staunch. Then for a slight moment he felt an unmistakable tenderness for Arya that surpassed everything else. Her emerald eyes, he thought, was the flames that ignited his own fire.

**I know some of you are disappointed that Eragon and Arya don't get together in this chapter but I've written it two ways. This way and another way that didn't fit with what I'm trying to do. It just felt wrong for them to get together here. Call it writer's intuition or something. But I just couldn't see them getting together here. But you will not be disappointed with the following two chapters because we are going to see some EragonXArya action! Finally! After about 35 chapters of this build up of character! But that's all I'm going to tell you. But expect an epic beginning for the epic romance that we failed to read in Inheritance! (Not that the book wasn't good itself-personally I loved the action and ExA moments its just CP left so many things unsaid and unaccounted for. Where is Eragon going? What will happen to Arya? Does Murtagh become a recluse? All of this stuff that I want ANSWERS for. But I'll just use my imagine to fill in the blanks.) But it makes me smile when I think of how Eragon's love for Arya (and maybe hers for him?) will outlast Empires...so hey, maybe she gets tired of being queen or something, and after six millenias she'll decide to join Eragon? Who knows I think she might or might not (seeing how Arya is) but enough of my rambling, I'll see you next two chapters! I can't wait! **


	36. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

**Well, 700 reviews, my goodness am I flattered :) So I thought I might as well upload this chapter since the other one is almost done anyways. I'm SOOOO EXCITED! I can't wait to upload the next one but I'm debating on whether or not to make you all wait a few extra days before giving in. Lol, but I like to spoil my readers. And also to those who are inspired by my fanfiction, I'm extremely honored that you would ask for my advice. Anyway, you can all enjoy this chapter :) **

As dawn came, Eragon and Arya had decided that it was best to leave midday to give the dragons some time to themselves. He'd returned to his tree while Arya hers and went to pack his belongings. Texts and scrolls were roughly shoved away into the saddle as well as his other possessions. Packing didn't take more than five minutes. He would have to wait for Saphira to return before he could do anything else. Maybe he would go and assist Arya for he heard that elves didn't have a sense for time seeing as they were immortal beings.

Ten minutes later as he descended the tree cleanly shaven and changed into a light white tunic with an intricate lace pattern on the front that he didn't bother to lace, dark breeches, and his norm black leather boots. Arya's tree, Eragon thought, shouldn't be far from his seeing that the Riders of the past days would feel comforted residing near one another. His assumption wasn't far off either. Swiftly ascending the steps to her tree, he lightly knocked on the opening to her chamber waiting for her answer. It was short in coming as her voice floated towards him, "Enter."

Stepping over the threshold, he found her staring intently at the saddle and bags that lay before her, her brows furrowed. This was the first time he'd been in her tree and it was a much better sight than the mess he'd made. Neat and orderly was how he would describe her chamber. Books lay closed and stack neatly atop one another while scrolls were bound shut. Arya, to his surprise had already forgone her red and black outfit that she wore during the Agaeti Blodhren and was dressed in the usual dark leather that he was accustomed to seeing her in. She glanced up from her objects of interests to regard him quickly. "Eragon."

He inclined his head. "Arya." Moving towards her, he stopped beside her glancing down at Eridor's saddle and bags. "Is there something amiss?"

She shook her head, "I'm contemplating."

"Contemplating?"

Arya nodded and quick jerk of her head and refused to say anything else as she continued to stare at the bags and saddle. Not minding, he turned and began to explore her tree trying to see anything that might be on interest. A fairth caught his eye. He'd seen it before and didn't feel the need to give it much thought. But after what he'd learned from Arya, he'd decided to take another close look at it. The elf was a young or at least in appearance. So this was Faolin. He didn't seem proud, not in the least. His gaze, Eragon thought portrayed a kind look.

This was the elf that Durza had slain. Glancing back towards Arya's back he frowned. Would things have been different if he was still alive? He couldn't help but wonder. His eyes returned to the fairth feeling a small stir of uneasiness. Or was it jealousy? His frown deepened. That was a ridiculous idea…was it? He closed his eyes taking in a deep breath. _What is happening to me? _

After a few moments he opened them again. It must be Saphira's own feelings that were influencing his Eragon concluded. Letting his eyes wander down the wall he found a glass sphere by her bed with a preserved blossom of the black morning glory. Faolin must have made this for her Eragon thought yet again feeling another pang of distaste. Shaking off the feeling he turned something else catching his eye. Another sphere sat on her bed, newly formed and embedded in it was the white rose he'd given her but a few moments ago. Feeling a small smile grace his lips, he turned to find Arya reorganizing her scrolls. He raised a brow as he watched her. It was no doubt going to take her a few moments before she was done. Not minding in the least, he went to sit on her bed causing the glass sphere to roll towards him as he caused a dip in the mattress.

Easily catching it in his hands, he held it up to admire the smoothness of the glass. A minute passed and he turned back to Arya. "Is there an order in particular that you're trying to achieve?"

"Preparations always take time," she replied. She frowned and corrected herself, "Good preparations always take time." Her emerald eyes flickered to his and back. "Are you done with your packing?"

"More or less," Eragon replied. "Though I can say for certain that I wasn't as meticulous as you are, Arya." He felt amusement well within him at the slight irritation at his statement. She was no doubt irritated at the fact that he didn't put much effort into his packing. But as her personality, she didn't question him. "Would you like some assistance?"

She shook her head, her hair framing her face as she did so. "It is but packing."

He nodded not pushing his offer and sat there waiting for her to finish which would be long in coming. But he didn't mind, he enjoyed her company. He would spend his time conversing with her and commenting on how quiet the city seems to have become after the celebrations. In which she would agree and express her own sadness at their return to reality. Other times, silence would engulf them and he would find himself staring either at the sky outside of the teardrop hole or at Arya as she contemplated and packed and repacked.

As he stared at the sky, a question came to mind that made him slightly curious. His gaze flickered to Arya. "Arya?"

"Yes?" she drew out the word, her voice rising a falling with a faint lilt.

"What do you want to do once this is all over?" _If we survive that is,_ Eragon thought but he didn't voice it.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she considered his question and she folded her arms across her chest, deep in thought. Eventually she spoke, "I have spent more time among humans and dwarves than I have among the alfakyn," she said using the elves' name in the ancient language. "I have grown used to it, and I would not want to return to live in Ellesmera. Too little happens here; centuries can go slip by without notice while you sit and stare at the stars. No, I do not wish to resign my life to such lethargy. And as a dragon rider, I also have that duty to uphold. I'll help form the new order with you and Murtagh as representative of my race. Though I may not be able to continue being my mother's ambassador, I can help right the balance of the world, a reason why I left Du Weldenvarden. There will still be much that needs doing if we manage to topple Galbatorix, much that needs putting right and I would be a part of it."

He nodded, expecting that sort of reply from her. She didn't seem the one to shirk her duties, even when things are done and over. As he sat there thinking Arya gestured to him. "What do _you_ want to do?"

He let his hand glide over the glass orb in his hands as he considered the question. "Find a quiet place to live with Saphira. A place of tranquility and peace, maybe somewhere up North or at least that's what I would want if it weren't for my position," said Eragon he glanced up at the ceiling. "I want to help you right the balance of the world as you so say. And I want to see to it that the time of the Riders do come again but it'll be years before that can happen. As well as the fact that there will no doubt be massive uprisings if we do succeed in toppling Galbatorix. I'll assist in keeping Alagaesia in order but I'm afraid to say that I can only put half of my heart into this decision."

"Why is that?"

He felt somewhat depressed at the thought but answered her question, his tone light. "I don't think many would like to see me again as the traitor to their king and to their kind."

"We can only see," said Arya as she turned away from him. He nodded and glanced back out at the teardrop whole. To his surprise he saw Saphira and Eridor flying towards the tree. Within moments, Eridor came into a landing in the chamber, folding his wings and stretching his neck. Eragon raised a brow when Saphira circled away, heading for his tree.

"Good morning, Eridor," Eragon greeted. The emerald dragon turned to him, his eyes bright.

_That it is, Eragon. _His deep voice rumbled in his mind. Standing, Eragon gently placed the glass sphere back on Arya's bed and turned to leave. It was time to get ready and depart from Ellesmera. As he made for the door, Arya called out to him.

"We will meet you at Oromis's hut, Eragon."

He nodded. "Till then."

Descending her tree, he hurriedly made his way back to his own. Saphira was waiting patiently for him when he entered the chamber, standing by the saddle and bags that he had packed. But she was different; as she stood there he felt happiness radiate from her with such a force it made him happy as well. _I'm happy for you, Saphira. _

_Thank you, little one. _Her snout gently brushed his hair. _You don't know how much it means to mean for you to say so. _

He nodded gently stoking her scales. _It's time to depart from here, Saphira. _

_I know, _her large head turned towards him, the sapphire iris of her eyes boring into him. _I'm ready to leave. _

Strapping the saddle onto Saphira, he slung his bags over her back and buckled them down. Once everything was done and ready, he easily climbed into the saddle and the two of them flew to the Crags of Tel'naeir.

Oromis was sitting upon Glaedr's right forearm when they landed in the clearing and standing before him was Murtagh and Arya, the latter surprising him slightly. He would've thought that it would take her a few more moments to get ready. Behind them was Thorn and Eridor. Descending from Saphira's back, Eragon bowed, "Master Glaedr. Master Oromis."

From the corner of his eyes, he finally saw Murtagh after the dragons' gift during the Agaeti Blodhren. He looked much healthier, he stood straighter and his face lacked the usual pained expression that it normally bore. But his appearance wasn't what Eragon expected he didn't look like an elf. His features may have sharpened slightly, giving him a handsome look but for the majority everything remained the same. His round ears, his thick brows, and his strong jaw. And for a moment Eragon felt slightly envious of Murtagh.

_The four of you are ready to return to the Varden are you not? _Glaedr said.

Eragon nodded, speaking for the four of them, "We have."

Though Oromis's face showed an expression of sadness he nodded. "It is only so, with Alagaesia in such disarray, they need the Riders to return to the frontlines to help and assist. Arya, I do not doubt your education. You've had a century to study and learn but remember that even that long span of time is but a short moment in lives long such as ours. You leaving will not be detrimental to you training."

Arya bowed her head giving a show of full respect to the elf. Oromis then turned to him, his expression one of seriousness as he observed Eragon. "And you Eragon must be careful. What was given to you during the ceremony will not lastly infinitely. No, if I were to predict, it will wear away the more you over exhaust yourself. Remember to guard your heart once you leave Du Weldenvarden. But before you go, I ask but one thing, that you and Saphira vow that—once events permit—you will return here."

"I shall."

Appearing satisfied, Oromis reached behind himself and produced an embroidered red pouch that he tugged open. "In anticipation of your departure, I gathered together two gifts for you, Eragon." From the pouch, he withdrew a silver bottle. "First, some faelnirv I augmented with my own enchantments. This potion can sustain you when all else fails, and you may find its properties useful in other circumstances as well. Drink it sparingly, for I only had time to prepare a few mouthfuls."

He handed the bottle to Eragon, then removed a long black and blue sword belt from the pouch. The belt felt unusually thick and heavy in his hands. It was made of cloth thread woven together in an interlocking pattern that depicted the coiling Liani Vine. At Oromis's instruction, Eragon pulled at a tassel at the end of the belt watching as a strip in its center slid back to expose twelve diamonds.

He was moved beyond words. To think that Oromis would give someone the likes of him such a gift…

"Guard it well so that none are tempted to steal it. This is the belt of Beloth the Wise and is one of the greatest treasures of the Riders. These are the most perfect gems that Riders could find. Some we traded for with the dwarves. Others we won in battle or mined ourselves. I'm sure that you will find it a great asset to store energy in the stone in case you deplete your own."

"Thank you, Master," he meant it sincerely as he bowed his head to the elf. Over the past months that he'd spent with Oromis, he had garnered a great deal of respect for him.

Oromis turned to Arya as he grasped a long cloth covered item from the ground beside him, presenting it to her. "I have only one gift for you, Arya but it is not entirely mine. Rhunon had helped me accomplish it as well as the mate, Lord Fiolr, of the late Rider Arva who bestowed it upon you." Eragon watched as Arya gripped it and revealed the object underneath. It was a rider's blade to his surprise. The hilt was fashioned for Arya's hand he could tell for it was light and graceful and the blade was sharp and slim the emerald color of the sheath glinting in the sunlight matching Eridor's scales. "Your blade may be an ancient blade but a Rider shall have a Rider's sword. May Tamerlein bring you much glory and victory in battle."

Eragon watched as she grasped the blade with such tenderness it seemed ironic for the object. "Thank you, Master Oromis." Removing her sword, she slid the blade into place on her right hip. It fitted her greatly, Eragon thought.

Then Oromis surprised both Arya and Eragon by initiating the elves' traditional greeting and thereby indicating his respect for the both of them. "May good fortune rule over you."

"May the stars watch over you." They replied in kind.

"And may peace live in your heart," finished the silver haired elf. He repeated the exchange with Saphira and Eridor. "Now go and fly as fast as the north wind, knowing that you—the new Dragon Riders of our era—carry the blessing of Oromis, the last scion of House Thradurin, he who is both the Mourning Sage and the Cripple Who Is Whole."

_And mind as well_, added Glaedr. Extending his neck, he though the tip of his nose to Saphira, then Eridor, his gold eyes glittering like swirling pools of embers. _Remember to keep your hearts safe, Saphira, Eridor, and especially you Eragon. _

Then Murtagh stepped forward, and for the first time Eragon could never remember seeing him so healthy and strong. He nodded to Arya with a faint smile no doubt at ease with her and their friendship. "I hope you'll have a safe journey back to the Varden. I would like to join you but I can't leave my training as of yet."

"I've heard about your back and I'm glad about the illness being gone from you, Murtagh. Now you shall see your abilities through with the fullest of extent," said Arya. He nodded and then turned to Eragon.

The two of them stood still staring at one another. It was hard to believe them half brothers. No, for Eragon resembled an elf now, much than being a human. His ears were pointed, Murtagh's were round. His face slender, Murtagh's broad. His chin angled, Murtagh's strong. It was refined against roughness. Then Murtagh held out his hand. "Fly well, Eragon."

He stared at it for a moment. Before he hesitantly gripped it. "And you continue your training. Though I know it is frustrating, you cannot give up. Now more than ever."

"I know." Murtagh inclined his head. "Please send my regards to Nasuada."

"I will."

"And tell mother and Brom that I miss them."

Eragon nodded. It was odd to imagine that more than half a year ago or more, that he hated Murtagh to the very core of his existence. And ever since he joined the Varden he found it difficult to maintain a resolute coldness towards his half brother. But that had all changed. He had changed.

They parted with solemn farewells. Saphira and Eridor soared over the tangled forest and Oromis and the others dwindled behind them. Despite the hardships of his stay, Eragon would miss being among the elves, for he found the tranquility and peace soothing to his mind.

Before entirely leaving they made a stop at Tialdari Hall. Saphira landed in the enclosed gardens, careful not to damage any of the plants with her tail or claws. Eragon leaped off without warning as a male elf came out to greet them. It was Arya that address the elf, saying that she wanted to seek an audience with Queen Islanzadi. The elf said, "Please wait here, Princess Arya."

Not five minutes later, the queen herself emerged from the wooden depths of Tialdari Hall, her crimson tunic like a drop of blood among the white robed elf lords and ladies who accompanied her. After the appropriate forms of addresses were observed, she said, "Oromis informed me of your intentions to leave us. I am displeased by this, but one cannot resist the will of fate."

When Arya showed no intentions of speaking, Eragon began. "No, your majesty. But before we left we came to pay our respects before departing. You have been most considerate of us, and we thank you and your House for clothing, lodging, and feeding us. We are in your debt."

"Never in our debt, Rider. We but repaid a little of what we owe you and the dragons for our miserable failure in the Fall. I am gratified though, that you appreciate our hospitality." She paused, her eyes turned to Arya. "When you arrive in Surda, convey my royal salutations to Lady Nasuada and King Orrin and inform them that out warriors will soon attack the northern half of the Empire. If fortune smiles upon us, we shall catch Galbatorix off guard and, give time, divide his forces."

"As you wish…mother." So it was time to rage a full scale war, though Eragon as he took in the information but it would be a dangerous one filled with magic. He glanced at the elf lords and ladies. Arya alone was capable of killing hundreds of soldiers, but an army of elves? It was a dangerous thought.

Islanzadi extended a hand and one of the elf lords handed her a shallow, unadorned wooden box. "Oromis had his gifts for you, and I have mine. Let them remind you of your time spent in Ellesmera under the dusky pines," she opened the box revealing a long, dark bow with reflexed limbs and curled tips nestled on a bed of velvet. Beside it lay a quiver of new arrows fletch with white swan feathers. "It seemed only proper that you should have one of our bows since you share our strength and appearance. I sang it myself from a yew tree. The string will never break. And so long as you use these arrows, you will be hard-pressed to miss your target, even if the wind should gust during your shot."

He bowed. "You honor me that you saw fit to give me the labor of your hand."

Islanzadi nodded and then stepped past him and said, "Saphira, I bought you no gifts because I could not think of nothing your might need or want, but if there is aught of ours you desire, name it and it shall be yours."

_I desire nothing for dragons do not need the secular objects of the world, _said Saphira, _No, I am content with all that you've done for Eragon. I shall never forget it. _

The queen nodded before at last turning to Arya who remained quiet throughout the entire procession. She placed both her hands on each of her daughter's shoulders. "Arya, it pains me to see you leave the forest so soon especially after what you've endured. But because of your duty, it must be so. Be careful. There is much pain in war."

"As I've learned, mother."

Islanzadi gazed at her daughter before embracing her, Arya returning it after a moment. And with that she bade them farewell, turning to return into the hall. Eragon turned and climbed back onto Saphira, strapping his legs in as Arya did the same.

The two of them took flight and for the sake of the elves circle atop the city for a few minutes. With his enhanced vision, Eragon could see clusters of elves drift out of Du Weldenvarden with solemn expressions. With an almighty roar, Saphira released a torrent of flames and seconds later Eridor responded in kind.

Then she aimed south and tore through the sky towards the Hadarac Desert, Eridor flying beside her. Eragon glanced at Arya, her long ebony hair flowing behind her in the wind and sent her a smile that she responded to in kind. They were leaving to meet the destiny that awaited them in Surda.

**Who are we going to see? AxE of course! The moment you've all been waiting for has finally come! Your dreams shall come true soon enough (lol). Anyways, the next chapter is done and I'm about to send it to my beta so maybe it'll be up tomorrow or in a few more days. Who knows? But know this, it shall not disappoint you, my devoted readers! **


	37. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

**Okay so I want to say sorry to my wonderful Beta because I need to get this chapter up! I really do but this will be the last time I'm uploading something without him checking it over. I feel bad. But the reason being is that I typed this chapter with a resolution in mind and I wanted to see it up and posted before I could change my mind. But hopefull this chapter and the rest coming after it shall not disappoint you all. Thoughts on this chapter please! Happy Reading! :) **

It only took the dragons a day of flying until they reached the outskirt of Du Weldenvarden. The rippling grass gave way to tan scrub, which grew ever more scarce until, in turn, it was replaced by sunbaked ground bare of all but the most hardy plants. They had to stop and rest that night for Eridor was still in his gangly youth to fly continuously. It was an uneventful but enjoyable journey. He often spoke to Saphira throughout the flight and sometimes when Arya was up to it, her as well.

And like the time they traveled together through the forest, Eragon had decided to come up with another game. But this time it was a sore mistake for Arya bested him in every turn, for the game was riddles. Whenever he gave her one it didn't take her more than a few minutes before she deciphered its meaning while he had a much more difficult time.

Sometimes the dragon would join in, but mostly they kept to themselves for Eragon knew that they two of them were conversing with one another. No doubt sharing memories and emotions. One time, Eragon had to smile when he saw a flash of Eridor chasing a deer in Du Weldenvarden and in his haste, tripped over a fallen log. Another time he cringed when Saphira showed the emerald dragon the memory of his first flight which caused Arya's mind which was joined with his to tinge with amusement.

On the third day since leaving Ellesmera, the wind rose up behind them and wafted the dragons farther than they could have flown on their own, carrying them entirely out of the Hadarac desert. Near the edge of the waste, they passed over horse mounted nomads who were garbed in flowing robes to ward against the heat. The men shouted in their rough tongue and shook their swords and spears at the dragons but made no attempt to shoot an arrow at Eridor and Saphira.

That night, they made camp at the southernmost end of Silverwood Forest, which lay along Lake Tudosten and was named so because it was composed almost entirely of beeches, willows, and trembling poplars. Instead of taking shelter in the forest itself, they made camp near the lake so the dragons could clean their scales of the sand for Saphira complained that it itched her endlessly when it managed to get stuck deep between her scales.

After collecting some firewood, Eragon squatted in the center of their camp next to the lake and lit a fire for night was fast in coming. While Arya was sitting on the shore of the lake conversing with the dragons, he moved to his bags that he packed his scrolls and texts in and began to review them and the information that he'd collected while he was in Ellesmera. There was nothing useful that could help him, for he had gone over the details and information multiple times. He sighed as he sat there in the light of the fire trying to figure out a way to save his soul.

The violet seal had gradually disappeared the morning they left Ellesmera but he knew that is power still remained for he hadn't had an attack since the Agaeti Blodhren. Even then he couldn't trust in the dragons power for he didn't know how long it would last and whether or not if certain conditions could bring about its disappearance altogether.

He reached up to touch his right eye again. What was it? He'd drawn out the star like pattern on a scroll but there wasn't a text about it that he'd come across it in. Was it the dragons' doings or Galbatorix's?

After a few moments, he heard the sound of Arya's soft footsteps and closed the scrolls he had opened. He didn't want her to see it. Just as he'd finished packing it away, she lowered herself on the ground opposite him. Ever since leaving Ellesmera, her relaxed disposition had disappeared replacing a cautious and alerted elf.

Eragon could tell that she wanted to ask about the scrolls and texts but being her, she didn't ask instead she pointed to a distance across the lake. "The dragons have left." He blinked and turned. True to her word, they weren't swimming in the lake like he'd saw them moments ago. They were no doubt mating. He grimaced at the thought of possibly feeling Saphira's emotions. "You seem displeased."

Eragon shook his head. "I just don't want my emotions to be overcome by Saphira's. It can be rather overwhelming."

Arya nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear as it fell before her face. "I admit that it can be." She remained quiet for a moment before speaking again. "You seem much better."

"I am." he threw a piece of firewood into the fire, watching as sparks crackled and flew into the air. He turned back to Arya, curious. "Are your people ready to go to war with the Varden against the Empire and Galbatorix?"

"We've had a century to prepare for this moment and now that it's come, we will not remain idle in the forest anymore." Her eyes drifted towards the fire. "It may have been a century since our army has marched but when we do; we can cause as much destruction as we can sing to flowers and trees. And my mother being an able commander will see to it that our name is not forgotten in history."

He nodded. "And so we've made the first move in this game we call war."

Her green eyes were bright as she considered him. "And so it would seem." She paused. "Are you ready to fight this war? It will be a long and arduous task."

"I'm just as ready as you are, Arya," said Eragon as he drew a pattern into the dirt beside him. "However long I have to fight to reach Galbatorix, I will fight even if it costs me my life. I won't let him take what's mine anymore."

"Your revenge?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "He'll pay for what he's done in full and whoever gets in my way will be cut down by my blade." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I apologize if I'm merging my personal matters into the affairs of the Varden but I refuse to let his reign stand anymore."

"It is not my place to say."

He nodded and glanced up at the sky, they would only have a few hours respite before they left again. "You should rest; I'll take the first watch." Without another word, she laid down facing the fire for the warmth of the flames before closing her eyes. Within ten minutes her breathing had evened out and she'd fallen into the slumber that most elves wrapped themselves in. Eragon sat there, finally able to see her for the first time. She was a very beautiful person. There wasn't a flaw on her that he could point out and he knew that he was attracted to her but he wasn't fool enough to approach her. He would never do such a thing for it would only burden her.

Arya was the first person beside his mother, Saphira, and his servants that he wanted to protect with his life. That he wanted to see smile from deep down in her heart. He didn't understand it, the tenderness he felt for Arya. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling for the elf. Was it a deep friendship or was it something else? As he sat there gazing at her slender and angled face, he felt the same emotion stir within him as it had countless times before that he'd brushed off. This time it was stronger because of the connection that Saphira and Eridor shared.

He couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand what he felt for Arya. Sighing, he stood and walked to stand on the shore of the lake. Just thinking of it made him feel restless. Tossing his blades onto the ground, he did the one thing that came to mind as he stared at the smooth surface of the water.

Swim.

Not bothering to remove any of his clothes, he waded deep into the water until it was level with his shoulders, the coolness of it seeping into his bones and relaxing his tense muscles. Without another word, he took in a deep breath and submerged himself in the water. Letting his instincts take over, he swam endlessly without a thought in mind.

But after a moment it would drift back towards Arya. What was happening to him? Was it because of Saphira and Eridor mating? He couldn't make sense of it. With a thought of frustration, he swam upwards breaking the surface of the water. Flying a few feet into the air, he leaned forward; bring his hands together in front of him before spearing back into the water. He had to stop thinking. But that in itself was an impossible quest. Eventually after an hour or two of nonstop swimming, Eragon came to a stop.

His body ached but it got his mind off of the subject altogether. Ready to return to the camp to sleep, Eragon began to walk to the shore of the lake, stopping with the water mid chest when he caught sight of Arya standing there before him. She stood waist deep in the water. Suddenly feeling self conscious, Eragon remained there staring at her.

She slowly moved forward towards him, her emerald eyes bright in the dark. "Forgive me for the intrusion but I was unable to sleep." Her voice floated over to him, loud in the silence of the night. "And it seems like you too have something on your mind, Eragon."

He didn't say anything but blinked at her. The second he opened his eyes again, she was gone. What? Glancing over the surface of the water as he searched for her, Eragon called out her name, "Arya?"

There was movement behind him and as he turned, she emerged from underneath the water letting out a breath of air as her familiar scent of crushed pine needles filled his nose. As his eyes focused on her, he felt his breath catch in his throat. She looked much different in the moonlight. Even though she was drenched in water and her hair clung to her face and back, she was still very beautiful. _What's wrong with me?_

He was beyond irritated at his reaction to Arya. It had never happened to him before and he couldn't imagine why it would start now all of the sudden. "You look refreshed." To this she awarded him a smile as her left forefinger began to draw patterns on the surface of the lake, creating ripples in the water.

"It is hard not to be," she paused, her eyes glancing back at him. "Is there something bothering you, Eragon?"

There were many things bothering him but he didn't say that instead he shook his head, "No."

Her eyes narrowed for she didn't believe him he could tell and she asked the question again this time in the ancient language. He stood there for a moment trying to speak around the language but as she'd anticipated he couldn't get the words out.

She turned away from him and instead faced the new moon that hung high in the sky, giving her milk honeyed skim a glowing look. "It was a new moon that night when you rescued me from Gil'ead many months ago." He waited for her to continue. "And in the time that we've spent together we're always saving one another, aren't we? Back in Farthen Dur when you rescued me from Durza, when I saved your life in Du Weldenvarden from the arrow and your illness."

"Circles within circles," murmured Eragon.

She continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. "You said I had saved you back in Gil'ead but it doesn't seem that way."

"What are you talking about?" Eragon asked slowly and hesitantly.

"I know that something is amiss," her emerald eyes found his and the piercing gaze seemed to stare right into his soul. "I've seen it throughout our travels together. You're ill, Eragon. In both mind and body and it doesn't seem to be getting any better."

He glanced down at the dark glossy surface of the water, trying to figure out how to move about the situation without telling Arya about his condition. "I have gotten better." It was true in a way, ever since the Agaeti Blodhren, his mind had been sound.

Even though he'd said it in the ancient language, she ignored it, as if he hadn't said anything at all. "Master Oromis and my mother have been searching for something. Something that could be found in ancient scrolls and texts of magic, the same answers that you are searching for, Eragon." She paused. "I know that I speak out of bounds but I want to help you…however I can."

He stared at her moved by her words but he couldn't bring himself to say it to her. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the fact that his condition was still a threat to him and that even the dragon's magic couldn't cure him of it entirely. When he didn't speak, Arya glanced from him to the moon again. "It is your soul that's troubling you, is it not?"

Eyes widening, Eragon felt his mind go blank for a moment, how did Arya know? "I—"

"What is it Eragon?" she whispered her eyes returning to him.

"You can't help me…" he said, feeling his barriers slowly drop before Arya. Barriers that he tried so hard to keep up. "No one can…not Master Oromis…not Queen Islanzadi…not even Saphira can help me."

"Tell me," her expression was one of concern as she stood before him in the lake, refusing to back down. And for the first time, he was able to experience her stubbornness. She had never refused a lack of answer from him before. But now….

He blinked, and in a low voice told her everything. His lack of half his heart and half of his soul. The bloodlust of the spirit that was chained inside his body that was trying to worm its way in control of his body and his life. That her mother and Oromis had tried countless methods to save him some dangerous, others not so much. By the time he'd finished, her expression went from concern to grief.

"It can't be," Arya whispered.

"I wish it wasn't," said Eragon. "But it is." He sighed. "The dragons have tried their hardest to heal me. But how can you someone that isn't ill but incomplete? Without the other half of my being, I can't live as two halves of one whole. My soul doesn't have the energy to sustain my body and mind."

"But what of the spirit inside you?"

"He was locked away inside my body to keep me from dying for his magic was enough to sustain my life. Without him I will die. But if I'm not careful his need for bloodlust will drive me to insanity. If he takes control of me, he can bend my will with ease." Realization flashed in her eyes and he was sure that she was remembering the time that he had attacked her in the sparring field within Ellesmera.

She didn't say anything for a while and he was sure that she would remain that way for quite some time. After a moment, Arya reached forward, and laid a hand on the right side of his face. Her thumb gently caressed the skin underneath his right eye. "The seal in your right eye…is that keeping the spirit at bay?"

He nodded. "But I don't know for how long or whether or not it'll come off at any moment's notice."

Arya stared at his right eye for a long moment and then she did something he would never suspect her to do. To anyone. She kissed him on the brow over his right eye. Her lips were smooth as it brushed against his skin.

When she pulled away, he found himself staring at her with a mixture of shock and astonishment. What did she just do? The skin where her lips brushed him burned. "I want to stand by you, Eragon…as your friend…as a fellow dragon rider…" she hesitated as if unsure of whether or not to continue. Then steeling herself, she finished her last statement. "And as your mate."

If what she did shocked him, what she said made his mind stop its functions altogether. And he found himself questioning whether or not there was water in his ears making him hear her wrong. "You've asked me whether or not I loved Faolin, and I too have wondered that. In the twenty years that we've traveled together, though I did feel strongly for him, I was not as certain of them as I am now. But in the short amount of time I've spent with you, Eragon. I felt things I've never felt and seen things in new perspectives that I've never thought I would see." She smiled wryly. "You are changing me as Eridor is."

He stared at her, still not comprehending what she was trying to say to him. Everything seemed to remain still, not one sound seemed to penetrate the silence that settled over them. Even the lake was still. "It goes against reason…for I am older than you by decades and yet all this time, I can never see you as anyone else besides my equal. In strength, in wisdom, and in knowledge," her eyes twinkled at the last statement. "You may be young Eragon, but certainly not a child. Not after all you've gone through. You're wise beyond your years and you are nothing like I would expect most to be. There may be those who will look down on my decision for taking such a young mate, but it is of little concern to me. If you feel anything for me then allow me to return my own feelings for the life of solitude that I've led up until now has slowly blinked passed my eyes."

Eragon felt horribly confused. This was the first time, he'd never thought of such a confession from Arya and yet something inside him swelled at her words. An emotion that was foreign and yet comforting.

He noticed how his silence was affecting her for she'd turned her head face away from him, her eyes raised to the star dotted sky and the new moon that hung over them. "Arya," he murmured softly, she turned to face him again, "I don't have anything to give you in return for your feelings. My own isn't enough. I've done horrible deeds…my hands are stained with blood…they aren't for tender caresses."

Her hand came to grip his upper left arm. "You're a good person, Eragon. You've done the best in your situation and even now, you're still trying your best. Let the past be and move forward towards the future."

What was he supposed to do? He'd never had experience in areas such as this. In his entire life, he rarely associated himself with women romantically and never thought that he would. Staring into Arya's eyes, he felt the emotion in his chest burst forth nearly encompassing all of his being. A blazing warmth that he'd never felt before in his life. Instinctively moving forward, he placed a hand on the side of Arya's face. He leaned forward, before hesitating, unsure of himself. But Arya wouldn't stand for his hesitation and closed the remaining distance between them her lips meeting his softly.

Almost immediately, his brain was overwhelmed by the intoxicating fragrance of crushed pine needles and of Arya…It was a strong feeling of ardor that he felt for her, so strong that it warmed him from the inside out. As her lips brushed against his, he hesitantly responded to her at first. But with time, he began to return her kisses, to lean into her, and to part his lips and receive them. Despite the fact that they stood chest deep in the lake, his body was aflame as if he was being burned alive but he didn't feel the pain. Instead he felt a warmth that throughout his travel had been growing and growing with every moment he'd spent with her. Their time together fighting, learning, and conversing with one another. All of those moments in which they came to rely on the other's strength. When she dove willingly into his dangerous mind, when she came after him after his attack. And he knew that Arya would never let him fall.

When he felt Arya's tongue sliding against his lips, he pulled away slightly shocked. She stared at him, her eyes dark and her lips a darker shade of red they normally were. "I'm not sure how…to…" he stopped unsure of what else to say.

To his surprise, she burst out laughing. And the few times he'd heard her laugh, he treasured above all. Smiling up at him, she reached forward again, disrupting the water. "It is all right, Eragon." She leaned forward to capture his lips again. "You will learn soon enough."

And he did. Eventually, when he'd allowed her entrance to his mouth, it felt strange at first but when her tongue gently brushed his, a jolt ran the length of his body. And he instinctively responded to her. After a few light caresses, she became more demanding and he found himself responding in kind. As his lips moved in rhythm with hers, he brought his hand up to wrap tangled itself in her silky hair while the other wrap itself around her slim and slender waist. Though he didn't know what he was doing, he knew that he was right in doing so for her arms came to wrap themselves around his strong neck. As they stood there wrapped in each other's embraces, he felt wonderfully light hearted and for the first time in a long time, truly happy. And it was because of Arya.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Angela's voice echo in his mind like a long forgotten song. _An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary, as the moon indicates—for that is a magical symbol—and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare._

Well, at least she was correct he thought humorously. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare. And so begins his epic romance…together with Arya.

**So what do you think? Good, bad, eh? Anyways, I had always planned for them to get together towards the end of Eldest. My reasoning? There wasn't a good enough time to put it in Brisingr and definitely not Inheritance. I tried to plot towards a Brisingr moment but it felt like the romance was being dragged out to the point that its spread kind of thin. And I felt that this moment was perfect. They're outside of the influence of Du Weldenvarden and Arya just wants to confess before they're swamped into war and politics all over again. Good thinking right? I think so. Anyways, I'm already halfway through the next chapter and I'm having so much fun. If you think you enjoy reading this, just think about writing it! See you all next chapter! :) **


	38. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

**And so here is the next chapter! You know I've been doing really well with updates, I'm kind of proud of myself. Anyways, I already have two more chapters finished but I'm going to give it some time before I update those. Or maybe I'll update one later today or tomorrow? Who knows? Oh, and I was listening to this song by Three Doors Down called Let Me Go and I feel that it explains Eragon's feelings to Arya in the first two books of Inheritance. He ****_loves_**** her but doesn't actually know her well enough...It was a good song. And I'm rereading the cycle again, just to remember the good times...It was a fun run, I have to admit. I'm glad I read it eight years ago, it was like growing up in a magicial world like Harry Potter. Speaking of which does anyone know any good fiction series out there? I need another good read with Inheritance, the Harry Potter Series, and the Hunger Games over. Anyways, I'm ranting, have fun reading! :) **

The following morning, they flew straight to Aberon, the capital of Surda guided by Arya for she knew the way seeing that she'd occasionally visited the city during her time as ambassador to her mother. They hadn't slept since her rather bold confession to Eragon. But she had her reasons for doing so for her doubts about his illness was only hardened by what Master Oromis and Glaedr had told Eragon before he'd left. _To guard his heart_. And from the connection she made when she saw the research he was doing that was all related to the topic of the soul as well as his own statement to her that night of the Agaeti Blodhren. _I'm afraid only half of my heart is in this decision. _And she was right despite the fact that she wished that she wasn't. Eragon's soul was stolen from him, taken by Galbatorix and without it he would die. The thought of it made a chill run the length of her body.

She found herself often glancing at Eragon who was sitting atop Saphira at ease despite the thousands of feet they flew above ground. Ever since the Agaeti Blodhren, she'd found herself facing a new Eragon in appearance and voice but that was the only thing different about him. Everything else was the same when she'd first met him. Subconsciously rubbing the scales on Eridor's neck, she thought about his reaction last night to her words. Utter shock and astonishment. Even Eridor was surprised by the turn of events but he had approved of Eragon without hesitation and Saphira seemed rather ecstatic. But what seemed to change the most between them was the knowledge of what one felt for the other. He had not turned away from her last night in the lake but stood his ground and returned her caresses and kisses. And it wasn't until quite a moment after did she pull away to suggest returning to dry ground for the chilled water ate away at her bones.

She caught his brown eyes as he flew to her left, he favored her a small smile that she returned in kind. But before she could turn away, her gaze lingered a little longer on his right eye.

It was late afternoon when they arrived at Aberon, a low, walled city centered around a bluff in an otherwise flat landscape. Borromeo Castle occupied the top of the bluff. The rambling citadel was protected by three concentric layers of walls, numerous towers, and to her distaste, hundreds of ballistae for shooting down dragons. As they descended downward to the inner ward of the castle, she could see the alarm rising in the people. The sight of two dragons must have unsettled them greatly. The horses tethered in the yard didn't neigh in an uproar like she'd thought. She turned to Eragon to find him dismounting from Saphira without a care in the world. It must be his doing. She followed suit.

Eragon with a show of grace an ease sidled up next to her. "It would be a sad sight when they realize how ineffective their ballistae would be against foes such as us."

His statement amused her greatly and she was about to reply before a company of twelve men, some soldiers, hurried out of the keep towards them. They were led by a tall man with the same dark skin as Nasuada. Halting ten paces away, the man bowed—as did his followers—then said, "Welcome Riders, I am Dahwar, son of Kedar. I am King Orrin's seneschal."

She inclined her head, regarding Dahwar and his company which caused some to fidget where they stood. And within the emotions that she felt throughout the city a tinge of lust edged its way into the ocean of thoughts. She ignored it, used to those feelings in her presence. "And I, Arya ambassador to the Queen of the elves." She didn't use her mother's nor her father's name a habit she'd grown into since she'd left Du Weldenvarden seventy years ago.

The others responded in kind and once introductions were out of the way, they drove to the heart of the matter.

Dahwar bowed again. "I apologize that no one of higher rank than myself is present to greet guests as noble as you, but King Orrin, Lady Nasuada, and all of the Varden have long since marched towards the Empire." Arya nodded, she'd expected as much. "They left orders that if you came here seeking them, you should join them directly."

Eragon's stance changed and knowing him, she could perceive that he was slightly amused. She raised a brow at him and he raised one back, his expression reading, _where else would we go? _It made her want to laugh lightly but she didn't. Instead she turned back to Dahwar.

"Can you show us a map how to find them?"

"Of course, ma'am. While I have that fetched, would you care to step out of the heat and partake in some refreshments?"

"We have no time to waste," said Arya. "The heat matters little."

They turned to Eragon to await his answer. He unfolded his arms and said in a voice unlike his own that she was used to, "A cup of refreshment would be welcomed." One of Dahwar's followers was sent to fetch it. Arya turned back to the man when it seemed he was done talking. Then she began requesting for the provisions that they would need before setting off again. A week's worth provision of fruits and vegetables as well as bread and for their waterskins to be refilled.

Dahwar snapped his fingers, sending another two servants into the keep to gather the supplies. While everyone in the ward was waiting for the men to return he asked directly to Eragon, "Please excuse my impertinence, sir, for I am ignorant of the ways of the Riders, but are you not human? I was told you were."

"That he is," Arya answered, she hesitated, "His appearance only was changed but his origins are still undoubtedly human." Dahwar was tactful enough not to pursue the matter, but she was positive that he would've paid a handsome price for more information for it would put King Orrin on an even playing field as Nasuada.

The food, water, and map were soon brought by two wide eyed pages. At her words, they deposited them beside the dragons, looking terrified as they did, and then retreated behind Dahwar. Kneeling on the ground, he unrolled the map and drew a line northwest from Aberon to Cithri. "Last I heard, King Orrin and Lady Nasuada stopped here for provender. The Varden could be anywhere between Cithri and the Jiet River. This is only my humble opinion, but I would say the best place to look for them would be the Burning Plains."

Arya nodded, she knew of the Burning Plains in her studies or as her people called it: Du Vollar Eldrvarya. _Take a look Eridor, Saphira. _

The two of them took a step back to allow the dragons to lean forward to observe the map and as they did so, Arya motioned to Eragon who stood drinking from the wooden cup that was given to him. He gave her a questioning expression but moved towards her. "Is something the matter?" he asked softly.

"No," she glanced at Dahwar who looked interested in what the dragons where doing but she could tell that he was trying his best to glean any sort of information from them that he could. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he took another drink of water before holding the cup out to her. "Would you like some? It is rather refreshing."

"No thank you." She waved the cup away watching as he took another long drink. "I've had enough water for today."

He chuckled and she could see that he was remembering last night as they stood together in Lake Tudosten. "I have no doubt of that."

When they dragons were done studying the map, they prepared to leave. In short order, she and Eragon packed the supplies, and remounted their dragons. She thanked Dahwar for his services as they were about to take off again. But before they left, Eragon had warned Dahwar of the discord and possible murder brewing between two grooms in the stables.

Arya frowned, that was one reason why she disliked humans sometimes. They were so quick to act on feelings rather than judgment. _But you've taken a human for a mate. _

_That isn't entirely so, he is not one to act on emotions alone. _Arya answered her eyes flickering to Eragon and back to the open sky before her.

_That is true, _Eridor was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, _what will you do about his condition? _

_I…do not know, _her answer irritated her for she refused to acknowledge that there was no other way to save Eragon. _Galbatorix wouldn't want Eragon to die. Not when he is the rider of the last female dragon. We know that for certain. And so we can only believe that he will also being trying to keep Eragon alive long enough for us to approach Uru'baen. _

_I have no doubt that there is a way to save him, but we must hurry and find the answers we need for it isn't just only Eragon who is affected by the spirit. _

She nodded; understanding where Eridor was trying to get at for Saphira was also part of Eragon's mind and soul. Whatever happened to Eragon would have an equal affect on Saphira through their connection. By unspoken consent, they did not stop for the night but rather forged onward through the blackened sky. Of the moon and stars they saw no sign despite the new moon the night before. The dead hours came and went without remiss and when the sun finally returned did the dragons land by the edge of a small lake so Eragon and Arya could stretch their legs and carry out the normal procedures of everyday life that they were unable to do on dragon back.

"It seems we are closing to the Varden," Eragon commented as they sat and ate together.

Arya nodded she'd gleaned as much from the memories of the birds that flew overhead. "It would seem that way."

They continued to eat in silence. Every once and a while she would glance up to find Eragon intently staring at her before quickly glancing away. When she caught him again, she sighed letting a soft sound from her throat. "What is it Eragon?"

"What?" he raised his brow as if he wasn't quite aware of what she was saying. "I was just…admiring…"

This time, she raised her brow in disbelief. It was hard to image him taken by her appearance so when for the past months he didn't even raises a question or look towards her that spoke otherwise. It was new coming from Eragon but not unwelcomed like most approaches she'd received during her lifetime. Arya finished the pear in her hand before moving to sit in front of him, forcing him to look at her straight in the eye. He wasn't the one for initiating intimacy. For he had never experienced it before and though she didn't either, she knew enough to cover common ground for the both of them.

Without warning, she leaned forward and caught his lips with her surprising him. The apple he was eating fell to the ground as he instinctively reached up to intertwine his fingers in her hair. A small smirk slowly formed on her lips when she thought of Eragon's immediate response to her. He may be indifferent to most, but not to her.

After a moment, she pulled away to find Eragon staring at her with an intent expression. "We're mates, Eragon," said Arya, her voice low. "And as such, tender caresses and intimate gestures are common…or will be common between the two of us."

He nodded, "Forgive me; it's just so new…"

"That makes two of us." Her statement seemed to put him at ease for it shined light on the fact that she too was getting acquainted to the idea of them being an intimate couple. She watched as he picked up his apple which was dirtied from the ground before tossing it to the side and grabbing another apple to eat. While he was doing so, she resumed sitting on the ground, pulling out Tamerlein to study. It truly was a beautiful sword, now the only one devoid of a Rider's blade was Eragon. But he didn't seem to mind for his two blades were enough for him.

As she sat there studying the emerald blade, Eragon's reflection was caught in its smooth surface. When he'd realized that she'd saw him, he gestured with his hand to her sword. "You've yet to test out your new blade, Arya."

"There hasn't been a need to draw it from its sheath," said Arya.

"And that is why I'm offering my services," he smiled slightly. "Would you like to spar with me?"

She considered it for a minute, glancing at the dragons, who laid together resting for the moment before shrugging. "Of course." She stood in a fluid motion drawing Tamerlein from its sheath readying it in her hand. It was light as a feather. Eragon positioned himself a good ten yards away from her pulling out both of his swords. After dulling their blades they stood there face to face with one another. This time it was different, despite the countless hours that they'd spent sparring one another in Ellesmera, this session had a different atmosphere.

Her eyes caught a slight movement of his hand and she knew that he would attack her soon. He did. Eragon usually prevailed in their matches. She'd only managed, rarely, to defeat him a handful of times. Her pride when sparring Eragon was always slightly diminished after every practice. But this time, it would be different. She was sure of it. As Eragon approached her, she closed her mind to everything but him. He always feinted the first move, when he would strike and miss, his instinct was to immediately fall back and defend his flank.

He did just that, when he swung for her shoulders and she easily side stepped it, he drew back, jumping a good five yards away. But this time, she followed not giving him the time he needed to regain his bearings. His expression of slight surprise met her eyes as their blades met. He was stronger than her and she knew that she wasn't going to win from brute strength. The only attribute that she had that trumped his was her knowledge and agility. Dancing backwards from his blade, she brought up Tamerlein to deflect a blow.

There was one strategy that she wanted to try but it was a risk…

Deciding to take it, she waited for Eragon to collect himself and then extended a hand towards him, beckoning to him with her fingers. He'd answered to her taunt and came rushing for her. Eragon was too safe with his strength. He was confident in his abilities to defeat her and didn't need to plan ahead before him but she knew him better. When he was but two yards away, she flashed him a bright and wide smile. His reaction was what she'd predicted.

He faltered mid-step entranced by her beauty, his swords halting in mid stroke. A touch of pride entered her mind at her ability to render Eragon into confusion. Without hesitation, she drew up Tamerlein and with the hilt of her sword knocked it into his chest, sending him flying to the ground with a resounding thud, his swords flying from his grip. Before he could get up, she gently laid the tip of Tamerlein against his chest. "Dead."

Eragon laid there for a moment, stunned, his brown eyes staring up into space. Then he began to chuckle before laughing outright. "What in the name of Alagaesia was that technique?"

She smiled as she stared down at him. "A technique that I've reserved especially for you."

He grinned, relaxed despite his loss to her in their match. "If I hadn't known any better I would've called you out for cheating."

"Cheating? No. Exploiting a weakness in my opponent? Yes." Letting Tamerlein drop to her side, she held her hand out to help Eragon up. He laid there chuckling for a few more moments before gripping her hand and standing. With ease, he brushed the dirt from his clothes and went to retrieve his swords with grace. "Would you like to try one more time?"

Eragon nodded. "After that defeat, it is only fair that I redeem myself."

That was the answer she'd expected from him. Going onto a defensive position, she waited for him to approach her but he didn't do it in the way that she'd expected. Instead of running straight for her like he'd used to, he was more cautious and his eyes moved every which way as if assessing her movements. She flicked her hair out of her face and sent him another smile, this time not bothering to unsettle him. He returned it with ease. It seemed that lately, she was able to see him happy. Though she knew it wasn't going to last seeing that they were returning to the Varden where Brom was. There was no doubt in her mind that his family reunion would be anything but awkward.

He moved forward cautiously and she retreated in return, neither gaining on the other. He moved three paces to the right and she moved three paces to the left. To the side, she could feel the dragons' amusement at their practice. And she had to admit, it was somewhat amusing in its own right. She was sure that once they returned to the Varden, the light atmosphere about them would disappear with the emergence of war.

And it wasn't often that she saw him in such a light mood. It must have been the seal over his right that was allowing him the peace to see the world for the first time. Then as if forgoing caution he ran forward arching in towards her from her right. She turned to bring Tamerlein up to block one of his blows. But before she could pull away, his blades encircled hers holding it in place and it became a struggle to free her sword before Eragon could execute his next move. But as she went to do so, he moved his head forward as if to hit her down but instead, he kissed her. Surprise took hold of her for she didn't expect him to initiate gestures as intimate as this between the two of them so quickly. She'd thought it would be her at the end of all their interactions together. Distracted, he easily dislodged Tamerlein from her hand, the blade falling to the ground without resistance.

"Dead," he murmured against her lips. She smiled, knowing full well that if the opponent was any one else besides Eragon, a situation such as this would never happen. It didn't hurt, however, to indulge him. Reaching out with her right hand, she fisted his tunic in her hand pulling him against her. For some reason, every time she kissed him, a flame would erupt in her stomach and she would find it impossible to sate the ever growing fire. It was a feeling she couldn't control and as much as it unsettled her, she found it enjoyable.

When they needed to separate for air, Eragon gave her a wide smile. "What do you call that?" he raised a brow mockingly. "Exploiting a weakness in my opponent?"

She lightly laughed. "I only hope that you don't approach your real enemies with such an attitude. They will not be as…welcoming." Her statement seemed to amuse him greatly.

_What a match, _Saphira's voice echoed in her head. The two of them turned to her. The sapphire dragon was staring at them, her jaws parted in a frightening imitation of a toothy grin. _If I didn't know any better, it would be an odd sight to behold indeed. _

_And slightly disturbing, _Eridor added jokingly.

"I've no doubt about that," said Eragon as he nodded. "We are quite the pair."

"That we are," agreed Arya, she bent down to pick up Tamerlein. Removing the wards about the blade, she returned it to its sheath, Eragon doing the same to his swords. Brushing any dust that had collected on her shoulders off, she straightened her hair out of her face. "If we get the chance, I would like to spar with you more, Eragon."

"It won't be as easy," he warned. "I've few weaknesses, it just happens to be that you are one of them."

Flattered by his words but not showing it, she nodded. "I'm sure I can find the rest soon enough."

"I'm sure you're right." He blinked before turning his head upwards to glance at the sky and the placement of the sun. "It is time to continue. We've tarried for long enough."

That was right; it was time to return to the Varden. A world filled with war and bloodshed. Mounting Eridor as Eragon mounted Saphira, she felt slightly saddened at the light atmosphere they were leaving behind. Eragon wasn't going to be as relaxed in the presence of others, especially his father, and the time that they'd spent together was something she was going to cherish for the next few weeks or so.

They had just taken off again when a long, low brown cloud appeared on the edge if the horizon, like a smudge of walnut ink on a sheet of white paper. The cloud grew wider and wider as the dragons approached it and already, she could see the tension enter Eragon's form from where he sat between the juncture of Saphira's neck and shoulder.

They had reached the Burning Plains of Alagaesia.

**Personally, I loved this Arya POV, it was interesting to write about. Because her character in the cycle is somewhat indifferent but yet caring towards Eragon and to try and expand that to a love interest, it was neat. And I really enjoyed it. So from now on, I'll try to keep Arya's character in canon but it'll be hard because the series never really expressed her as a person that could respond intimately to anyone really. But I love Arya, she's probably one of my favorite female characters throughout any novel really. Well, maybe she has some competition with Ginny but then again, they're from different series. Anyways, I hoped you all enjoyed reading this! I'll upload the next chapters soon! **


	39. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

**800 Reviews! You guys all deserve an extra chapter! (Sigh, I spoil you all :]) But a heads up this chapter and the next chapters are fillers for the upcoming battle. I need to cover everything in these chapters before I can get the action packed adventures going because from the Battle of the Burning Plains and onwards, everything is going to get crazy. I'm really excited to write the battle, I've always wanted to do an epic showdown thing or something like. But anyways have fun reading! **

Eragon coughed as Saphira descended through the layers of smoke, angling toward the Jiet River, which was hidden behind the haze. He blinked and wiped back tears. The fumes made his eyes smart. Through his connection with Saphira, he could feel her irritation at the stinging in her eyes. Closer to the ground, the air cleared, giving Eragon an unobstructed view of their destination. The rippling veil of black and crimson smoke filtered the sun's rays in such a way that everything below was bathed in a lurid orange. Next to him, he could see Arya shielding her eyes from the fumes in the air. They were not doubt smarting like his were.

The Jiet River laid before them, as thick and turgid as a gorged snake, its crosshatched surface reflecting the same ghastly hue that pervaded the Burning Plains. Even when a splotch of undiluted light happen to fall upon the river, the water appeared chalky white, opaque and opalescent and seemed to glow with an eerie luminescence all its own.

Two armies were arrayed along the eastern banks of the oozing waterway. To the south were the Varden and the men of Surda, entrenched behind multiple layers of defense, where they displayed a fine panoply of woven standards, ranks of proud tents, and the picketed horses of King Orrin's cavalry. Though strong as they were, Eragon knew that their numbers were but a small part of the army that Galbatorix possessed.

Emerging from the clouds, the dragons twisted and dove towards the Varden as fast as they dared. As they neared the camps, a sudden wave of panic assaulted his mind which was on alert for any hostilities. The Varden's sentinels were in a state of alarm for they've never actually seen Saphira or Eridor. Fear made them ignore their common sense, and they released a flock of barbed arrows that arched up to intercept them. Their aim, Eragon thought, was very precise. Rising his right hand, he murmured, "Letta orya thorna." The arrows froze in place, with a flick of his wrist and the word "Ganga," he redirected them, sending the darts boring towards barren land so they could bury themselves in the soil. He missed one though for it was sent a few seconds after the first volley. With ease, he leaned as far right as he could, and faster than any normal human and maybe even some of the swiftest elves, he plucked the arrow from the air as Saphira flew past it.

It was a plain arrow, a less elegant object than the arrows that Queen Islanzadi had bestowed upon him.

Only a hundred feet from the ground, the dragons flared their wings to slow their descent before alighting first on their hinds legs then on her front legs as they came to a running stop among the Varden's tents.

Without a second thought, Eragon dismounted Arya alighting on the ground next to him seconds later. "Did any of the arrows hit you?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "None made it past your magic to try our wards but even if they did, arrows such as those will never pierce our skins."

He had no doubt about it for he was positive that their wards would prevent the shafts from making it close to them by even a yard. But still it was always safe to ask. As they stood there, a dozen of warriors with awestruck expressions gathered about the dragons. From within their midst strode a big bear of a man whom Eragon recognized: Fredric, the Varden's weapon master from Farthen Dur, still garbed in his hairy ox-hide armor. "Come on, you slacked-jawed louts!" roared Fredric. "Don't stand here gawking; get back to your posts or I'll have the lot of you chalked up for extra watches!" at his command, the men began to disperse with many a grumbled word and backward glance. Then Fredric drew nearer and, Eragon could tell, was startled by the change in Eragon's countenance, if anything he was sure he looked unrecognizable to him anymore. Thinking about his new appearance made him feel slightly uneasy. The bearded man did his best to conceal the reaction by touching his brow and saying, "Welcome, Shadeslayer, argetlam. I can't tell you how ashamed I am you were attacked. The honor of every man here has been blackened but this mistake. Were the four of you hurt?"

"No."

Relief spread across Fredric's face. "Well, there's that to be grateful for. I've had the men responsible pulled from duty. They'll each be whipped and reduced in rank…Will that punishment satisfy you, Rider?"

"I want to see them," said Eragon.

Sudden concern emanated from Fredric; it was obvious that he feared that Eragon wanted to enact some sort of cruel and unusual punishment on the sentinels. Arya, he saw, was also curious of what he wanted but she didn't express the same concern as the weapons master did. "If you'd follow me, then, sir." He said.

He led them through the camp to a striped command tent where twenty or so miserable-looking men were divesting themselves of their arms and armor under the watchful eye of a dozen guards. At the sight of Eragon, Arya, and the dragons, the prisoners all went down on one knew and remained there, gazing at the ground. "Hail, Shadeslayer, Argetlam!" they cried.

He said nothing but walked along the line of men while he studied their minds. It reminded him of the time he served in the Empire. As commander of the Royal army, he had overseen many of the soldiers' training, as well as their punishment when they committed a wrongful crime. Finally, he stopped, turning to them. "You should be proud of your quick reaction to our appearance. If Galbatorix attacks, that's exactly what you should do, though I doubt arrows would prove any more effective against him than they were against us." The sentinels glanced up at him in disbelief. "I only ask that in the future, you take a moment to identify your target before shooting. Next time, I might be too distracted to stop your missiles. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Shadeslayer!" they shouted.

He moved to stand before the second to last man in the line and held out the arrow he'd caught. "I believe this is yours, Harwin."

With an expression of wonder, Harwin accepted the arrow from Eragon. "So it is! It has the white band Ii always paint on my shafts so I can find them later. Thank you, Shadeslayer."

He nodded before turning to Fredric. "These are good and true men, and I want no misfortune to fall upon them because of this event."

"I will see to it personally," said Fredric, and smiled. Standing behind him, Arya sent him a questioning look. Eragon slightly raised the corner of his lips.

"Now, can you take us to Lady Nasuada?"

"Yes, sir."

As he left the sentinels, Eragon knew that his kindness had earned him their undying loyalty, and that tidings of his good deeds would spread throughout the Varden. To win this war, he had to appear as their ideal vision of a warrior. And he would try his best to fill that role to support Nasuada.

The path Fredric took through the tents brought them in contact with many of the Varden. Most of them to his slight irritation stared in silent wonder at the group as they passed though he didn't know whether or not it was at the dragons or at Arya, or maybe it was at him. But what he didn't like most was the open attraction that his mate seem to be unconsciously garnering from the men that they'd passed. Even if it was just a fleeting thought or emotion.

Their trip ended near the back of the Varden, at a large red pavilion flying a pennant embroidered with a black shield and two parallel swords slanting underneath. Fredric pulled back the flap and Eragon and Arya entered the pavilion while the dragons remained outside their heads too large to fit through the opening at once.

A broad table occupied the center of the furnished tent. Nasuada stood at one end, leaning on her hands, studying slews of maps and scrolls. Though she was dressed in a gown fit for royalty, her stature was tense as if something was bothering her. Standing before her to his pleasant surprise was Desdemona and Bard.

Nasuada turned her almond shaped face towards him. "Eragon?" she whispered.

He twisted his hand over his sternum in the elves' gesture of fealty and bowed. "At your service."

"Eragon!" this time Nasuada sounded delighted and relieved. Bard and Desdemona both sent him wide smiles, one brighter than the other.

"Lord Eragon!"

"Welcome back!"

"It's good to be back with the Varden," said Eragon.

"And it's good to see you back," Nasuada turned to Arya. "You as well, Arya."

"Your words are welcoming," she answered. She glanced at the map and the apparent conference that they'd interrupted. "Has something gone amiss?"

"I shall explain later," the leader of the Varden returned her gaze to Eragon with a wondering expression. "What has happened to you, Eragon?"

And so Eragon a full account of what had befallen them since they left Nasuada in Farthen Dur so long ago. Much of what he said, he sensed that she had already heard from the dwarves, but she let him speak without interruption. Eragon had to be circumspect about his training for he had given his words not to reveal anything about his training nor his teachers. But he did his best to give Nasuada a good idea about his skills. Of the Agaeti Blodhren, he just described briefly of its healing and augmentation on both him and Murtagh. The latter interesting Nasuada to a high degree.

"Murtagh's scar is gone then?" asked Nasuada. He nodded. A few more sentences served to end his narrative, briefly mentioning the reason they had left Du Weldenvarden and then summarizing their journey thence. He hesitated when he came across he and Arya's bond as mates. As his liege lord, Nasuada had the right to know about who and how he associated with them…but it wasn't just his to tell. His eyes flickered over to Arya who was standing beside him, listening to his narrative. _Should I or should you? _

Her eyes bright, she reached up to brush her hair from her face. "There is also something you should know, Nasuada." Arya turned to him, though she spoke to the dark skinned leader of the Varden. "As Eragon's liege lord, you have the right to know that Eragon and I have become mates, the equivalent of husband and wife in your terms." To emphasis her point, her hand gently brushed his and he grasped it.

The silence that penetrated the tent was great. No one moved. As he expected they were shocked to the core about the news. Desdemona and Bard were baring expressions of such astonishment he wondered if their heart didn't stop momentarily in their chest. Nasuada was staring at them and he was positive that she'd never expected this moment to come. After a few moments, she cleared her throat. "Then let me congratulate the two of you on this union…But forgive me if I'm being frank, Arya. I hope this doesn't interfere with Eragon's duty."

"There will always be a line between personal feelings and duty," said Arya, relieving Nasuada of any doubts she had of Eragon favoring the elves over the Varden.

"Well," she smiled at them. "It is good that you two have one another. Beautiful things can come from unexpected places, don't you agree?"

"Whole heartedly," said Arya. Eragon nodded.

Desdemona and Bard seemed to have recovered from their shock and they too congratulated Eragon and Arya. Though Desdemona's statements were slightly stiff and Bard's was bordering disbelief and bewilderment. Deciding that it was time to move past his personal life, Eragon moved forward, letting go of Arya's hand to point at the maps. "What is the situation here?"

Nasuada sighed and told them of how rumors were spreading that the Empire's army was marching towards Surda to confront the Varden. Though rumors, she'd refused to let it go without caution and the entire Varden was on a high state of alert. So Galbatorix had finally tired of waiting for the Varden to confront him…Or did he have something else in mind. "It doesn't look well on the surface but with you and Arya here to lend us a hand, we can hold our ground."

"He must be hiding them using magic," said Eragon as he studied the map. "A magician as powerful as Galbatorix would have no difficulties in hiding an army of thousands as it marches across Alagaesia. He must have fooled the scrying method." He sighed as he thought. If Galbatorix was willing to send an army all the way to Surda then he wasn't fooling around anymore. "I can easily say that this force won't be small. He's no doubt sent a hundred thousand soldiers to fight."

The news seem to surprise them, but only slightly. "I've thought as much," said Nasuada. "It would be foolish to send a small force this far from his Empire."

"It will be a bloody confrontation," said Arya as she moved forward to study the maps as well, her brows creased. "But it is unavoidable after all."

"Sheer number alone isn't always the determining factor in war," said Eragon, he turned to Bard and Desdemona. "Skill and talent is what it takes to survive." The two of them nodded with proud expressions. "Do not worry yourself too much over this, Nasuada."

"It is comforting to know that I have apt fighters and magicians underneath me," she said reassured. "And the dwarves will eventually be joining us, which will boost our numbers significantly. Do you think Galbatorix will fly out to confront us?"

"No," of this, Eragon was certain. "He won't leave his castle for anything. He's too much of a coward. If he loses, he'll just count on us to march to Uru'baen." This piece of information sent a surge of energy through them, knowing that their greatest enemy wasn't coming to confront them.

Just then, Eragon felt a strange mind approaching, one that knew he was watching and yet did not shrink from the contact. He could tell that Arya must have felt it to, for she tensed, her eyes darting to the entrance to the tent. They stood there waiting as a black haired girl appeared. She stared at him with violet eyes then said, "Welcome Shadeslayer, Argetlam. Welcome Saphira and Eridor."

The sound of her voice made him uneasy for it did not belong to a child but rather an adult. "Who are you?" he asked already having an answer but wanting confirmation. Without answering the girl brushed back her glossy bangs and exposed a silvery white mark on her forehead, exactly like Eragon's gedwey ignasia. He knew whom he faced.

The child that Murtagh had blessed and suddenly he felt a strange connection to her. To feel pain at such a young age…No one moved as Eragon went to girl. Slowly dropping to one knee, Eragon took her right hand in his own; her skin burned as if with fever. She did not resist him, suddenly overwhelmed, Eragon spook to her in the ancient language as well as with his mind for her to understand. "I am sorry for your pain, a burden that you shouldn't bear as young as you are. In your heart, I hope you have room for forgiveness for what has happened to you."

Her eyes softened, "I do but only if Murtagh comes forward with his fault. For he has condemned me with a fate worse than death. My entire life is devoted to feel the suffering of those around me. His spell compels me to drive myself before pain. And when I resist these urges, it costs me greatly. I cannot sleep at night for the strength of my compulsion."

Even though the pain was not his to bear and the mistake from Murtagh, he felt a sudden ache in his chest as he thought of her condition. "It is not your fault that I am what I am, Rider." He didn't answer her. "Though you take the blame for what you have not done and shield yourself behind cold indifference, deep down you are a good person. And I thank you for feeling my pain."

"You don't have to live like this forever," said Eragon his expression determined. "The elves have taught Murtagh how to undo a spell and once he returns to the Varden, he will see to it that you're healed. If not, then I shall do it."

For a moment the girl seemed to lose her formidable self-control. A small gasp escaped her lips, her trembled against Eragon's and her eyes glistened with a film of tears. Then just as quickly, she hid her true emotions behind a mask of cynical amusement. "Well, we shall see. Either way, Murtagh must first return and even then there will be a war upon us."

He nodded, knowing that her knowledge of pain was an advantage for Nasuada in that she could sense any assassin's intentions to harm the leader of the Varden. It was a crude way of protection for she'd actually become the shield that she was intended to be. He frowned. "Elva was the one who saved me from the assassin in Aberon."

He bowed his head to Elva, "I am in your debt for saving my liege lord."

Elva inclined her head, showing that she'd accepted his gratitude. As if she'd had seen enough, Nasuada made her way around the table. "Come now," she said. "I must introduce the four of you to Orrin and his nobles. Have you met the king before Arya?"

She shook her head, "It's been a while since I've last visit Surda."

As they left the pavilion—Nasuada in the lead, with Elva by her side while Bard and Desdemona covering her flank—Eragon and Arya walked closed to one another speaking in low tones of what had transpired. And he could tell from the slight edge in her voice the sadness she felt at seeing a child like Elva forced to feel the burden of everyone's pain. Children, Eragon had came to learn, was cherished by elves beyond anything else.

They soon arrived at another large pavilion, this one white and yellow—although it was difficult to determine the exact hue of the colors. Once they were granted entrance, Eragon was slightly astonished to find the tent crammed with an eccentric collection of beakers, alembics, retorts, and other instruments of natural philosophy. Whoever had a passion for these toys, Eragon though it was a foolish idea to bring it to a battlefield.

"Eragon, Arya," said Nasuada. "I would like you to meet Orrin, son of Larkin and monarch of the realm of Surda."

From the depths of the tangled piles of glass emerged a rather tall, handsome man with shoulder-length hair held back by the gold coronet resting upon his head. His mind, like Nasuada's was protected behind walls of iron; it was obvious he had received extensive training in that skill. And thought Orrin seemed pleasant enough, Eragon found him to be eccentric in mind and he didn't trust his leadership. He seemed to want more for glory than for honor.

As they conversed, Eragon was slightly relieved that for every question that Orrin asked about his stay with the elves, Arya would easily fend them off. He found himself trying to maintain a polite appearance as each earl that paraded past him insisted on shaking his hand, telling him what an honor it was to meet a Rider, and inviting him to their respective estates. Eragon like Arya, went to memorize their names and titles knowing full well that in doing so, it would not put Oromis to shame. And though he was growing irritated as time went by, he caught Arya giving him a glance as her conversation with one of the earls came to a pause. He slightly shrugged before turning back to King Orrin and Nasuada. He disliked politics but as a Rider, he had to play his part.

When at last they won free of Orrin's pavilion, Eragon asked Nasuada, "What will you have of me, Nasuada?"

She eyed him with a curious expression. "What do you think? You are apt at politics, a skilled swordsman, and a deadly magician. How do you think you can best serve me, Eragon? You know your own abilities far better than I do." Even Arya watched him now, waiting to hear his response.

It took him only a moment to think of it, "I shall take control of Du Vrangr Gata, as they once asked me to, and organize them underneath me so I can lead them into battle. Working together, we can easily dispatch Galbatorix's magicians."

"That seems an excellent idea."

_Is there a place, _asked Saphira, _where we can leave our bags? I don't want to carry them or this saddle any longer than I have to. _

When Eragon repeated her question, Nasuada said, "Of course, you may leave them in my pavilion, and I will arrange to have a tent erected for the both of you, where you can keep them permanently." Returning to the pavilion, Nasuada said to Eragon, "Report to me once you have settled matters with Du Vrangr Gata." The she pushed aside the tent flap and disappeared inside with Elva along with Bard and Desdemona who seemed to be teetering on the edge of indecision before he motioned for them to follow.

Arya turned to him, "You seem irritated."

"That's because I am," he sighed rubbing his face tiredly. "A child cursed to bear the pain of others, an army marching from the Empire to face us, as well as taking lead of an organization that I'm sure will not welcome me. It irritates me slightly."

"A feeling I can connect with," said Arya. "At times, events do seem to become slightly…annoying." He raised a brow not expecting it from her but then again, she must not enjoy having to converse with hot headed humans for the better part of her life. "In any case, you must hurry."

"You will be staying with Nasuada?"

"That is where I am needed, unless you would like me to accompany you." She stared at him waiting for his answer. He shook his head.

"This I am capable of," when Nasuada's voice emanated from inside the pavilion, Eragon gestured towards it. "We are both needed elsewhere, Arya. I shall see you once I resolve the situation with Du Vrangr Gata."

She nodded turning to leave but she faltered as if unsure of herself. Then she turned to him again before kissing him softly on the lips. "Do not let your irritation get the best of you…especially with Trianna." With that she turned and swiftly left leaving Eragon with Saphira and Eridor. He would have to remove their bags then seeing as she was now preoccupied.

His mood slightly better, he turned and began to pick his way through the tents. It was going to be a long day as they prepared for battle. He was sure of it. Ignoring the looks that he received, he sought out the magicians with the use of his mind.

**And this chapter is done! Also, did you all know that my chapters are longer than they used to be? Usually I try to aim for the 3,000 word mark but ever since I've read Inheritance, it's hard to keep it under 4,500 words lately. The motivation I get can simply amaze me. And you know something, when I'm writing this its a different experience when reading it. Because I usually don't remember everything I write and when I read it I always think "Did I really write that? Wow!" lol Just something to share with you all. But I'll see you all again next chapter. **


	40. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

**Another rather long chapter that I've had fun writing. But besides that it's so lengthy I want to keep my AN short this time. I just want to say that it will take another two filler chapters before you can all read the Battle of the Burning Plains and Eragon's new (or old) nemesis. And those next two filler chapters are already done and one is rather lengthy. I think around 5,300 words. But I'll upload it soon. Also, I would like to adress the "Rated M" questions I've been getting. This story is rated M for the violence that will byt coming up as well as some lemons (which won't be for a while, sadly). But that is the answer. Anways Happy Reading! **

Before he left Nasuada's pavilion, he'd unbuckled the saddle and bags from both of the dragons, letting his fall to a heap on the ground. While he gently placed Arya's next to his knowing that it would no doubt irritate her if he were to treat her belongings with such crude methods. Before he left his belongings, however, he dug through his bag to pull out the gifts that Islanzadi bestowed him: the quiver and bow. He placed the quiver across his back and he was pleased to find that it could hold the bow the elf queen had sung for him.

Eragon and Saphira had set out together to find Trianna, while Eridor opted to remain behind with Arya, poking his head through the entrance of the pavilion to listen to the on goings. And though Eragon was glad to be of service to the Varden, he felt slightly annoyed at not being able to see his mother. It would have to wait then. They had gone no more than a few paces when he sensed a nearby mind that was shield from his view. That must be one of the magicians. They veered towards it.

Twelve yards from their starting point, they came upon a small green tent with a donkey picketed in front. To the left of the tent, a blackened cauldron hung from a metal tripod placed over one of the malodorous flames birthed deep within the earth. Cords were strung about the cauldron, over which were draped nightshade, hemlock, rhododendron, savin, bark of the yew tree, and numerous mushrooms, such as death cap and spotted cort, all of which Eragon recognized as poisons. And standing next to the cauldron, wielding a long wooden paddle with which she stirred the brew was Angela the herbalist. At her feet sat Solembum.

"Are you planning to poison an army?" asked Eragon as he approached her, curious with what she needed all of the various poisons for.

She lifted her gaze from the cauldron to face him, her expression becoming ghoulish and twisted underneath the flickering green flames, making the smile she wore out of place. "Ah, Eragon, so you've returned!"

"That we have," he said answering for both him and Saphira. He gestured towards her cauldron again. "Are you planning to poison someone?"

"Don't mind this," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I can assure you that you aren't the one I want to poison. But for your half brother…I'm afraid to say that I could club him over the head with a mallard and still want to poison _him._"

He smiled, amused at her response. She was talking about Elva and Murtagh's curse. "I'm sure you just merely bluff, but I'm afraid it would take more than a mallard and poison to kill him now." Angela's expression grew curious.

"And why is that?"

He briefly explained to her about the Agaeti Blodhren, and the more he spoke the more interested her expression grew until he reached the end. "My, it looks like plenty of interesting events have taken place during your stay with the elves. But that's beside the point. Have you met Elva yet? Have you seen what your half brother did to the poor girl?"

"I have."

"You have!" she stopped stirring the mixture that she was experimenting with to stare at him in disbelief. "Then why don't you say anything about it? Your blockhead of a brother has enslaved a child to the pain of the world and yet all you can do is stand there with barely any words?"

Eragon stood there allowing Angela to rant about his informing him in many explicit, detailed, and highly inventive terms, exactly how great a blockhead Murtagh was and that it seemed to flow through their family. If it was any normal person, he would've ripped their heart from their chest before they could get any further insult out of their lips. But ever since he'd first met Angela, he'd gone quite entertained with her eccentric personality. She definitely was unique in her own way.

When she finally paused for breath, he said, "You're quite right, and I'm sure you'll like to hear that once Murtagh arrives he will no doubt remove the spell. And even if he doesn't then I shall do it."

Angela blinked three times, one right after the other, and her mouth remained open for a moment in a small "O" before she clamped it shut. With a glare of suspicion, she asked, "You're not saying that just to placate me, are you?"

"I would never."

"Ah…well, then, that's settled, isn't it?" She flashed him a wide smile and then strode past him to pat Saphira on her jowls. "It's good to see you again, Saphira. You've grown and I must say, your scales seem brighter."

She was flattered by the herbalist's comments. _Well met indeed, Angela. _

As Angela returned to stirring her concoction, Eragon said, "That was an impressive tirade you gave."

"Thank you, I worked on it for several weeks, but it seems lacking a little, maybe I should add in an Urgal or two to emphasis my point when I meet Murtagh again." She thought for it for a few moments before nodding. "Yes, I think I will."

"I'm sure it will be as colorful as what you've told me," said Eragon watching as she stirred the brew in the cauldron. "Though Murtagh and I may have changed greatly, you don't look any different."

"Time has no restraint on one if they understand its concept," she said mysteriously before sending him another glance. "Though you seem more relaxed than before. Could it be because of a certain elf?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough."

"That I will." She leaned to the side, grabbed a mug from a bench next to her, and offered it to Eragon. "Here, have a cup of tea."

Eragon glanced at the deadly plants surrounding them and then back at Angela's open face before he accepted the mug. Trusting that she would not poison him, did he drink the tea. It was delicious. At that moment, Solembum padded over to Saphira and began to arch his back and rub himself up against her leg, just as any other cat would. Leaving Saphira to speak with the werecat, he took another drink of the tea.

"So," said Angela, "I assume you already spoke with Nasuada and King Orrin." He nodded. "And what did you think of dear old Orrin?"

Lacking the caution of words, he pondered it for a moment. "He's as eccentric as the next person. But I wouldn't call him a fool."

"Interesting observation," said Angela as she nodded. "You wouldn't call him a fool. But I would call him a moonstruck fool on Midsummer Night Eve."

"He must be crazy to have carted so much glass all the way from Aberon."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "What's this now?"

"Haven't you seen the inside of his tent?"

"Unlike some people," she sniffed. "I don't ingratiate myself with every monarch I meet." So he described it to her. Angela had abandoned her stirring and listened to him with great interest. The instant he was done, she began bustling around the cauldron gathering the deadly plants about them with tongs. "I think I had best pay Orrin a visit. The two of you will have to tell me about your trip to Ellesmera at a later time…Well, go on, both of you. Be gone!"

Eragon shook his head as the short little woman drove him and Saphira away from her tent, and he still holding the cup of tea. She was the most eccentric person he'd ever met and he was sure that she would remain that way for the next decade or so.

From there it took them almost half an hour to locate Trianna's tent, which apparently served as the unofficial headquarters of Du Vrangr Gata. The tent was hidden behind a spur of rock that served to conceal it from the gaze of enemy magicians in Galbatorix's army.

As Eragon and Saphira approached the black tent, the entrance was thrust open and Trianna strode out, her arms bare to the elbow in preparation to use magic. Behind her clustered a group of determined if frightened looking spell casters, many of whom Eragon recognized for he had seen them during the battle in Farthen Dur, either fighting or healing the wounded.

Eragon watched as Trianna and the others reacted with now expected surprise at his altered appearance. Lowering her arms, Trianna said, "Shadeslayer, Saphira. You should have told us sooner that you were here. We've been preparing to confront and battle what we thought was a mighty foe."

"I'm glad you didn't for it would've been disastrous for both of us if not the Varden as well," said Eragon.

"And why have you graced us with your presence now? You never deigned to visit us before, we who are more your brethren than any in the Varden."

"I have come to take command of Du Vrangr Gata." As he expected the news caused many to react in surprise while Trianna stiffened. Knowing that the sorceress was no doubt offended but his sudden act, he strove forward, not wanting to prolong the conflict. "It is not out of criticism in replacing you as leader of Du Vrangr Gata. If events allowed, I would have preferred to leave you amongst yourselves. But with war nigh upon us, there must be someone to lead you all into battle. I may be strong but I cannot always indefinitely be victorious not when I'm occupied in the fighting. It would be foolish for us to face Galbatorix's pet magicians divided. And I don't plan to see our army slaughtered. And I'm sure you don't either, Trianna."

As he spoke he felt several magician probe at his mind causing his previous irritation to spring forward. He would give them a moment to retreat but if they didn't, he would force it upon them. A moment passed, during his training in Ellesmera, he'd practiced mental defense with Arya on a constant basis, the minds of magicians as weak as those in Du Vrangr Gata was not threatening to him at all. Quick as could be, he retaliated by attacking the minds of his attackers, his own as sharp and unforgiving as a dagger, forcing them to retreat behind their own barriers. As he did, Eragon felt the satisfaction of seeing two men and a women flinch and avert their gazes.

"I'm not here to usurp your authority nor do I wish to," Eragon continued as if the attack never happened. "I need to work with Du Vrangr Gata and give you orders as a Rider. Orders that I have to know will be obeyed without question. The chain of command must be established. That said you will retain the greater part of your autonomy. Most times, I'll be too busy to devote my attention to Du Vrangr Gata. Nor do I intend to ignore your counsel, but know this I have no plans in controlling neither you nor your practices. Now, let me ask again, will you lend me your help, for the good of the Varden?"

Trianna paused, then bowed. "Of course, Shadeslayer—for the good of the Varden. It will be an honor to have you lead Du Vrangr Gata."

"Then let us begin."

Over the next few hours, Eragon talked with every one of the assembled magicians, although a fair number were absent, seeing that they were busy with one task or another to help the Varden. And from the time he spent getting acquainting to them did he learn of their inexperience. Most of them didn't know the ancient language to speak it fluently and they were ignorant of numerous applications of gramarye. Compared to his own servants, Bard, Desdemona, and Rosalie, who were all apt magicians, the members of Du Vrangr Gata with the exceptions of a few and Trianna could barely be called magicians. It wasn't much to work with but he had to make the most of it. A bit more than a third of the magicians specialized in healing. After teaching them a few more spells and enchantments to memorize, he sent them on their way to learn them. The remaining magicians, he'd established a chain of command. He at the head, and Trianna as his lieutenant. It took quite longer to get the rest of the magicians to cooperate with one another, which added to his irritation again.

When he felt that he had tested each and every magician present thoroughly did he finally leave, but not before extracting a promise from Du Vrangr Gata that they would be ready and willing when he called upon them for assistance. Returning to Nasuada's pavilion, he wasn't surprised to find everyone standing around the table discussing strategy and tactics. She glanced up when he entered. "You've sorted out the problem with Du Vrangr Gata?"

He nodded. "I apologize for it taking longer than I'd expected. There were some complications."

She smiled at his response as if knowing what he spoke of. "I see, but I'm pleased to see your resolution. This will no doubt come out in our advantage."

He glanced at the maps and scrolls, "Have you been discussing strategy?"

"More or less, but without certainties, we can only speculate what will happen in this upcoming battle." Her expression was grim as her eyes returned to the maps. "We need to rally the army together and have everyone prepared. The only problem is trying to find a commander to lead them. I would have you as commander of the army, Eragon but it's too risky."

"King Orrin will want to have a say in this." Arya murmured, her brows furrowed. "He will not relinquish his command as easily."

"Yes, there's also that to contend with." Nasuada sighed. "Tomorrow we will assemble with him to speak of it more. But we've discussed at length for today and it would be counterproductive to tire ourselves needlessly before the battle."

Eragon nodded, and bowed slightly, "By your leave, my lady."

"You are dismissed." They left the pavilion one after the other. Once outside did he turn to his servants. They looked much better than when they served him in Uru'baen.

"The sun seems to be doing the two of you some good," he commented.

"That it has my lord," Desdemona agreed as she slightly smiled at him. "You look well."

"I am," his eyes caught Bard patting Saphira on her snout and warmly welcoming her back to the Varden. "I trust that you've been well since I've left?"

"More or less."

Saphira let out a yelp and they turned to her as she tried to evade Bard. _Stop that, it tickles! _Eragon fought to retain a smile at the game they were playing. As always, his cook was fearless in trying to tickle Saphira. "Much have happened since you've left." Her violet eyes flickered to Arya and back. Eragon nodded.

"I would like to see my mother, Desdemona," said Eragon finally getting to the heart of the matter. "Can you lead me to her?"

She hesitated, an expression of uncertainty crossing her expression. "Of course, this way." She turned to lead them through the rows of tents and to his surprise, Arya followed. He'd half expected her to retire to her tent. Following them was the dragons and Bard who amiably told them of the on goings of the Varden since they'd left for Ellesmera. It took them half an hour to reach the tent which was situated in south eastern corner of the Varden. It was a large tent fit for eight but he was sure that it was his servants own doings to give his mother some comfort. As they approached, Finny who was lighting a fire to cook what looked like a chicken, glanced up in surprise.

"Lord Eragon!" he cried. "You've returned!"

"It is good to see you, Finny." Eragon greeted the young boy. "Is my mother here?"

"Yes, she's inside with—"

The flap to the tent was pushed aside and out walked his mother with the assistance of Rosalie. She looked the same as when he'd first met her. She skin was pale and beautiful and her fiery hair caught in the light of the fire, her emerald eyes piercing. She smiled at him, showing her beauty. But it was his mother who made him froze on the spot. She wasn't dressed in her leather armor but instead a dress made from rather fine lace. Her brunette hair cascaded down her back instead of being tied up and her gait was uneven as she walked. And that was because of the extra weight she'd gained. Her stomach was round and large, and she hand one hand on her back as she walked to support the weight. Her cheeks were rosy giving her a youthful appearance and she looked truly happy.

He stared at her at a loss for words. Even Saphira emanated surprise at the sight of his mother. "Mother—?" he trailed off unable to continue not knowing what to say as he took in her appearance. She was pregnant and it wasn't just recently either. He felt a pang in his heart, this child would be his younger sibling…

His mother's expression stretched into a wide smile. With the help of Rosalie she made her way over to him. "Eragon!" when she was close enough, she embraced him. When he returned it, he was careful not to hug her too tight. It warmed him, however that she could still recognize him. Her son. Pulling away, she smiled up at him. "I didn't think you would return so quickly."

For a moment nothing came to mind and he was unable to think of what to say to his mother. Never had he ever thought of this being a possible situation. She was with child…After a long pause, Saphira nudged him. _Eragon, don't just stand there like a fool. Say something! _

All around him, he could see the anxiety in his servant's faces as they waited for his response. Was this the moment that he had been longing for? That both he and his mother waited for? The moment in which they could forgive and move forward or resent and remain the way they were. Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. A migraine was fighting its way forth, throbbing in his mind. After a moment he opened his eyes again, "I'm happy to see you so well mother," he finally said after some struggle.

"Being away from the Empire has done me a great deal," she rubbed her back as if it ached. Rosalie sent him a look that said that she'd done all she could to ease his mother's pain.

"That it did," he glanced around for something to say. As he stood there and thought, it was Saphira who filled the silence; she walked forward to sniff the air around his mother before lightly licking her cheek with her tongue.

_I believe congratulations are in order, mother-of-my-rider, _she said as she studied his mother. _May you birth a beautiful child. _

"Thank you, Saphira," his mother glanced towards him as if unsure she should accept the congratulations.

Trying to find a way to ease the tension, Eragon softly snorted. "I'm sure that the child will be less bothersome than Murtagh and I."

_I wouldn't think so, your blood seems to have a way of being intertwined with fate, _said Saphira amused. _A sibling born to elder brothers who are Dragon Riders, a father who founded the Varden, and a mother who is as fierce as she is gentle. This child will have quite the inheritance. _

That was right, whether his mother gave birth to a boy or a girl, there was no doubt in his mind that his younger sibling will be revered above all others. As they stood there, Arya had a thoughtful expression on her face. She didn't, however, make a comment until his mother caught sight of her. "Arya, it seems you too have returned."

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Selena," Arya said politely. "You have improved since last we've met."

"Thank you," she made an apologetic face. "If you're here to search for Brom, I'm afraid that he's currently occupied training the warriors."

At the sound of his father's name, he instinctively stiffened something that didn't go unnoticed by anyone. Finny who caught the tension in the air, turned to Bard, "It's almost time for Lady Selena to dine, let's prepare supper, Bard."

"Err—right," the blond haired man agreed the two of them hurrying off to gather the food. His mother was glancing at him with an odd expression while Rosalie bit her lip as if deciding what to do and Desdemona stood still as a statue ready to intervene if necessary. Arya, however, remained tactfully silent.

Then it was if something in his mother had snapped. She let out a growl of frustration before, placing her hands on her hips to stare at him even though she was shorter than him. "Eragon Shadeslayer, I've enough of your attitude young man! We've come this far and it's high time we start acting like a family. I know it's my fault that things are this way, and I can't make it up you." Her expression became saddened. "I just want to see you happy. You and Murtagh."

That was it. It was now or never if he wanted to make his mother truly happy. "I never blamed you," murmured Eragon, causing everyone to seemingly freeze. His eyes found Arya, the emerald of her irises giving him the courage he needed. _Bitterness is a choice. _That was right. "Never. I've always thought it was my own fault that you couldn't be with the man you loved and with Murtagh. That I was a burden to you. Someone who sought the openness of the sky. You stayed for me in that wretched city. You'd tried your best for me against the twisted lives we lived in under Galbatorix. And I couldn't do anything for you. Nothing made you happy anymore." He glanced downward as if ashamed to say so. "I was ashamed of myself. I couldn't face you anymore. I couldn't be the child that you wanted."

_Eragon…_He felt Saphira's warmth cascade over his mind. Trying to ease the guilt and shame that he'd been living with for so long. "Just like your father," he turned his head to her to find her staring at him with a film of tears in her eyes. "Exactly like your father. You were always stubborn and unforgiving to a fault, always trying to find happiness for others. But not for yourself. I've always loved you, you're my son as much as Murtagh is. No matter how you look or who you are, a Rider or Shadeslayer. Do not forget that I will always love you." She smiled, wiping her eyes. "Now, are we done with all of this foolishness?"

He nodded, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. _Go on! _Saphira urged pushing him forward abruptly. _Your mother is waiting for you, Eragon. She's been waiting for over five years now. _

He stepped forward to grasp his mother's hands, noting the light wrinkles she was beginning to have. "Yes, let's move past what's done and continue forward, mother." Her nod was the response he wanted. He glanced at her stomach before turning to Arya. A small smile was on her face as she beheld their long awaited reunion. He beckoned towards her. She gave him a curious expression before moving forward. "There is also something I would like to tell you, mother."

His mother and Rosalie watched them with a curious expression while Desdemona glided off to arrange supper. Gripping Arya's hand as she came to a stop before them, he said, "Arya and I have become mates." There reaction was what he'd expected. For some reason, no one could imagine the two of them as a bonded pair.

_It seems like today has been a rather emotional day for everyone, _Saphira's commented as he was forced to sit and explain to his mother what had occurred since he'd left for Ellesmera with Arya beside him. Soon enough, the rest of his servants came back, Bard and Finny carrying a cow for the dragons who were pleasantly surprised. Arya pointedly looked the other way as their teeth ripped apart the cow before they devoured it. Desdemona bought back food for his mother and Rosalie, he watched as they ate. Before they'd lived in wealth and dined with gold but now despite their condition, they were much happier than before.

They ate together and his mother despite her condition, seemed up to the conversation. She'd asked a variety of subjects, from his trip to how Murtagh was. At times Eragon would answer or Saphira would. And sometimes, it was Arya who sustained their conversation as if it was a common occurrence.

Eventually his father returned to the camp which sent everyone into silence. His mother waved him over. "Don't just stand there Brom, come and have some dinner with us, I'm sure you're starving."

As she'd asked, he slowly made his way forward before taking a seat on the low wooden bench that his mother sat on that Bard had made for her. His father sat across from him and Eragon could see the shock in his eyes as he took in his altered appearance. For the longest time no one said anything before Arya spoke, "It is good to see you again, Brom."

"Aye, you as well, Arya." His father replied. Eragon took another bite out of the pear that he was eating, the fruit crunching in his mouth sounding louder than normal. Seeing his mother's rather strained but hopeful expression made him determined. If Arya could forgive her mother after seven decades why couldn't he forgive his father?

_Because you're too stubborn to, _Saphira answered for him. He ignored her and reached out to the warm pot of soup that rested on the wooden table between them before pouring a bowl full of the hot liquid. And instead of eating it himself, he held it out to his father. "I'm sure you're hungry…father." It came out stiff and hesitant, but he'd said it all the same. He wasn't going to forgive him that easily yet. But he was going to try and forgive him.

Brom's eyes seemed to shine brightly as he accepted the bowl, before dutifully eating. The smile his mother bestowed upon him was the happiest he'd ever seen her. A hand gripped his and he turned to Arya, though she was speaking to Bard, he could see how the corners of her mouth was curved upward. It was enough. He turned back to his mother and father, watching as they ate and responding to their questions and inquiries.

Deep down in his heart, he felt a burden slowly fade away. It would take quite a while before he could stare at his father in the eye without resentment. But he didn't mind for it was enough.

**I know what you're all thinking. That's the only interaction Eragon has with Brom? Well, I've written the last part multiple ways and none of them seem to stick. And it's mainly because of Eragon and Arya that it didn't work out well with him resenting his father. I've developed AxE so Eragon could see past Brom's mistake like how Arya had forgiven her mother after seven decades. And so this was the best road for Eragon and his relationship with his parents to go. But this won't be the last of it. Trust me! It will take a LONG time for his to actually accept Brom. So goodbye for now! And by the way, Christmas is around the block! **


	41. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

**It's Christmas Eve and I've decided to give you all the gift of this extremely long chapter. I'm planning on uploading the other one tomorrow but you all might be too busy with parties and family obligations to actually read it. I know I will be busy at my family party and I shall watch out for alcohol consumption. Not going to sprain my hand again anytime soon. Anyways, Happy Reading everyone! **

The following two weeks since they'd arrived at the Burning Plains were weeks of preparation. Nasuada, after a tiresome conference with King Orrin and his council at early dawn, had decided to keep the Varden at the Burning Plains for she didn't want to march and be caught unaware by the Empire's soldiers. And as it had turned out, his prediction was exact for one of the spies in Orrin's intelligence network had reported that he saw a mass of troops marching south of Uru'baen and towards Surda. And afterwards it was one discussion after the other with the king and Nasuada. He didn't mind partaking in the strategy sessions, it was just the time they'd arranged them that irked him. Early dawn he found himself being awakened to attend them. And ever since, sleep was the farthest thing from his schedule.

The first time that Bard had woken him for the first meeting, he had broken his hand in his annoyance and anger at being awakened so early. From then on, Arya came to fetch him from his sleep. Though there were times that she was considerate about his sleep, there were others when she would inconsiderately prod him awake with either her foot or her sword. Like today, wrapped in his deep sleep, he frowned when he felt a prod against his stomach. He muttered something unintelligible but ignored it. When he thought he'd imagined it, another prod rudely kept him from sleeping, this time accompanied by an exasperated voice, "Eragon we must meet with Nasuada and King Orrin."

He didn't budge but burrowed deeper into his cot. Curse his servants for putting Arya up to the task. If it was Bard or Finny, he would've thrown them out before they could've spoken. A sound half between a sigh and scoff met his ears. A moment later, a hand gripped his blankets and pulled it roughly off of him. Once the cold air hit his skin, he bit out a loud curse glancing up to find Arya standing over him with an exasperated expression. "Must we do this everyday?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, but as he thought, it didn't have any effect. Usually at this point he would give up and get ready but today, he rolled around and went back to sleep. Blanket or no blanket. "Eragon!" he heard her drop his blankets and reached out to grab them before wrapping them about him to continue sleeping again.

A few seconds later, he felt her hand on his back, "Now is not the time to dream, Eragon." He grumbled and tried to return to sleep. That was when he felt a trickle of mischief coming from Saphira's mind which was quiet until now. Before he could think more of it, Arya's elegant fingers found a spot below his neck and gently pinched him there. But it was enough, a jolt exploding through his body; he let out a yelp and flinched away from her hand.

Outside, he could hear the rumble of Saphira's laughter as she no doubt heard his surprise. Now fully awake, he sat up still wrapped in his blankets and raised a brow at Arya, not bothering to hide his annoyance and irritation at being awaken so early and rudely. Her expression was one of amusement. "Good morning."

He grunted. It was too early to be polite. Trying for one last ditch effort at sleep, he was about to lie down and drift off again when Arya's fingers pinched the spot below his neck again. Flinching like he did the first time, he stood up wide awake. "Good morning to you too, Arya." He grumbled as she stood there watching him.

"It's a good thing Saphira knows how to get you up or we would've been here all day," said Arya as he bustled about his tent. He grunted in reply again. She sank down onto his cot, crossing her legs as she observed him. "At least try for some coherency in the morning, Eragon."

Splashing his face with water from a basin, he grunted again and wiped his face dry. "You're up bright and early as usual," he commented as he threw off his night shirt and pulled an emerald tunic over his head. He never understood how she did it, every morning she was up before the crack of dawn preparing and studying while he was trying to sleep peacefully.

She shrugged, "Another habit of mine," was her answer to his disgruntled statement.

"Well, I wouldn't like it to be a habit of _mine_," he muttered under his breath earning a smile of amusement from Arya. _And no thanks to you that I'm awake, Saphira, _he said, directing his thoughts towards her.

Her own thoughts were filled with amusement and she was far from guilty, _someone has to get you up and since you weren't responding, I thought Arya might like to know how to keep you from sleeping the day away._

_I love you too,_ he thought sarcastically.

_Oh hush; you enjoy waking up to your elf in the morning don't you? _To that he didn't respond which caused Saphira's thoughts to become tinted with knowing. As he moved about his tent to warm a pot of tea to wake his mind, Arya neatly folded his blankets up before turning to him. "You do seem tired as of late."

"It's quite difficult to teach magic to those who view it with superstitions and Trianna constantly by my side," Eragon said as he heated the clay kettle on the table. Once it was boiling he poured himself a cup of tea. "Would you like some, Arya?"

"If you don't mind."

He poured her a cup and handed it to her, before taking a seat on a three legged stool in his tent. The warm tea was enough to clear the fuzziness from his mind and set his thoughts in order. "Have you been making way with them?" Arya asked after a sip of her own tea.

"Progression has been slow, but progress is still progress," he said despite his distaste at the thought of it. For the past two weeks, every evening he would spend a ridiculous amount of hours with Du Vrangr Gata and yet the magicians were still struggling to cast a few spells that he thought to be simple. But then again, his power couldn't be compared to theirs. Not in the slightest.

Arya pursed her lips and it looked like she wanted to ask more but she refrained from doing so. Instead she drank the rest of her tea as he downed his own. Placing the cup on the table, he reached forward to grab his boots and tug it on his feet, lacing them up as he did so. "Would you mind if I accompany you to help with Du Vrangr Gata?"

Surprised he stared at Arya. "Are you not needed for planning with Orrin and Nasuada?"

She shook her head, "Not today, Brom will be there to advise her in strategy."

He thought about it for a moment before nodded, "It will be a nice help," he admitted. "Rosalie and the others are too busy preparing the army to assist me like they usually do. And you're very knowledgeable in the ancient language." He took her cup that was empty and placed it on the table next to his. "Not to mention with you there, I wouldn't get nearly as irritated as I do every time I'm teaching them."

"Then it's settled."

Eragon nodded, as he reached back down to finish lacing his boots. Satisfied, he glanced up to find Arya smiling slightly at him. What was that for? When she didn't elaborate he ignored it and instead decided to take the time to see her fully. For the past two weeks, they'd each been so busy that they couldn't spare more than a few brief moments with each other to exchange chaste kisses and caresses. But today would be different no doubt. They would spend the day together even if it was to teach the magicians in Du Vrangr Gata.

Feeling a strong desire wash over him, he stood and made his way over to her. Without giving her time to fully grasp what he was going to do, he bent down to kiss her. As his lips moved over hers, he felt one of her hands come up to cup his cheek. When her lips parted and her warm breath washed over his face, he felt his desire increase by ten folds, strengthened by their time apart these past weeks. As their tongues brushed, it was a dance for domination. Intoxicated by her fragrance and taste, he continued his onslaught, never before as passionate as he was in this interaction. When he felt his back ache from his bent position he made to pull away but Arya had a different idea and instead pulled him down as they went sprawling out on his cot.

Trying not to crush her with his weight, he used his elbows to keep most of his body off of her as they continued in their fevered kissing. It seemed that she desired it as much as he did. After a moment he pulled away from her with a great amount of difficulty. Allowing for the two of them to catch their breaths. Or for Arya to catch her breath instead, he brought his lips to her jaw line and placed a kiss there, earning a startled gasp from her. It was a sound he had never heard from her which made him pause but when she didn't object to his actions, he continued. Letting his instinct and desire lead him, Eragon slowly trailed his lips from the bottom of her jaw upwards before moving to the soft skin of her neck.

Never had he done anything such as this but it felt natural to him. As his lips trailed up her slender neck, he stopped right below her ear and lightly kissed her there. Before he could do anymore a loud clamor outside as well as harsh shouting made him pause, giving them time to clear their minds. It was a group of warriors that were hurriedly trying to make their way to the training grounds but in their haste one man dropped his shield on another's foot. He closed his eyes trying not to get frustrated before opening them to stare back down at Arya.

Her hair was spade out on his cot, her eyes a dark emerald, and her lips a rosy red. She was staring up at him with an expression that he wasn't used to seeing on her, but he knew what it was. It was of desire. Eragon bent down to give her another kiss, this time chase before sighing. "It's time we meet Nasuada and Orrin for this meeting of theirs."

Eragon stood as Arya moved into a sitting position of his cot, straightening her hair as she did so. "Yes, it would be foolish to keep them waiting any longer than necessary." In one fluid motion, she stood and exited his tent though albeit reluctantly. Strapping his swords onto his hip and slinging his bow and quiver over his back, he followed her.

Outside, Saphira and Eridor waited their heads close together. One gently nudging the other. Arya stood right outside his tent, her arms folded as if she'd stood there longer than necessary. At his appearance, Saphira turned her head to him. _I see that you're finally ready to leave. _

_I wouldn't say that, but we must do what we must, _then to Arya he said, "Let us be off, King Orrin must be grating on Nasuada's nerve by now." She nodded, the four of them setting off through the encampment of the Varden's. Eragon's tent was located on the south western end of the camp, farthest from the main body of the camp itself. For his ears could not withstand the loud noises that accompanied everyday life at the Varden's main body and he just didn't want to interact with others. Arya's tent was erected not far from his but she too preferred the peace and quiet compared to the loud noises of the Varden's main body.

As they walked, Eragon pointedly ignored the stares that they'd managed to attract. Despite the fact that he had returned to the Varden for over two weeks, most of the people seem treat him as if he'd just returned. Within twenty minutes they reached the red pavilion where Nasuada's command tent stood. Once granted entry, they entered the large command tent to find Nasuada seated in her grand chair with King Orrin and his council seated before her around a long table as well as the Council of Elders and Jormundur. And though he could not see her, he could feel Elva's presence within the pavilion. The only seats open were two seats to her right which she'd reserved for the two of them no doubt.

"Eragon, Arya, thank you for joining us," said Nasuada as she caught sight of the two of them. "Why don't the two of you take a seat?" They did with Eragon at her right and Arya to his left. "We were just wondering when you two would arrive."

"I apologize if my tardy has caused you any discomfort," said Eragon. The dark skinned leader merely waved away his apology.

"It is alright, the both of you are here," she stared at the documents before her. "Now, let us plan for the battle ahead." She pulled a scroll towards her to quickly glance over its contents before turning to them. "Reports have confirmed that the Empire will be arriving to Surda within two days notice and from his words, I can gleam that we are heavily outnumbered." No one spoke as she dropped the documents onto the table. "But it isn't news, for it is something we've already predicted."

"Then pray tell, how is it that we will overcome this difference in numbers?" Irwin, Orrin's prime minister spoke addressing Nasuada directly and Eragon would even go as far as to say, questioningly.

"Once the dwarves arrive to our aid and if Murtagh could somehow hear word of our condition then it would be an even battle," said Nasuada, calmly. "But if none of that goes according to plan, we still have Eragon and Arya as well as the dragons; they alone can kill more men than a battalion could."

"I cause no offense in saying so, Nasuada," said King Orrin his eyes flickering over to Eragon. "But how confident are you in their abilities?"

Nasuada didn't answer but instead gazed at Eragon, giving him the chance to do so. He briefly held her gaze before turning his head to hold Orrin's. "Numbers do not determine the chances of winning, your majesty. If that were so than the Varden as an organization had no hope to begin with. It is talent and skill that shapes the game, and the person endowed with these talents will always be victorious."

"We may be overwhelmed but we are strong enough to withhold the tides of this battle," said Arya, her rich voice washing over everyone. "That I am confident of."

The King didn't press the matter and from then onward, the rest of the meeting went without questioning. And though he tried not to show frustration at being seated around a table with those whom he disliked, especially the council of elders, it was for Nasuada that he remained composed. She needed him as a vassal and in him was the root of her bond with King Orrin and the others. And from him, she had to draw her authority, especially with those who fought to control her.

When early morning came, the people of the Varden finally rising to work did they adjourn the meeting. Freed from the pavilion, he made to leave like the rest before Nasuada called for him to stay. Arya gave him a look before leaving. "Yes, my lady?"

"Before you leave, I just wanted to tell you that I have your armor ready for you."

Her statement puzzled him. "Armor? I already have my armor; it is sitting in my bags in my tent."

She shook her head. "That armor belongs to Grabranth; ever since you'd joined the Varden I've thought it fit to see to it that you have new armor that does not represent Grabranth but instead Eragon. King Hrothgar has kindly offered to see to it that you will have the finest there is since Saphira promised to repair the Star Sapphire."

He was unsure of what to say but bowed to her in his gratitude.

"I'll have it sent to your tent," Nasuada said as she began to unroll maps across her desk. "Until tomorrow, Eragon."

He nodded and exited the tent to find Arya standing outside, the dragons no where to be seen. When he'd asked, she'd just simply said, "Flying." She inclined her head towards the tent. "What is it that Nasuada wanted to see you for?"

"She wanted to tell me about the new armor that she had crafted for me," this brought a smile to her face. "What?" He asked, suspicious of her expression.

"I also have something to give you," was her only reply. He raised a brow but didn't push the subject with her any further. Before they could set off, the sound of boots on the ground made Eragon turned and he found himself face to face with his father. Instinctively, he stiffened. Though he had remained on civil footing with his father, he couldn't bring himself to act like a son to him. Nor did his father push it. It was as if there was a mutual agreement between the two of them to let things move at its own accord. As he stared at Brom, he felt an emotion rise in his chest at the thought of him about to have another child with his mother.

Eragon greeted him, stiffly, "Father."

"Eragon," Brom inclined his head towards Arya. Since he'd found out that he and Arya were mates, his father's reaction was astonishment and Eragon knew that it was partly from the fact that Arya could be as old as his father was. But he paid that no mind in the least. And if he was bothered by Eragon's relationship to the elf, Brom certainly did not show it. "Arya, good morning. You've finished with your meeting with Nasuada?"

"Yes, she is waiting for your appearance to plan more strategies for the battle," answered Arya. "We were leaving for Du Vrangr Gata."

"Ah," understanding lit his features; though he seemed reluctant to leave he made a small step towards the tent. "You have your obligations as I have mine. Let's see to it that they are carried out." He turned to leave then stopped and faced Eragon. "If you could stop by our tent later on, Eragon, it will be greatly appreciated. Your mother wants to spend some time with you."

With that he left, disappearing into the tent. Eragon stood there staring at his father's back for a moment before with a light tug of his hand by Arya began to make his way through the tents and to Du Vrangr Gata. As they walked with their hands intertwined in an intimate gesture, Arya spoke, "You're trying very hard to forgive him, aren't you?"

"I am," he admitted. "It's just so hard. And every time I compare it to what you've had to endure, I feel like a child for begrudging my father for a mistake on his part."

"You were young at the time."

He snorted, "You as well, or at least for an elf."

"I was," she didn't seem inclined to speak of the subject anymore as he wasn't. Glad for her tact, the two of them walked through the camp in a comfortable silence often pointing objects of interest out here and there.

As they passed by tents and fires, he would often catch sight of families and friends getting ready to work for the day. A curious thought struck him. "Arya?"

"Yes?"

"Do you dislike wearing dresses?" His question must have been so out of place and odd to her, for she paused in her step for a moment to give him a look. He elaborated. "I know that leggings and leather is useful to wear in battle but I've never seen you wear a dress before not even for a celebration. Is there a particular reason why?"

Her expression which was originally colored with a hint of disbelief at his question slowly changed to amusement before entering outright humor. His question must have really been humorous for he'd never seen her in such high spirits. "An odd question to ask of me," she said. "But if you desire an answer, then I'll try my best to explain to you. I've never seen the beauty in a dress like the women of other races do. If I look fine in leggings and leather then why wear a dress? In any case, this is not the time and place to do so anyway."

It was an answer that made perfect sense, Eragon thought. "Now, shall we continue on our way?" Arya asked, he nodded in response. With that said they continued weaving through the tents to Du Vrangr Gata. On the short walk there, he found other questions to ask her about herself and her preference. It had gotten to the point that they were so odd that Arya laughed at him. "Is today an interrogation on my behalf?"

He smiled sheepishly not understanding why his sudden interest in her, but he could guess that it was from their bonds as mates that made him curious to know her more so than before. "I was just…curious."

They stopped before the tent that was used to hold the meetings for Du Vrangr Gata. Eragon pushed the flap aside, entering with Arya behind him. Already there and practicing their spells and enchantments were the magicians. Trianna at the head of the group glanced up at their arrival, "Shadeslayer, we were—" she paused catching sight of Arya for the first time. "May I ask as to why the elven ambassador is here?"

"To assist in training you all," Eragon said as he moved forward, Arya stepping with him. The expressions on their faces was of intimidation and apprehensive. And Eragon had to agree, Arya sometimes held that aura about her. "It would greatly speed our progress for we are limited on time." He gestured to a group of magicians that were apt at healing. "You can assist them, Arya. I will be with Trianna."

She nodded and without another word strode over to the group. The awe on their face made him smile slightly. Then he turned to the sorceress, "Let us begin, Trianna."

With that said, they set off. While Eragon was teaching a smaller group of the magicians new words and spells in the ancient language, Arya was trying to broaden their knowledge on the art of healing. Occasionally, he would glance her way to see her on the verge of irritation or aptly teaching them how to heal a broken muscle or internal wound.

At one lapse in his own teaching, he found himself staring at the gold bracelet around her wrist shaped like a hissing snake. It was called Lorga, Eragon recalled for his brief conversation with Trianna so long ago. "Your protectorate," Eragon began facing the sorceress. "Is it a spirit that you summon and control?"

She seemed caught off guard by his question but nodded. "He is," her blue eyes stared at him questioningly. "Is there something that interests you?"

"Quite much," he pointed at the golden bracelet. "How is it that you can summon spirits and control them? Have they not been rebellious?"

"Only when you attempt to summon one far stronger than you in mind and magic," she said lifting her wrist so he could get a better look at the bracelet. "Often times, they'll acknowledge you as the one who'd summoned them. Other times, they may as well want to devour your soul from your body."

He nodded, was the spirit sharing his body the same as the one wounded around Trianna's wrist? "Could you try awakening him? I would like to see it."

She thought about it for a moment before bending forward to lightly blow on the golden bracelet, and then she murmured, "Se orum—"

Before any other word could leave her lips, he felt his right eye sting as if smarting from something in the air and his heart pound in his chest. Reaching up to place a hand on his chest, he hunched forward slightly, feeling rather sick. When the third word left her lips, his heart gave another pound as if ready to burst forward from his chest. _Was the spirit waking to her call? _He felt his knees grow weak as another word left her lips. Halfway through the incantation he fell to one knee, grasping at his chest while his right eye burned, blinding him. "Shadeslayer!"

Cool hands grasped his head and he found himself staring at Trianna in a daze, his eyes seeing her but his mind not registering her appearance. She said something but he didn't hear her. Half a minute passed before someone roughly cast the sorceress aside taking her place before him. It was Arya; though her eyes showed a hint of anger her expression was one of concern. He stared at her relieved to see her before him. As long as she was with him, nothing endangering would happen.

He closed his eyes, letting his head fall in her hands as he let his heart slow down and the pain in his right eye subside. After a moment, he opened them again and with Arya's help stood. The members of Du Vrangr Gata were staring at him with looks of confusion and some with doubt. It was Arya who spoke to them, however. "I believe we've practiced enough. You all have your spells and words to learn. Practice them."

"You have no say over what we do, elf," it was Trianna who spoke, anger also evident in her blue eyes but otherwise, her expression remained calm and complacent.

Arya turned to her, her angled eyes narrowed giving her an evil look but she spoke in a civil tone as if discussing the weather with a stranger. "If you know what's best for you sorceress then do not pick a battle in which you will not win." A tense silence hung over them before Arya led him outside. He followed suddenly too tired to complain.

Letting his feet move of their own accord, he was surprised to find himself sitting on a rock next to a lone tree that the Varden had yet to cut down for firewood. Arya knelt before him, examining his right eye with such intensity he was sure that if he were to poke her she would jump from fright. He slowly blinked as if not to surprise her, "How are you feeling?" Arya asked, switching to the ancient language.

"Better," he replied in kind. "It has passed."

The intensity of her gaze didn't diminish, "What was it that you were doing with Trianna?"

Her emerald eyes were piercing as she awaited his answer. "I asked her to summon the spirit of Lorga, the snake on her wrist…I didn't think it would trigger…the one residing in my body. It was a foolish mistake on my part."

"You are fine now?"

He nodded. Her emerald eyes held his for a gaze longer before the tension in her body relaxed her concerned expression melting away. Arya leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, her breath warm on his face. "Do not attempt something as foolish as that next time, Eragon. Especially not with Trianna."

"Do you not like her?"

"Not quite, though she is talented when it comes to summoning spirits even if I've only heard of it once." Arya pulled away from him, standing as she did so while he nodded taking in that bit of news. The day, to his surprise, had grown late. He stood, taking in a deep breath of air before letting it out.

"I shall go visit my mother," he glanced at her. "Will you accompany me?"

She shook her head, "I must prepare a report for Queen Islanzadi." At the sound of her mother's name, her lips thinned. Eragon frowned, that didn't bode well he was sure. "There are matters that I have to tell her before the battle and before the twelve spell casters that she'd assigned to Murtagh arrive."

"I can forgo my dinner with my mother if you'd rather I accompany you, my mother shall not mind in the slightest," said Eragon.

She shook her head, denying his offer. "No, it would be best if I did it. At any rate, I cannot contact her by scrying until she leaves the protection of the forest."

Arya left him with a sweet kiss, walking in the direction of her tent. He stared at her disappearing figure for a moment before turning towards the direction of his mother's own tent. Once he was there, he wasn't surprised to find his mother seated by the fire as Rosalie hovered about her and Bard prepared dinner. Finny and Desdemona were busy trying to arrange the table for them to eat.

At the sight of him, his mother sent him a tired smiled. "Eragon, you came."

"Of course," he replied as he came to stand beside her. "Are you tired mother? You don't seem well today."

"I've forgotten how hard it was on the body to carry child, especially at my age."

"You're not so old as you say you are, Lady Selena," said Rosalie with a slight smile.

"That could be true in certain aspects," she agreed. Then she glanced about him, seemingly searching for something. After a moment, she turned her gaze to him. "Where is Arya? I'd thought she would be accompanying you."

At the sound of her name, his servants seem to become more clumsy and in other cases, stiff. Rosalie and Desdemona did not seem to approve of Arya which had greatly surprised him for he didn't know why. He'd thought all of his servants agreeable of her being his mate. "She is busy at the moment." He sat down on a stool that Finny had brought out for him.

The rest of the day passed without event. Though he did enjoy speaking with his mother and servants, the thought was Queen Islanzadi hovered over his thoughts like a sword, threatening to shatter the peace that he shared with Arya. She was no doubt going to give her consent on their union. And he feared that Arya's relationship with her mother would become more estranged after their long awaited reunion.

The following days sent the Varden into such a state; he'd forgotten to bring up Arya's mother in their time together. As they'd expected the Empire's army did arrive two days later bringing with it, a hundred thousand soldiers by Saphira's and Eridor's accounts as they flew high above the army. Whenever they were together, they were either needed by Nasuada, commanders, King Orrin, or the Du Vrangr Gata. It made speaking of personal topics close to impossible.

It would have to wait, Eragon thought for war was nigh upon them and pleasantries had to be put to side. But when he had the chance, he was going to speak to her about it. He stared up at the sky with a frown as he stood beside Saphira.

_The clouds of war are gathering, _she said as she too studied the sky.

_Aye that they are. _

**Long chapter wasn't it? You guys can't even fathom how long it took me to type this up. But anyways, I'm just happy that it's done and Christmas is around the corner! Merry Christmas everyone (even if it is a few hours early but who's counting?) **


	42. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

**Merry Christmas everyone! I know it's late but I thought most of you would be busy during the day to read this exceptionally long chapter so I thought I would upload it at night. I hope you've all had a jolly christmas, I know I have :) (I don't think Christmas exists in Alagaesia does it?) Anyways, this is my Christmas gift to you all! The battle will be the next chapter! **

Since the third day of the Empire's arrival, everyone waited on edge. Eragon frowned as he tried to straighten his bare steel gauntlet on his arms. The new armor that Nasuada had sent him was beyond his expectations. Made of bare steel and lined with gold it was the finest and strongest armor that he'd laid his eyes on. And he was grateful for the dwarves' handiwork. Unable to fix it, he cursed under his breath. "Good morning to you as well."

Arya had pulled back he flap to his tent and instead of the leather clothing that she'd usually preferred, she was armored as a man for battle. "You seem to have a knack for catching me in my worst of moods."

"You're just…outspoken early in the morning," she said as she approached him, carrying something obscured in a bag. She set it on his table before reaching out to fix his gauntlet with ease. Once done, she tapped the steel of his armor. "You're armor is beautiful."

"I agree, I am in King Hrothgar's debt." Then he frowned, "Though I wasn't given a helm."

She smiled and reached forward towards her bag, pulling out a beautifully crafted helm, which as his armor was lined with gold. "Which is why I am here. Rhunon had crafted you a helm per my request. Your old helm resembles too much of a monster to be seen within the Varden."

He accepted it, turning it in his hands. It truly was a beautiful object, he thought as he stared at it. Every line, every indenture was elegantly carved and welded. He remembered how Rhunon broke his fingers with her hammer the first time he'd met her. When Arya asked for the source of his amusement, she too saw the humor in it. "I was going to warn you not to touch her work…but I thought against it."

"And why was that? She broke my fingers," asked Eragon.

"I thought you could fend for yourself."

Her answer made him raise an eyebrow at her but he let the subject drop. Instead, he donned his helm as Arya went to reach for something else in her bag. This time, she pulled out a white cape that was embroidered with the Varden's crest. "A gift from Nasuada, you original cape was destroyed."

He nodded before tying it into a knot around the base of his neck, completing his ensemble. He glanced at Arya. "How do I look?"

Her answer did not surprise him, "Fit for battle."

With his swords strapped to his waist, the two of them made way for Nasuada's pavilion like they had been doing since before the arrival of the Empire's army. His armor clanked with every step he took but it was comfortable sound that he'd grown used to. Though they had not gone to war yet, it was a precaution in case they were attacked without formality. Arya, Eragon observed was an intimidating sight. Armored as a man, her sword Tamerlein hung from her waist, the green a startling color against the silver of her armor. She was one of the most deadliest warriors he'd ever met.

"Where are the dragons?"

"Scouting enemy movement from above, they seem restless," was Arya's reply. They'd reached Nasuada's tent entering to find her also garbed for war. The sight of her sent apprehension through him, though he knew she was capable of holding her own he could not see her in war. To his surprise, he worried for her not as his liege lord but also as a friend.

She glanced up acknowledging their presence. She took a moment to glance at Eragon in his new armor. "A fine fit indeed, once our enemy catches sight of you it would surely give them pause."

They approached her table where she was studying a slew of maps. "I've been trying to find a way to give us the best chance at victory if not then at drawing out the battle. But it is hard to plan a strategy on a battlefield such as the Burning Plains."

"Then we'll just have to attack them head on," said Eragon as he too studied the map.

"A simple strategy but it seems to be the only way we have left." She sighed rubbing her face tiredly. "We need a strategy that will give us the best chances in this war and that will not turn it into a war of attrition, the Varden just can't handle that."

"Saphira and I can lead a charge against them then, if we can push them back or prolong them then it could give the Varden an advantage," said Eragon.

"It's too dangerous, none of the dragons can take to the sky before we take care of Galbatorix's magicians," said Arya with a shake of her head. "We're confined to the ground until then."

He grunted, hating the thought of it. But she was right and it would be foolish to fly in an open space with magicians at large. For the next few hours they spent it planning of a strategy that would put them at an advantage before the flap to the tent was cast aside. Both he and Arya pulled their swords inches out of their sheaths, alerted of this new presence.

To his surprise, he found himself staring at Murtagh and standing beside him was the dwarf, Orik. "Murtagh!" it was Nasuada who spoke and he could hear the relief and delight in her voice at the sight of his half brother.

In response, Murtagh bowed deeply to her his smile brighter than Eragon could recall. He shared a look with Arya, she must have saw the feelings that Murtagh held for the ruler of the Varden. If anything Murtagh was infatuated with her. "My lady."

"How did you get our message so quickly?" she asked, Eragon wondering the same.

Instead be shook his head, moving forward with ease to join them. "I didn't; I learned about Galbatorix's army from my scrying and left Ellesmera the same day." He smiled at her again. "It's good to be back with the Varden."

"I've heard much about your tales in Ellesmera from Arya and Eragon, Murtagh. It is good to know that your back has been healed, with you here we now are on even footing with the Empire. Or with a slight advantage in any case, the Varden is glad at your return." Her mail clinking as she seated herself in a large, high backed chair and turned to Orik, who had yet to speak. She welcomed him and asked if he had aught to add to Murtagh's tales. Orik shrugged and provided a few anecdotes for his stay in Ellesmera, though Eragon knew that he kept his true observations a secret for his king.

Nasuada nodded, "Though I am heartened to know that we will have the elves by our side if we can weather this onslaught, I want to ask if you've seen any of Hrothgar's warriors during your flight from Aberon. We are counting on their reinforcements."

It was Thorn who answered. _No, but then it was dark and I often flown above or between the clouds. I could have easily missed a camp under those conditions. In any case I doubt we would cross paths, for I flew straight from Aberon and the dwarves would likely choose a different route. _

Eragon nodded, that wasn't comforting but at least they had another reckoning force returned to the Varden. Murtagh may not be as strong as Eragon was nor as swift as Arya but he can hold his own against more than dozens of Galbatorix's soldiers.

"What," asked Murtagh "is the situation here?"

Nasuada sighed and began to inform them of the occurrences that had happened while he was absent. By the time, Nasuada had explained the number of soldiers that they were up against, Murtagh's expression became one of dismay. "A hundred thousand soldiers! Where did they come from? It seems impossible that he could find more than a handful of people willing to serve him."

"They were conscripted. We can only hope that the men who were torn from their homes won't be eager to fight. If we can frighten them badly enough, they may break ranks and flee. Our numbers are greater than in Farthen Dur, for King Orrin has joined forces with us and we have received a veritable flood of volunteers since we began to spread the word about you, Eragon. Especially soldiers from the Empire who'd deserted their posts and came here to serve you."

This piece of information surprised him. For he hadn't heard of it before. "Is that so?"

"Yes, I apologize for not mentioning it to you earlier but we've managed to muster a battalion of deserters from Galbatorix's army. They came here to serve you, Eragon. Though I'm sure that Galbatorix is trying to stomp out rumors of you joining the Varden to keep his army in piece," said Nasuada with a slight smile. "They are very apt soldiers, and some I've come to value quite much."

"Who is their commander?"

"I've appointed Bard as the commander of that certain battalion seeing as most of them are familiar to his presence. But ultimately, they've sworn their loyalty to me," she said. Eragon nodded, never bothering to consider that some of the Empire might actually see fit to abandon their posts to follow him. It was a heartening prospect. He would have to visit them when he could. As she spoke there was a rustle of fabric in the tent and he felt the strange mind of Elva approaching though he often spoke to the young girl, it was still strange when he felt her presence approach him.

She appeared before Murtagh, "Welcome, Argetlam. Welcome Thorn." He saw Murtagh shiver at the sound of Elva's voice, which was out of place for one as young as she was.

Before anyone could say anything the flap to Nasuada's tent was thrown open and to Eragon's surprise Angela came flying in and in her hand was a…mallard. Knowing her intentions but not bothering to stop the herbalist, Eragon watched as the short woman clubbed Murtagh over the head with it. "So you've finally decided to come back, you enormous blockhead!"

No one moved and he was slightly surprised the Thorn had openly allowed Angela to attack his rider but then again, Murtagh could've told him to stand down. Nasuada, who was sitting on her chair looked torn between kicking the herbalist out or allowing events to unfold. While Orik was on the defensive for his foster brother. Arya gazed at Angela with an expression of what seemed to be respect and she made no move to intervene which surprised him. Eragon knowing that he should placate the woman stood still watching as Angela began her tirade on Murtagh.

It was even more colorful than before. The tension in the tent slowly began to degrade into bemusement as they watched the short woman reprimand Murtagh who stood a head taller than her of stronger stature and physique. Angela explained in very colorful details the level of idiocy he must have possessed to bless Elva so wrongly. She even went as far to insinuate that one of his grandparents mated with an Urgal therefore siring the monster known as Morzan and as a result he was birthed. At this part, she stopped to send Eragon an apologetic expression. "Of course, I mean no insult towards Selena, Eragon. I admire her greatly."

He shook his head not offended. "It is quite alright."

With that said she returned to Murtagh to describe the quite hideous punishments he ought to receive for his idiocy, in which she shook her mallard at his threatening. The ending, however, he had yet to hear from her which amused him to the point that he had to feign a cough. Even Arya was smiling faintly. Angela had ended her tirade with the idea that if Murtagh was to become a father he would end up alienating his child with his idiocy which would poison Alagaesia. And the few _very colorful _predictions she last said Eragon would rather not repeat.

When she stopped done, Murtagh spoke, not moved by her tirade but also smiling at the short woman. "You're quite right, and I'm going to try and remove the spell if Elva allows me."

Elva who was watching the tirade let out a small gasp and like before when Eragon had told her of Murtagh healing her, tears came to her eyes. Everyone went silent as they watched the proceedings. "The elves taught me how to undo a spell, and I believe I can free you of this curse. It won't be easy, but it can be done."

She hid her emotions behind a cynical mask of amusement as she regarded Murtagh, "Well, we shall see. Either way, you shouldn't try until after this battle."

"I could save you a great deal of pain."

"It wouldn't do to exhaust you when I survival may depend on your talents. I do not deceive myself; you are more important than me." A sly grin crossed her face. "Besides, if you remove your spell now, I won't be able to help any of the Varden if they are threatened. You wouldn't want Nasuada to die because of that, would you?"

"No," admitted Murtagh with feeling. He paused for a long time, considering the issue, then said, "Very well, I will wait. But I swear to you: if we win this fight, I shall right this wrong."

The girl tilted her head to one side, "I will hold you to your word, Rider."

"As will I," said Angela, she glanced at the mallard in her hand and then to Murtagh before chucking it outside of the tent through the small gap that Thorn's head made in the opening. "I wouldn't need that anymore."

Rising from her chair, Nasuada said, "Good, now that everything is as it should be, I must introduce the three of you to Orrin and his nobles. Have you met King Orrin before, Orik?"

The dwarf shook his head. "I've never been this far west."

"I would also like to accompany you, Nasuada." said Angela. "I've heard _interesting _things about this monarch in particular."

Eragon stepped forward, "By your leave my lady, but I would like to visit the battalion that you've spoken of earlier."

She nodded her head. "They occupy the north eastern corner of the Varden's camp. Bard should be attending to them right now. You will be accompanying him, Arya?"

"I shall."

"Then I will see the two of you later on," with that she swept outside if the pavilion everyone following but Eragon and Arya. Before Murtagh left, he gave them a confused look. Once gone, Eragon turned to Arya.

"Angela is amusing as ever," said Eragon before adding, "You seem to respect her greatly."

"She is a wise one."

"That can be arguable on certain grounds." The two of them left the pavilion making way for the location Nasuada briefly mentioned. She was right for they found Bard standing before a battalion of a thousand soldiers armored for battle. When the blond cook caught sight of Eragon he bowed in respect.

"My lord."

"Bard." He gestured towards the battalion. "Are these soldiers from the Royal Army?"

"Yes, they've joined when they heard tale of you deserting the Empire," explained Bard with a proud smile. "Galbatorix may be their king but you were their real commander. Would you like to speak with them?"

Eragon nodded, and stood before the group of soldiers who were gazing up at him in wonder and admiration, and he could see that they were trying to picture him as the person who hid beneath a helm and called himself Gabranth. Before he could say anything, a bellow tore echoed in the sky and they all glanced up to find the dragons diving down towards the battalion, causing emerald and sapphire rays of light to dance upon the ground. He was impressed when none of the soldiers fled with fright at the sight of the two magnificent beasts. When they flared their wings out to slow their descent to the ground, it caused torrents of wind of buffer them before they landed on the ground with a _thud. _

_So they're from the Empire, _she said as she studied them with her large sparkling eyes. They held her gaze unwavering and unflinching despite the slight expression of fear on their face. _There is no doubt that they've served under us before, Eragon. _

_Aye, _he turned to them, "I apologize for my lateness in saying so but I would like to welcome you all to the Varden." They remained silent and he knew that it was time to show them that he was truly the rider that they'd followed. "It is a tragic thing to leave your homes but what you've done was not easy I would know. But Galbatorix has twisted our minds and stolen our loyalty from us for long enough and now is the time for us to take back what is ours." He gazed down at them. "It will be a long and arduous task and there will be times when we will be devoid of hope. It is not easy here with the Varden and it will never be easy so long as we march against the Black King. The time has come for us to take back Alagaesia and restore this land to its former glory."

Beside him, Bard raised his hand up in a show of morality, "For Lord Eragon! For Alagaesia!" Saphira lifted her head and let loose a torrent of flames.

Their response was instantaneous, they raised their arms and cries of his name and of Alagaesia rang through the air. He gazed down at the battalion with a sense of pride, knowing that they'd came all the way to Surda to offer their services for him. Arya who stood beside him was staring down at the assembled men with approval, "That was most eloquent, Eragon."

_Indeed it was, _said Saphira with pride. _They will follow you to the ends of the earth, Eragon. And once the rest of the Empire hears of how Gabranth is supporting the Varden they will no doubt follow in your footsteps. _

_The world is changing, _Eridor's deep voice rumbled in his mind. _Even the Empire is seeing that change as the rest of the races are. _

_The lethargy that we've been in since the Fall of the Riders is finally abating with the Forsworn and Durza gone, we have an even chance at defeating Galbatorix. _He turned to Arya and could see the light in her eyes through the cheers of his soldiers. For the next few hours, Eragon spent a decent amount of time with the soldiers knowing most of them by name for the majority served under him. And often times he was surprised to see high ranked generals and lieutenants part of the battalion. From what they'd told him, they along with their families made the trip to Surda to join the Varden after hearing tides about him. It wasn't easy either for Galbatorix was trying to spread word of his death to dissuade anymore soldiers from joining the Varden.

He was also pleasantly surprised to find skilled warriors there. With this battalion, he was sure that it would greatly help the Varden as an organization. The sun was no more than a finger's breadth above the horizon when a runner arrived at the camp. He told Eragon that Nasuada ordered him to attend her at once. "An' I think you'd better hurry, Shadeslayer, if you don't mind me saying so."

After bidding the soldiers goodbye they made their way through the gray tents towards Nasuada's pavilion. Eragon and Arya running while the dragons moved at their normal but large strides. A harsh tumult above them caused Eragon to lift his eyes from the treacherous ground long enough to glance overhead.

What he saw was a giant flock of birds wheeling between the two armies. He spotted eagles, hawks, and falcons, along with countless greedy crows and their larger, dagger-beaked, blue-backed, rapacious cousin, the raven. Each bid shrieked for blood to wet its throat and enough hot meat to fill its hot belly and sate its hunger. By experience and instinct, they knew that whenever armies appeared in Alagaesia, they could expect to feast on acres of carrion.

"They seem even more eager to start this battle than we are," Eragon said with a wry smile.

"If it presents them an opportune moment to feast, then they will hope for anything," Arya answered not pausing in her long strides as they ran side by side with one another. She was, Eragon observed, the faster of the two.

Eragon entered the pavilion, he was met by a steely rasp as Murtagh, Jormundur, and a half-dozen of Nasuada's commanders drew their swords at the intruders. The men lowered their weapons as Nasuada said, "Come here, Eragon."

"What is your bidding?" Eragon asked.

"Our scouts report that a company of some hundred Kull approach from the northeast."

Eragon frowned. He had not expected to encounters Urgals in this battle, since Durza no longer controlled them and so many had been killed in Farthen Dur. But if they had come, they had come. Though he wasn't sure whether or not it was to battle the Varden or something entirely different. "Do you wish for me to eliminate them? Saphira and I easily could."

Nasuada was watching both his and Murtagh's faces carefully as she said, "We can't do that, Eragon. They're flying a white flag, and they have asked to talk with me."

Eragon nodded contemplating the idea as Murtagh gaped at her. "Surely you don't intend to grant them an audience?"

"I will offer them the same courtesies I would to any foe who arrives under the banner of truce."

"They're brutes, though. Monsters! It's folly to allow them into the camp…Nasuada; I have seen the atrocities Urgals commit. They relish pain and suffering and deserve no more mercy than a rabid dog. There is no need for you to waste time over what is surely a trap. Just give the word and I and every last one of your warriors will be more than willing to kill these foul creatures for you."

"I don't see the harm in meeting with them," said Eragon interrupting the rather heated tension in the pavilion. Everyone's eyes jumped to him and he could see the approval in Nasuada's eyes at his words. "Even if it is a trap, Saphira and I are more than enough to fend them off."

"It's still too dangerous for her to meet with those monsters," protested Murtagh.

First Nasuada said something to Murtagh in a low undertone that none but Eragon and Arya caught. "Your training is indeed unfinished if you are so blinded." Then she raised her voice, an in it Eragon heard the same adamantine notes of command that her father had possessed. "You all forget that I fought in Farthen Dur, the same as you, and that I saw the savagery of the Urgals…However, I also saw that our own men commit acts just as heinous. I shall not denigrate what we have endured at the Urgals' hands, but neither shall I ignore potential allies when we are so greatly outnumbered by the Empire."

"My Lady, it's too dangerous for you to meet with a Kull."

"Too dangerous?" Nasuada raised an eyebrow. "While I am protected by Eragon, Saphira, Elva, and all the warriors around me? I think not."

"Thorn and I shall also accompany you," Murtagh said through gritted teeth, his left hand gripping the pommel of Zar'roc tightly.

"As will Eridor and I."

Nasuada nodded and faced her commanders as if daring them to challenge her protection when she was accompanied by three riders. Then at Nasuada's behest, her guards tied back the front and side panels of the pavilion, leaving it open for all to see and allowing the dragons to crouch low next to their riders. Then Nasuada seated herself in her high backed chair, and Jormundur and the other commanders arranged themselves in two parallel rows so that anyone who wished an audience with her had to walk between them. Eragon and Arya stood on her right hand, Murtagh and Elva on her left.

Less than five minutes later, a great roar of anger erupted from the eastern edge of the camp. The storm of jeers and insults grew louder until a single Kull entered their view, walking toward Nasuada while a mob of the Varden peppered him with taunts. The ram held his head high and bared his yellow fangs, but did not otherwise react to the abuse directed at him. He was a magnificent specimen, eight and a half feet tall, with strong, proud—if grotesque—features, thick horns that spiraled all the way around, and a fantastic musculature that made it seem he could kill a bear with a single blow. His only clothing was a knotted loincloth, a few plates of crude iron armor held together with scraps of mail, and a curved metal disk nestled between his two horns to protect the top of his head. His long black hair was in a queue.

As Eragon stood beside Nasuada he couldn't help but admire the Urgal's courage in confronting an entire army of enemies along and unarmed. When the Urgal stopped before the eaves if the pavilion, not daring to come any closer Nasuada had her guards shot for quiet to settle the crowd. Everyone looked at the Urgal, wondering what he would do next.

The Urgal lifted his bulging arms towards the sky, inhaled a mighty breath and then opened his maw and bellowed at Nasuada. In an instant, a thicket of swords pointed at the Kull, but he paid them no attention and continued his ululation until his longs were empty. Then he looked at Nasuada, ignoring the hundreds of people who longed to kill him. "What treachery is this, Lady Nightstalker? I was promised safe passage. Do humans break their words so easily?"

Trying to clear some confusion, Eragon bent down to whisper to Nasuada, "Don't take offense. This is how they greet their war chiefs. The proper response is to then butt heads, but I don't think you want to try that."

She nodded, and then she said to the Kull and also to her men beyond, "The Varden are not liars like Galbatorix and the Empire. Speak your mind; you need fear no danger while we hold council under the conditions of truce."

The Urgal grunted and raised his head even higher in a gesture of friendship. "I am Nar Garzhvog of the Bolvek tribe. I speak for my people." It seemed as if he chewed on each word before spitting it out. "Urgals are hated more than any other race. Elves, dwarves, humans all hunt us, burn us, and drive us from our halls."

"Not without good reason," pointed out Nasuada.

Garzhvog nodded. "Not with reason. Out people love war. Yet how often are we attacked just because you find us as ugly as we find you?" At this, Eragon chuckled lightly and even Arya had a faint smile on her face. He never did see it _that_ way. "We have thrived since the fall of the Riders. Our tribes are now so large; the harsh land we live in can no longer feed us."

"So you made a pact with Galbatorix."

"Aye, Lady Nightstalker. He promised us good land if we killed his enemies. He tricked us, though. His flame-haired shaman, Durza, bent the minds of our war chiefs and forced our tribes to work together, as is not our way. When we learned this in the dwarves' hollow mountains, the Herndall, the dams who rule us, sent my brood mate to Galbatorix to ask why he used us so." Garzhvog shook his head. "She did not return. Our finest rams died for Galbatorix, and then he abandoned us like a broken sword. He is drajl and snake-tongued and a lack-horned betrayer. Lady Nightstalker, we are fewer now, but we will fight with you if you let us."

"What is the price?" asked Nasuada. "Your Herndall must want something in return."

"Blood. Galbatorix's blood. And if the Empire falls, we ask that you give us land, land for breeding and growing, land to avoid more battles in the future."

Despite the opposition that Murtagh and her commanders had, Nasuada briefly glanced at Eragon and he nodded a small inclination of his head. She again lifted her voice, "Very well, Nar Garzhvog. You and your warriors may bivouac along the eastern flank of our army, away from the main body, and we shall discuss terms of our pact."

"Ahgrat ukmar," growled the Kull, clapping his fists to his brow. "You are a wise one Herndall, Lady Nightstalker."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Herndall?"

"No, Nightstalker?"

Garzhvog made a _rut-rut_ sound that Eragon interpreted as laughter. "Nightstalker is the name we gave your sire because of how he hunted us in the dark tunnels under the dwarf mountain and because of the color of his hide. As his cub, you are worthy of the same name." Instead of turning to leave, he remained where he was which prompted a question from Nasuada.

"Is there something else you wish to discuss with me?"

"No but with your rider, Lady Nightstalker." There was a ripple of movement as everyone turned their gaze to Eragon who was staring at the Kull with interest. Nasuada nodded and motioned for Eragon to speak.

"And what is it that you wish to speak with me about, Garzhvog?" Eragon asked.

"My tribe and I," he began his head held high, "We are honored to have the chance to battle alongside such a mighty warrior, and one who has done so much for us, Firesword."

Eragon frowned, "What do you mean? I have killed scores of your kin."

"By killing Durza, you freed us from his control. We are in your debt Firesword. None of our rams will challenge you, and if you visit our halls, you and the dragon, Flametongue, will be welcomed as no outsiders ever before."

He had not expected such a response from the Kull, lifting his head high in a gesture of respect Eragon said, "You honor me so, Nar Garzhvog. I won't forget. And if the Empire falls, then I would like to visit your halls one day."

The Kull nodded and with that he turned on his heel and strode out of camp. Standing Nasuada proclaimed, "Anyone who attacks the Urgals shall be punished as if he attacked a fellow human. See that word of this is posted in every company."

No sooner had she finished than Eragon noticed King Orrin approaching at a quick pace, his cape flapping about him. When he was close enough, he cried, "Nasuada! Is it true you met with an Urgal? What do you mean but it, and why wasn't I alerted sooner? I don't—"

He was interrupted as a sentry emerged from the ranks of gray tents, shouting, "A horseman approaches from the Empire!"

In an instant, King Orrin forgot his argument and joined Nasuada as she hurried toward the vanguard of the army, followed by at least a hundred people. Rather than stay among the crowd, Eragon as well as Arya and Murtagh pulled themselves on their dragons allowing them to carry them to their destination.

When they halted at the ramparts, trenches, and rows of sharpened poles that protected the Varden's leading edge, Eragon saw a lone soldier riding at a furious clip across the bleak no-man's-land. The soldier reined in his stallion some thirty yards away from the breastwork. "By refusing King Galbatorix's generous terms of surrender, you choose death as your fate. No more shall we negotiate. The hand of friendship has turned into the fist of war! If any of you still hold regard for your rightful sovereign, the all knowing, all-powerful King Galbatorix, then flee! None may stand before us once we set forth to cleanse Alagaesia of every miscreant, traitor, and subversive." Eragon sat bored as he listened to the soldier's long rant. That was until he decided to throw a severed head of one of the Varden's envoys at them.

And then it was Eridor to his surprise, who decided the man's fate by burning him alive. He glanced at Arya and she merely shrugged. The Varden cheered Eridor's accomplishment. Even Nasuada allowed a small smile before she clapped her hands. "They will attack at dawn, I think. Eragon, gather Du Vrangr Gata and prepare yourself for action. I will have orders for you within the hour." Taking Orrin by the shoulder, she guided him back toward the center of the compound saying, "Sire, there are decisions we must make. I have a certain plan, but it will require…"

_Let them come, _Saphira said. The tip of her tail twitched as she nudged Eridor with her snout. The emerald dragon blinked at her. _They will all burn. _

That night as he'd done all sorts of orders that Nasuada had sent him, Eragon had made sure to find his parents before he fighting began to make sure that they were safe. He couldn't risk his mother's safety especially not with her with child. His father had dutifully stayed by her side, promising to make sure that no harm would come to her. And though he ached to put Rosalie and Desdemona on guard duty, he knew it would irk them to no end.

The sky pitch black over the Burning Plains, Eragon had found Arya waiting silently with Eridor for the battle to begin. She stood detached from the rest of the Varden's company, Eragon made his way over to her. The clanking of his armor drew her stare as well as Saphira's loud thuds. Both dragons, like Eragon and Arya, were armored for battle. "Anxious?" asked Eragon as he stopped before her.

She shook her head, her long tresses shifting as she did so. "Not quite," the two of them turned to stare out over the Burning Plains and what would be their battlefield tomorrow morning. "How do you feel about Nasuada's pact with the Urgals?"

"She did it for the sake of the Varden and for that I commend her," said Arya simply. "In war, a leader cannot simply do what the masses believe to be right but what they believe to be in the best interest of their subjects. And she'd performed that part dutifully."

He nodded, "Are you prepared for dawn to come? Or do you need more time?" asked Eragon as an afterthought.

Arya's eyes twinkled as she held his gaze knowing that he was hinting at the fact that she always needed a decent amount of time for preparation. As he stared at her emerald eyes barely visible in the dim light of the campfires, he felt his tenderness for Arya burst forth. Ever since their union he found himself in her company constantly, something he'd grown used to and fond of. And even though he knew that she was a proud warrior, he wanted to protect her. Though he didn't dare voice that thought out loud knowing that it would only cause to anger her. Reaching forward he gently brushed a lock of hair out of her face inhaling the fragrance of crushed pine needles that refreshed his mind.

As the two of them stood there a harsh wail that pierced the air caused them to start. _What was that? _Saphira raised her head searching for the disruption.

_It comes from the Empire's camp. _

Then the volume of cries increased until he was sure that the entire camp of the Varden could hear it as well. "What has happened?" Arya murmured, her head tilted to the side in slight annoyance at the piercing wails.

"If I were to guess correctly, I would say that Angela's brews of poisons are responsible for this," said Eragon as he tried to ignore the wails. "There's always something about her that you've to watch for."

Arya nodded. "It is an underhanded act but much needed if we are to prevail in this battle." Her lips were set into a thin line. Eragon nodded and the two of them waited with the dragons until the first rays of dawn came. But before they did, Eragon had reached forward to give Arya a chaste kiss.

"May Tamerlein win you much glory, Arya."

Her eyes were soft as they gazed up at him, her hand come to rest on the side of his face. "And may you bring us victory, Eragon."

He nodded leaning into her hand as they waited for the signal to break and face the early dawn that brought with it a momentous battle. Fate was converging on them.

**Once again Merry Christmas everyone! And to all a good night :) **

**P.S. I dutifully stayed away from beer but I had a nice touch of a rather delightful bottle of wine...**


	43. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

**And so here is the Battle of the Burning Plains (with a few mixture of CP's original battle thought not as much). With this chapter it marks the end of Eldest and the halfway mark through my Inheritance Rewrite and I'm very much excited to reach the end of this story. It's odd, when I started this rewrite I wanted to keep it as close as I could to the original plot but just with some differances. But when I read it, it's totally different. I must say that I'm impressed with myself. Anyways, enjoy reading everyone consider this as a New Years Gift. **

The first horizontal rays of dawn already streaked across the land when Trianna said to Eragon. _It is time. _He and Arya shared one last look and kiss before they clambered onto their saddles. Saphira moved forward, her movement causing loud thuds in the ground as she walked towards the front lines like they'd planned. Nasuada was against the idea at first but she had eventually consented when the Varden needed to see a strong showing of their rider to gain to moral to keep fighting.

It didn't take long for them to reach the opening that was cleared during the night. The Varden poured through the gap, quiet as they could be. Rank upon rank of warriors marched past and to Eragon's pleasant surprise, Bard led the first battalion which consisted of recent warriors from the Empire. Their shoulders were set and face determined. It impressed him to see them so calm and collected especially with the prospect of facing their old comrades in battle. On top of Saphira, he could see Nasuada on her roan charger surrounded by a group of people that consisted of Arya and Murtagh as well as Thorn and Eridor, Trianna, and his three other servants. They each acknowledged each other with quick glances.

During the night, the vapors of the Burning Plains had accumulated low to the ground allowing the Varden to cross three quarters of no-man's-land before they were seen by the Empire's sentries. As alarm horns rang out before them, Nasuada shouted, "Now, Eragon! Tell Orrin to strike. To me, men of the Varden! Fight to win back your homes. Fight to guard your wives and children! Fight to overthrow Galbatorix! Attack and bather your blades in the blood of our enemies! Charge!" She spurred her horse forward and with a great bellow, the men followed, shaking their weapons above their heads.

Doing as she'd ordered, Eragon conveyed Nasuada's orders to Barden, the spell caster who rode with King Orrin. A moment later, he heard the drumming of hooves as Orrin and his cavalry—accompanied by the rest of the Kull, who could run as fast as horses—galloped out of the east. They charged into the Empire's flank, pinning the soldiers against the Jiet River and distracting them long enough for the Varden to cross the remainder of the distance between them without opposition.

The two armies collided with a deafening roar. And through the harsh shouts and clashes of swords against shields, a feeling of exhilarating freedom overwhelmed him. There was a freedom in battle that couldn't be found anywhere else. Almost immediately he felt his ward drawing upon his strength as they deflected attacks from Saphira, Arya, and Nasuada.

He frowned as he glanced at the overwhelming mass of the Empire's army. There must be a great deal of magicians in their ranks. _Trianna, _he sent his thoughts to the sorceress. _I will be busy fighting but once you find the mind of a magician alert me and I shall dispatch them. _

_Yes, Shadeslayer._

Bringing forth his bow and arrow bestowed upon him by Queen Islanzadi, Eragon notched an arrow and aimed it for the catapults that were stationed throughout the Empire's army. Narrowing his eyes, he let it forth with a murmur of the word: brisingr. He smiled satisfied that his arrow managed to pierce the wood of the catapult, causing it to ignite in flames like a bonfire. _So Durza's dark magic was useful in some terms, _Eragon thought. Ridding the Empire of these catapults would greatly staunch their efforts in fending off the Varden's masses.

Du Vrangr Gata found the first enemy spellcasters. The instant he was alerted Eragon reached out to the woman who made the discovery and with the immense power of his own mind he easily slew the magician in a grand display of theatrics also killing the company of soldiers he protected. A knot in the Empire's army fell to the ground to the cheers of the Varden. That would surely bring fear to the rest of the Empire's magicians.

The fighting went well from where he sat atop Saphira. As she bathed their enemies on the ground in her torrents of flames, he showered them with arrows from above. Slightly behind him, Murtagh was trying to dispatch the rest of the catapults that were now being manned and releasing blocks of ceramic balls and liquid fires. Arya and Eridor were terrifying in their own right as they dispatched every enemy soldier they came across with ease and grace. As Eragon fought he felt a hint of pride color his emotions. He was far from worrying about Arya. Notching another arrow, he sent it flying to one the few catapults that remained watching as it caught firing collapsing in on itself as it fell on a group of soldiers that surrounded it.

After another hour of fighting atop Saphira and overwhelming magician after magician, Eragon let out a curse. He was doing no good sitting atop Saphira and merely shooting arrows at his enemies. With ease, he dismounted and positioned himself near her right paw. _Enough of this, let us show them what it truly means to fear a dragon and her rider. _

Saphira roared in response causing the enemies before her to falter in instinctive fear. She crouched low on the ground here sapphire eyes glittering. Drawing out both of his blades, he bent his knees ready to launch forward in any moment's notice. _Yes, let us, little one. _

_Ready? _Her answer to his question was to lurch forward her jaws opening as torrents of flames erupted from her maw, burning alive the soldiers before her. Letting their consciousness merge into one mine and one identity, the two of them charged the front lines of the Empire's army. It was amazing the ease in which they fought. Ignoring the cries of terror and the expression of betrayal on the soldiers' faces as they recognized that Eragon was truly Gabranth, the rider whom they'd served under, he slew the soldiers in his way. Blades dancing in his hands, he cut one soldier after the other down, while Saphira with her claws and jaws snapped and stomped on the other enemies. And they carried this out so until a berth of space was given to them, for their enemies feared the death they would bring them.

Behind him, he heard the Varden's cheers as they also swarmed forward. He had no trouble in eliminating those before him but he could tell that Murtagh was having a much more difficult time. It must be hard for him to fight against his own race. But Eragon had long but abandoned that hardship during his time under Galbatorix. Arya and Eridor had remained with the front line of the Varden to prevent any of the Empire's soldiers to break through their ranks. Bard with his strategic planning had maneuvered his battalion into a position so that the Empire's only choice was to retreat. And from the midst of the Varden he saw Nasuada well and on her charger, her blade coated with gore and blood as she shouted heartening words to her subjects. Beside her were Rosalie and Desdemona, who protected her with sword, shield, and magic. Finny being inhumanly strong had grabbed the stakes from where they were in the trenches guarding the Varden's leading lines and launching it at the Empire taking down scores of men one after the other. It was a heartening sight to see that they weren't in clear defeat and that the Empire was retreating with every advance the Varden made on it leaving in their wake, hundreds of their fallen comrades.

Eragon slashed down another foe in his way. Though they may be effective in pushing the Empire's army into a slow retreat, they refused to give way. And soldier after soldier took the position of another. And when another died, one more would take his place. Du Vrangr Gata was doing well on seeking out Galbatorix's magicians until a good number of them were dead, leaving their soldiers unprotected. Knowing that, Eragon had reached for magic to fight the soldiers before him using the twelve words for death. And they fell before him like leaves in the summer breeze. He glanced towards his side to see Murtagh and Thorn, behind him, he could feel Arya and Eridor. Reaching with his mind towards them, he was glad that they recognized him, it would distract him for a moment if they were to attack his mind in fear it was an enemy magician. _What is it, Eragon? _Murtagh questioned as he dodged a mace to his head.

_Yes, what indeed? _Arya agreed.

_How do you feel about joining Saphira and I? _His question caught them off guard but they eventually understood what he was asking. A few moments later, Thorn appeared on Saphira's right flank with Murtagh, Orik, and his guards centered about him. Then Arya and Eridor joined Saphira's left flank. They were all smeared and mattered with gore and blood, whether it was theirs or their enemies, he couldn't tell. Before them, Galbatorix's soldiers wavered at the sight of the line that the three dragons formed. _Saphira…_

She opened her maws, Thorn and Eridor following suit, and breathed flames onto the Empire's army. If it wasn't for the fact that they were surrounded by battle and death, he would have called it beautiful. Jets of emerald, sapphire, and ruby flames burst forward, burning their enemies alive. Once done, Eragon nodded to Murtagh and Arya. Then they charged their dragons behind them. Eragon had often fought with Arya but to fight with her and Murtagh by his side was different. While he weaved between Arya's dance of death, he often assisted in Murtagh's charge in slewing their opponents. The three of them were too much for the Empire and soldiers after soldiers scrambled backwards away from them knowing that to face them was to face death. As Arya danced by with Tamerlein in hand, drenched with blood she smiled at him fierce and joyous not showing her exhaustion. He returned it in kind knowing the emotions that she felt. And onward they forged, the three of them in their ferocious charge.

And the sun began its descent toward evening.

As they prepared themselves to continue their assault, a trumpet sounded in the east, loud and clear, and King Orrin shouted, "The dwarves are here! The dwarves are here!"

_Dwarves? _Eragon blinked and glanced around as did Arya and Murtagh but the only ones around them were soldiers, friends and enemies alike. Then it registered to him. King Hrothgar and his army had finally arrived to aid them. Murtagh had climbed onto Thorn to look out to the east, then he shouted with renewed vigor, Thorn's roars echoing louder than his. "Take heart! King Hrothgar is here! And it looks like every single dwarf is behind him! We'll crush the Empire!" the men roared. "Now take your swords and remind these flea-bitten cowards why they should fear us. Charge!"

Just as they charged again, Eragon heard a second shout, this one from the west, "A ship! A ship is coming up the Jiet River!"

He frowned, a ship? _Thorn and I shall attend to it, Eragon. _He nodded and the two of them took off, veering west towards the Jiet River to deal with the upcoming ship. He turned to Arya, helping her to kill the seven soldiers before her.

_Would you like to dance with me? _

Her thoughts flowed through his own mind, filled with adrenaline and a very small tint of amusement. _Can you keep up? _

He grinned, taking his position beside her. _I could dance all day. _With that they ran forward, Eragon in the lead. As he brought his sword down on one enemy, he would move his feet to allow Arya to twist about him and in a flurry of grace and elegance dispatch oncoming soldiers. It was a dance of death. Though Eragon didn't think of himself as an elegant dancer, when it came to a blade however, he outdid even the most trained swordsman. As he watched Arya fight, he paused for a moment to admire her speed and grace. Her hair twirled about her, her eyes slanted in concentration, and her body movements fluid and graceful. And for a moment he didn't think he would mind dying by her sword.

_If you don't pay attention, you'll die by another's sword, _said Saphira. He dodged a blow to his head and shrugged when Arya's questioning expression met his. She would no doubt be mad about the fact that he was distracted by her appearance in battle. Once this was all over, he was going to embrace her for the longest time in his life, glad that she nor Saphira was his enemy. _That's very sweet of you._

_Eragon, _it was Murtagh, _Do not attack the ship; it doesn't belong to the Empire. It's come to our aid. Spread the word to Trianna and the others for me, will you?_

_I shall,_ though he was curious as to who was on that ship, Eragon contacted Trianna to tell her to leave the ship and she in turn relayed the message to Nasuada. Blocking a swipe to his gut, he easily severed his opponent's head and in a crude display, kicked it at the soldiers before him knocking three to the ground. Arya's expression was one of disdain but she didn't voice her opinion on it as she brought Tamerlein upward in an arch, slashing a soldier straight up from groin to head. If that wasn't a painful death, he didn't know what was.

With the help of the dwarves, the tide of battle which was already tilted in the Varden's favor became even more so. Together they pushed back the Empire, dividing them, crushing them, and forcing Galbatorix's vast army into submission. Their efforts were also helped by some of Angela's poisons that had taken effect during the battle. Many of the Empire's officers behaved irrationally which caused confusion in their ranks allowing the Varden to easily dispatch of them. The soldiers seem to realize that they no longer had a chance of winning, for hundreds surrendered, or defected outright and turned on their former comrades, or threw down their weapons and fled.

And the day passed into the late afternoon.

Eragon was in the midst of fighting two soldiers when a flaming javelin roared past overhead and buried itself in one the Empire's command tents twenty yards, away setting it ablaze. He frowned killing the two soldiers before glancing back at the source of the missile. It came from the ship banked on the Jiet River and soon, a dozen more followed. _What are they playing at? _

Soon afterward, a horn echoed from the read of the Empire's army, then another and another. Someone began to pound a sonorous drum, the peals of which stilled the field as everyone looked around for the source of the beat. He glanced overhead, a strange sensation coming to life in his heart. An ominous figure detached itself from the sky like a barbed black shadow. The tugging in his heart became stronger and his right eye burned. _Not now! _Then a ray of light escaped the cloud and struck the figure crossways from the west.

It was a hideous beast. With the form of a dragon, the monster floated above them its skin, or scale, soot black. His wing membrane was thin and ebony, his underbelly was not like Saphira's or any of the dragons but thin as if malnourished, the skin clinging to its rib cage. It bore long fangs for teeth, spaced unevenly about its mouth, some overlapping the other. In his charcoal eyes, gleamed a terrible thirst for blood. _What on earth is that thing? _

_An imitation of a dragon, _Saphira answered sniffing the air above them. _Can you sense it? The Eldunari holding that abomination together? _He reached out with his mind and indeed he could, lodged deep within the beast's chest was the power of an Eldunari, an old one that was fueling the creature with energy.

_What is it made of?_

_Rotting flesh. _

His face scrunched up in disgust. Never had he thought that Galbatorix would resort to such foul tricks. It was revolting. _If we can kill it then we can save that Eldunari, _said Eragon. He felt her consent and was about to climb onto her until he caught sight of a dark saddle strapped onto the beast. In it sat a man garbed in polished steel armor and in his hand he wielded and colorless blade.

_He too has the power of the Eldunari with him, though younger, _Eragon frowned watching as the man lifted his hand and a ball of sapphire light gathered in his open palm. His heart pounded in his chest as he felt his soul reach out for the energy. _It couldn't be! _The sapphire ball of energy sprang from his hand and smote King Hrothgar on the breast, killing the dwarf king. Eragon grunted going to one knee as he felt his heart pound erratically in his chest.

_Eragon! _Saphira roared, swiping at soldiers who had seen his moment of weakness and were running forward to charge him. _What is wrong? _

_My soul—I don't—_he grunted as he heard the dwarves' cries of anger and sorrow, Thorn's roars added to the grief. "Eragon Shadeslayer," a mocking voice boomed out over the Burning Plains. "Traitor to your king, Empire, and people! Come and face me if you dare! Let Jeremiah Asburg teach you the true meaning of treason!"

_Jeremiah Asburg? _He remembered the man next to Barst. A proud commander, devoted to Galbatorix, someone who would rather cut off both of his hands before upsetting the king. So this is who he sent to face Eragon. Shaking off the constricting feeling in his chest, he climbed onto Saphira. _Fly, Saphira. _

_Eragon—_

_I'll be alright;_ she hesitated for another moment before unfurling her wings and pushing off from the ground, gaining leverage and altitude. Making sure to protect his mind against Jeremiah and the countless hearts that he must be carrying, Eragon sheathed one of his blades as he readied the other. Jeremiah was a young man; he had a hard face and strong jaw, his aura one of pure authority. But as they stared at one another in the air, Eragon felt slightly sick when he smelt the rotting flesh of the beast that he rode. _Disgusting. _

The two beasts collided, Saphira being the bigger of the two but the black beast that he rode powered by the Eldunari was the stronger one for it batted her away with ease. She didn't abate in her attacks but charged again, this time using her hind legs and jaws to injury the beast. Eragon frowned when he saw chunks of rotting flesh fall to the battle field below, the beast seemingly immune to the injuries it was receiving. Through their connection Eragon could feel Saphira's distaste having to tear away at rotting flesh.

He turned to Jeremiah, he couldn't fight him with his mind, it would be too dangerous. And crossing swords while Saphira was locked in battle could hurt her. "You look much like an elf than a monster, Eragon, or should I say Gabranth?" Jeremiah called out to him, his voice deep and filled with vengeance.

"I'd prefer it if you call me Eragon." He said amidst the snarls of the Saphira and the beast. "Has Galbatorix become desperate enough to turn to false imitations such as this?"

"_His majesty _has decided that he'd let you and the rest of the riders spend too much time out of the Empire. He wishes to see that you return to Uru'baen," said Jeremiah with a sneer.

Eragon raised a brow, unmoved, "And what if I don't?"

"Thrysta!" He grunted as a ball of sapphire hit him square in the chest and that was when he felt it again, the familiar sensation as if he was connected to the magic. He had no doubt about it anymore; Jeremiah had half of his soul. Falling from his saddle, he tried to keep from rotating not frightened that he could possibly be falling to his death. If Jeremiah had half of his soul, would he be powerless in fighting a part of him? Would it even work like that?

Before he could think anymore on it, a hand gripped his catching him from falling to a fatal landing on the Burning Plains. He glanced up to find Arya staring down at him, riding atop Eridor. He gave her a grateful look, she nodded.

_I'm underneath you, Eragon, _below him, he saw Saphira waiting, suspended in air for him to return to his saddle. Releasing Arya's hand, he landed perfectly in the saddle.

_We must land Saphira; it's too dangerous to fight Jeremiah like this. _She consented and descended to the nearest flat open area, a small stone plateau set along the western edge of the Jiet River. The water had turned red from the blood pouring into the river. Dismounting Saphira, he turned in time to see Jeremiah jumping from the foul beast that he rode.

They didn't give each other a moment more and charged blade in hand. Fighting Jeremiah was more difficult than he had thought. With the Eldunari on his side, he could withstand most of Eragon's attacks though he couldn't compete with the speed Eragon possessed. Moving forward, he cut the man on his face watching as blood oozed out from the cut. Jeremiah swung at him, retreating he grunted when the tip of his blade managed to get past his wards and knick his armor. Wards were ineffective against him it seemed.

"You can't win against me, Jeremiah," said Eragon as he took a defensive position. "I will always be the better of us."

"That may be so, but let me test your theory," when the ball of sapphire energy flew towards him, he dodged ignoring the rapid beating of his heart as it recognized that the energy belonged to its other half. His right eye burned. Taking advantage of his temporary blindness, another ball of energy hit him sending him flying to the ground.

He felt anger wash over him fierce and uncontrolled at the thought of Jeremiah using his soul to fight him. Rushing forward he brought his blade up and they met clash for clash until Jeremiah shouted a harsh word. As Eragon stood there struggling with one of his blades to unbalance the man, the point in which metal met metal glowed brightly until to his dismay his sword snapped under the pressure and the force of it unbalanced him allowing Jeremiah to send him to the ground with a kick. His broken sword flying out of his hand he scowled, finally angered to the point it made him want to rip the man's heart out. First his soul and now his sword…

_Then do it, Eragon. _He froze where he lay on the ground when he heard his shadow's voice swim through his mind. He'd forgotten what he sounded like. _I can help you teach him a lesson if you let me. _

He hesitated. It would be too dangerous to trust in the words of the spirit.

_It will be very easy if you use my magic to defeat him, with the seal over you right eye, how much harm can it be? _Eragon thought for a moment to himself. He couldn't overcome Jeremiah's magic and if he wanted to survive…A laugh echoed through his mind as his shadow laughed at his acceptance. Immediately, he felt wave after wave of energy pulse through him and Saphira.

Getting to his feet, he rolled his neck from side to side trying to remove the kink he had from landing rather badly. A feeling of blood thirst washed over him followed by the desire to sink his sword into flesh. Letting a laugh escape his body, he faced Jeremiah. "How dare you use my soul against me, you filthy human," Eragon raised his hand watching as a shaft of crackling violet energy spring forth. It smote Jeremiah on the shoulder causing him to hollow in pain. He walked forward, sword in hand, feeling pleased at the sound of his pain. "You'll pay in blood for your folly."

Raising his sword, he brought it down severing Jeremiah's right arm from elbow to hand, a fountain of blood spraying him. He laughed unable to control the feelings that passed through him from his shadow. Below him, Jeremiah was pale as he raised his left hand and yelled something.

Blinded, Eragon stumbled backwards. When he regained his bearings he glanced up to find Jeremiah and his beast flying off towards the direction of Uru'baen specks of blood raining down on him. He cursed _should we chase them? _

_No, I'm tired and you are not in your right mind, Eragon._ He nodded and with some difficulty, suppressed the spirit in him. It took a while but he managed but the seal in his right eye didn't feel like it used to. When he was done he stared at where Jeremiah had left feeling loneliness wash over him. His soul was in his reach and yet, he couldn't take it back…

The battle was over from what Eragon saw as he stood on the plateau overlooking the Burning Plains. The Varden had won the battle despite the overwhelming numbers that they'd faced. He sighed, taking in a deep breath as he thought of Jeremiah and the Eldunari he carried. Next time they met he was going to tear him in half. _You and I both. _

After a moment, he pointed towards where the Varden was regrouping, _we should search for Nasuada. _Now that his bloodlust had abated he felt tired for the first time that day. He did not mind killing others in war, but the thought of slaying so many made him somewhat saddened at the loss of life. He turned to Saphira as they picked their way between the corpses that littered the Burning Plains. _Are you hurt Saphira? _

_A few scratches but nothing life threatening, you can heal me once we find Nasuada, _he nodded. As they walked and he healed those who were wounded in their path, a hundred yards away he saw Orik bent over his fallen king as well as ten other dwarves and Murtagh. _Another tragedy war has brought upon us. _

Eragon nodded at her words and they continued onward, angling towards the Varden's encampment. When they reached Nasuada's pavilion, Saphira went to join Eridor who was lying outside the command tent, his armor coated in blood but he otherwise looked well. He lifted his head at her approach allowing her to lie down beside him resting her head in his paws as he rest his head atop hers in an intimate gesture.

Eragon spared them one glance before he swept back the flap and ducked inside. In the center of the tent was Nasuada, who sat on the edge of a table, letting a maid remove her twisted armor while she carried on a heated discussion with Arya. To his relief they were unhurt and well.

They both stopped as they spotted him. Arya made her way towards him her eyes blazing and they both reached towards each other at the same time. In moments they were embracing one another, he took a deep breath inhaling her scent. Even though she was smeared in blood, she was still beautiful. After a moment, he gently kissed the side of her head before pulling away from Arya to face Nasuada who also embraced him. When they pulled away, she returned to her table.

"We were worried about you," he walked forward Arya's hand intertwined in his, "We couldn't see what happened to you and Saphira after you landed on plateau. When the dragon—beast— left and you didn't reappear, Arya tried to contact you but felt nothing, so we assumed. . ." she trailed off. He understood then the reason for Arya's embrace. "We were just debating the best way to transport Du Vrangr Gata and an entire company of warriors across the river."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I'd forgotten that I'd had my mind guarded during the battle," Eragon explained, he gently squeezed Arya's hand, she shifted on her feet acknowledging his statement. Then they set off on how to transport the Varden across the Jiet River when the flap was pulled open again. Instinctively, his free hand went to his sword, only sword, at the new arrivals. It was just Murtagh and another person who looked no older than him, he had brown hair and brown eyes, a regular appearance but the expression of determination on his face made him stand out.

Nasuada went to embrace Murtagh as well which seemed to please his tired half-brother. "Are you well?" asked Murtagh as he studied the dark skinned leader.

"Never better, but I'm tired, war certainly takes a lot out of one," Nasuada said with a slight smile. "In any case are you and Thorn well?"

"We are," said Murtagh, then he brought forth the man standing beside him. "Nasuada, I would like to introduce my cousin, Roran. Ajihad may have mentioned him to you before. Roran, Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden. And this is Arya Svit-kona, the elves' ambassador." Roran bored to each of them in turn. Hesitating, Murtagh gestured towards Eragon, "And this is my half brother, Eragon Shadeslayer."

The surprise that crossed his face which was later replaced behind a mask of polite indifference didn't go unnoticed by anyone. So this was his cousin on his mother's side. Eragon spared him another glanced before turning back to Nasuada.

"It is an honor to meet Eragon's and Murtagh's cousin," said Nasuada.

"Indeed," added Arya. Eragon politely inclined his head when he felt Saphira's thoughts nudge him to be polite.

"A pleasant surprise," said Eragon with some difficulty. He didn't know Roran and couldn't claim that he liked what he saw in the man. He was proud and by the looks of it, as stubborn as a mule.

After they had finished exchanging greetings, Murtagh had explained how the entire village of Carvahall had arrived on the _Dragon Wing._ He was impressed with him truth be told and he could tell that Arya was as well. It was one thing to transverse the land of Alagaesia by himself but to take an entire village with him was a different story entirely.

"May they join the Varden, Nasuada?" asked Murtagh at the end of his narration.

She raised a dark eyebrow, studying Roran who didn't flinch or lower his gaze. "The Varden are in your debt Roran, it was you and your people who had helped us in destroying the tents of the Empire's commanders allowing us to send them into confusion. You helped us to win this battle. I won't forget that. Our supplies are limited, but I will see that everyone on your ship is clothed and fed, and that your sick are treated."

Roran bowed even lower, "Thank you, Lady Nasuada."

"If I weren't pressed for time, I would insist upon knowing how and why you and your village evaded Galbatorix's men, traveled to Surda, and found us. Even just the bare facts of your trek make for an extraordinary tale. I shall intend to learn the specifics—especially since I suspect that it concerns Murtagh—but I must deal with other, more urgent matters at the moment."

"Of course, Lady Nasuada."

"You may go, then."

"Please let him stay," Murtagh said, Nasuada gave him a quizzical look but heeded his request but instead turned to Eragon, asking him for his report on the battle.

Eragon told her of the composition of the beast that Galbatorix had created, made from rotting flesh—animal or human—he didn't know. That there was a certain spell that held the beast together, opting for not telling her of the Eldunari that created the creature. Then he spoke to her of Jeremiah and that he was one of Galbatorix's most devoted followers and that the king and endowed upon his powers that could rival a rider's. "In the few years that I've served Galbatorix, I had only met the man a handful of times but his loyalty to the Empire and to the king is deeper than his love for his parents or for himself. He'd rather lose his legs than displease Galbatorix."

"It's amazing how Galbatorix can garner so much loyalty from his subjects," observed Nasuada. Eragon nodded, continuing with his report. He told her of how in his anger to kill Jeremiah he had severed his arm and in his haste to escape, Jeremiah had blinded him and flew off with the beast made of rotting flesh.

"If we meet on the battle field again, I can assure you my lady that I'll rip his heart from his chest," said Eragon darkly as he thought of Jeremiah in possession of half of his soul. "He won't escape Saphira and I."

"I have no doubt about it," said Nasuada as she gazed at him. "In any case, we've dealt the Empire a stinging blow here at the Burning Plains. Our army which is smaller than Galbatorix's by compare has managed to force them to retreat and you've managed to injure their commander fatally. It will give the Varden much cause to continue our invasion of the Empire. You were right, Eragon." He stared at her not understanding where she was headed. "Talent and skill does determine the winner rather than sheer numbers."

He smiled slightly. "Yes, Rosalie and Desdemona fought beside you?"

"For beautiful young women, they are quite capable to slewing scores of men," she said with a faint smile. "And Finny has earned his title as a human catapult within our army. It is amazing the skills your servants possess."

"It is," he agreed thinking of them.

"Bard, I'm most impressed with. He has the strategic mind set of a commendable general." And for the next few minutes, they discussed the Varden's next actions and the best way to keep the warriors' morals high since they'd emerged victorious in this battle. At last Nasuada said, "Enough. We cannot decide this when we are bloody and tired and our minds clouded from fighting. Go, rest, and we shall take this up again tomorrow."

Eragon nodded and he and Arya left the command tent together. Once they were outside, Arya's nose scrunched up in disgust. "Do I smell horrid?" asked Eragon as he glanced down at himself, he was drenched in blood and his white cape that was bestowed upon him dripped crimson. He would have to wash that soon.

"No, the air is filled with the stench of blood and gore," she took a deep breath, the expression slowly melting from her face. "It is always unpleasant to bear after battle."

He glanced at her studying her armor for a moment, she was less covered in blood than he was, which irked him slightly. When he pointed it out, she smiled faintly. "That is because when I fight, it is but a swift and elegant dance. However, when you fight like you did today, it is rather. . . messy."

"So you say," said Eragon also smiling slightly.

"So I say." She agreed.

There was movement beside them and he turned to find the dragons up and on their feet, their armor sparkling in the dim light of the afternoon sun. They were beautiful if frightening. Behind him, he heard Murtagh and Roran speaking. "Will you not speak to your cousin?"

Eragon shook his head. "Not today, I'm rather tired. Maybe tomorrow. What will you do now?"

"Bathe and sleep." He nodded that sounded reasonable.

"I'd prefer the sleep."

"As I know you would."

"Will you leave now?"

She shook her head. "It has been a long battle, I would like to spend some time with you before I leave to attend to other duties." Eragon stared at her, smiling down into her emerald eyes. Though the both of them were dirtied with blood and gore and tired from the fighting that day, it was impossible not to feel their burdens lifted as they stood together, their hands intertwined like their destiny was.

Over the Burning Plains, their battle field in which corpse littered the crows and ravens were beginning to descend ready to feast on the dead.

**Please excuse some mistakes, my Beta is gone for the month (sadly enough) and I have to proof read the chapter and it's hard to catch mistakes when you're reading something that you wrote. Anyways, I hoped you all like this new enemy who possess half of Eragon's soul...What is going to happen to him now? Who knows, keep reading! Anyways, I hope you guys all had a wonderful christmas because I did and my New Years Party is coming up soon with my family and my boyfriend! I'm very excited for 2012! **


	44. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

**Wow! 900 Reviews! 100 more and it'll be a thousand (Though I would love for it to hit 1000 before New Years I don't mind it being in the 900s) Anyways, I'm going to be busy with my parents' birthdays to update this weekend. My dad's birthday is on December 31st and my mother's is on January 1st. (It's a pain because I go out of cash with every end and beginning to a year, but I love them to death) Not to mention it's New Years! Anyways, I'll have my hands filled then. So I'm going to update today for you all. **

Arya stared at the basin filled with water. It had only been two days since the battle on the Burning Plains and already the Varden was trying to bury their dead and prepare to continue their campaign to invade the Empire. The battle was both a victory and loss for the Varden. They were able to prove to the Empire that they weren't as weak as Galbatorix had thought but in doing so they'd lost hundreds of warriors. It was saddening.

At the moment, she was about to report to her mother who was no doubt near the western edge of Du Weldenvarden preparing to invade the nearest city in the Empire, Ceunon. She had held off the report long enough. Today she had to report to her mother about the battle and about her own personal decisions that involved Eragon. They were no doubt going to be at odds with one another again.

Thinking of Eragon, she felt herself instinctively relax as she thought of him lending an able hand in healing the wounded and burying the dead with the rest of the Varden. She would assist as well but her hands were tied down to other duties that she had to perform before she could do so. After another minute of staring at the water filled basin, she bent over it reaching for her energy as she murmured quietly, "Draumr kopa," as well as a variety of other spells so she may speak and listen to her mother and her advisors.

The water went completely black for a moment before an oval shape brightened in the middle of the water and she beheld the interior of a large white tent, in which she saw an Erisdar, one of their magical lanterns, but seeing as it was morning its glow was unneeded. A tall elf with silver hair and battle-worn armor entered her field of vision and she immediately recognized him as Lord Dathedr, one of her mother's advisors as well as Arya's friend. He inclined his head and touched the first two fingers of his right hand to his lips, greeting her in which she responded in kind.

After they were done, Dathedr spared her a faint smile, "I am glad to know that you are well, Arya Drottningu, we heard tides of you battle against the Empire a few days ago and have been much concerned for your welfare as well as the other riders."

"I thank you for your concern, Dathedr-vor, I am well as the others," said Arya, she pressed forward. "If it does not trouble you, I'm here to speak to Queen Islanzadi for I have to report the events of the Varden since the battle."

He held her gaze for a moment before nodding, "As you wish, Arya Drottningu. I shall inquire after the queen if you will wait."

"I shall wait. You assistance is more welcome Dathedr-vor," said Arya as she watched him leave her line of vision. Dathedr had been one of her close friends before she'd left Du Weldenvarden to become her mother's only ambassador and though he had warned against it, he had blessed her a safe journey when it seemed that she was determined to take the yawe upon her shoulder and devote her life to her people.

A minute passed and then another trickled by. Arya was not bothered by the time it took for she had lived a century and understood the importance of patience unlike her mate did. Letting her eyes wonder from the water, they stopped on the glass orb that contained the white rose that he had given her during the Agaeti Blodhren. She had taken it with her from Ellesmera unable to leave it behind. Though it may have been the first flower he had given her it wasn't perfect but she appreciated it all the same.

The sound of ripping cloth or something akin to it drew her attention back to the water. The entrance flap of the tent flew open as her mother thrust it aside gliding towards the seeing glass with such grace that even she couldn't mirror. She wore a bright corselet or golden scale armor, augmented with mail and greaves and a beautifully decorated helm. A red cape trimmed with white billowed from her shoulders. When her mother's gaze fell upon her, she felt an ache in her heart from the seven decades that her mother had banned her from her presence. Though it was long ago and she had forgiven her mother, it still came back to haunt her every time she glanced upon her mother's imperious and regal demeanor. And the thought of her mother going to war as commander of the elven army worried her.

Arya touched her lips with her fingers and twisted her hand over her chest in a gesture of loyalty and respect before she greeted her mother first knowing that she stood above all. When they were done and Arya had opted to end it with the three line of the greeting did her mother bestow upon her a smile. "I'm relieved and glad to see that you are unharmed from the battle, Arya. It pained me to know that you would be fighting against such uneven odds. But it seems that my worries are for not."

"It heartens me mother to know that you were concerned for my welfare but as you said, I am well as is Eridor and my companions. You can put your worries to rest," reassured Arya, knowing all too well the pain in the knowledge of having a family member fight and risk their lives. "The fighting goes well here with the Varden and what of you?"

"The fighting has yet to start, daughter of mine," said Islanzadi as she gazed upon Arya, her own emerald eyes bright and deep with age and wisdom. "But it shall be soon. Our rangers have been watching the people of Ceunon for some time now. And we are massing along the western edge of Du Weldenvarden, where we shall prepare to siege the city at any moment's notice. It has been a long time since any elf besides you and your fallen companions—Faolin and Glenwing—have fought, Arya but we are prepared to aid the Varden in this endeavor even at the costs of our lives and the lives of those dear to us."

Arya bowed her head, "In that reason mother, I've come to understand long ago."

"Arya—" her mother spoke as if it pained her.

"No matter, mother, it is our duty," said Arya as she lifted her head to gaze at her mother once more. This time, Islanzadi's brows were lowered over her eyes as if she was facing a bright light that blinded her. She blinked once before her expression returned to an open display of concern and hesitant affection.

"It is our duty," her mother echoed her before she paved onward. "Now what of the report that you wanted to give me?"

"Ah, yes," with that said, she began to recount the events of the battle in detail to her mother who had seated herself in a high chair and listened with rapt attention. First Arya went to explain how Angela had poisoned a numerous amount of soldiers, and her mother having known the herbalist nodded commending her despite her own ideals about honest battle. Then she led into the Varden's preemptive strike which gave them the upper advantage at the opening stages of the battle and how it crippled the Empire's ranks significantly.

She explained how Nasuada and Orrin commanded the soldiers from where they fought. She spoke of how Eragon and Saphira charged the Empire's front lines without fear or concern over their own safety as they forced the Empire into their slow retreat. She recounted how she saw Murtagh, Thorn, and his guards deliver their own blows to their opponents never faltering despite their weariness and exhaustion. She proudly spoke of how Eridor had killed every opponent that they came across with fang or claw or simply fire. She spoke of how Roran and his village had arrived on ship and aided in the defeat of the Empire but destroying the tents of their commanders. She spoke of Eragon's servants and their great aid in protecting Nasuada and slewing the men of the Empire. And last of all she recounted the beast made of rotting flesh and the man named Jeremiah Asburg who commanded Galbatorix's army during that battle and how he was endowed with such great strength and magic despite being a human. By the time she was done, her mother wore an expression of concentration as well as faint disgust no doubt revolted at the thought of a beast created from the rotting flesh of animal or human.

"It would seem," he mother said finally after her report. "That many factors have come into play during your battle with the Empire."

"They have," agreed Arya, watching her mother closely.

"And what of the Varden now and Nasuada?"

"They're in the midst of burying their dead and reorganizing to continue their campaign to invade the Empire," Arya answered. Her mother nodded.

"And what of our riders? Murtagh and Eragon, what is it that they are doing?"

Arya frowned at the sound of Murtagh's name. He as well as Thorn and Roran had departed from the Varden the day after the fighting to fly to Helgrind to rescue Roran's betrothed, Katrina, from the Ra'zac. And though both she and Nasuada were against the idea, Murtagh was adamant in assisting his cousin and after Thorn's irritation with them and a hotly discussed meeting did Nasuada and Arya consent to his decision. Though it was foolish. Explaining it to her mother she watched as her eyes narrowed into a displeased look.

"A foolish quest," she said. "We can only trust in their skill and strength to return to the Varden unharmed."

"Yes,"

"And what of Eragon? Has he decided to partake in any foolhardy adventure as his half brother did?"

Arya shook her head, "He has stayed behind to help assist in healing the wounded and burying the dead, mother." Her gaze flickered to the white rose that stood on a wooden stand that she'd carved on her bedside table and back to her mother again.

"That is pleasing news," Arya nodded, her lips thinning as she thought of a way to tell her mother her personal decision involving Eragon.

Islanzadi's expression grew soft, as she gazed upon Arya, "And what of you Arya?"

"I—" she stopped unable to continue, not knowing how to start. Or where to start. Eventually she continued speaking. "I wish to tell you a decision of mine, mother."

"And pray tell, what is this decision that you wish to tell me?"

Taking in a deep breath and releasing it, she held her mother's gaze with a determine expression and said, "I've decided to take Eragon Shadeslayer as my mate for however long I shall feel affectionately for him."

If her mother had been displeased before, she was outright furious. Her face grew hard, her slanting eyes narrowed and her brows meeting dangerously. But despite her countenance, she spoke in a level tone, "Of all the foolish decisions you could make. You've decided to take him for a mate?"

Arya felt resistance well up in her as well as anger at her mother's statement. "It is not a foolish decision, mother. I've chosen Eragon."

"You chose wrong."

"I have not," denied Arya, her own expression resembling her mother's. "I've thought long and hard about it and I came to the decision that I wished to be with him, for my feelings for him are those beyond mere companionship."

"Your emotions are tinted with Eridor's own feelings for Saphira,"

"They are not!" she took in a deep breath trying to restrain herself from losing composure and started again. "I know well enough what Eridor feels and what I feel. I do not need your counsel on what my heart tells me, mother. Like I did not need your counsel seventy years ago in taking up my post as ambassador."

A flash of hurt came and went on her mother's expression as Arya held her gaze, neither of them backing down from their position. "You are young, Arya. As well as Eragon. You are an elf and he a human. Though your feelings for him may persist, his may not. And you know as well as I that humans change from one fancy to the other. In ten, no five years, his feelings for you can change. Or shall you ignore the story of the Menoa tree?"

Arya frowned, though she had thought of her mother's reason, she didn't let them bother her. "Eragon is more elf than human mother. And both he and I are riders, we shall always be with one another whether in duty or in personal matters. I know him well enough to understand that once he is set upon something, he will not relinquish it with ease."

"You are blinded, Arya!"

"As you are!" replied Arya in the same cutting tone her mother had used. "You've chosen father as your mate and I've chosen Eragon."

"Do not compare your father to Eragon," said Islanzadi dangerously. "Eragon is not fit to be your mate in knowledge, age, and health. He is ill Arya, he can be dangerous."

Her eyes narrowed giving her an evil look. Though she had wished not for her report with her mother to turn into a argument, it was unavoidable for they were both stubborn and each held different views than the other. "Be that as it may, I've still chosen to stand by him as his mate with or without your blessings, mother. I had thought you wished to see me happy."

Her mother's expression softened slightly, but only slightly, "I _do_ wish to see you happy, Arya. But I'm afraid you won't find that happiness in Eragon. Instead, you will find pain and hurt if you are to continue to be with him."

Arya frowned, before holding her head high, "I've decided mother and I do not wish to fight with you over my personal decision. Our own relationship is still healing do not let this tarnish it."

Her mother's emerald eyes burned as they gazed at her but she nodded stiffly, "Very well, you've decided to stand by your decision like you did seven decades ago, ignoring my counsel as you do now. And I've decided to stand by mine, do not regret what your stubbornness shall bring about you, daughter."

Arya's expression hardened, "I shall not regret it, Islanzadi Drottning."

Islanzadi stared at her for a moment her expression strained and hard, before nodding, "As you should, Arya Drottningu. I shall review what you've reported to me."

When it was clear that neither of them wished to say anymore, she bowed her head stiffly, "Farewell, Islanzadi Drottning." The image flickered and then the water returned to its clear surface as she ended the spell. Speaking with her mother had put her in a saddened and angered mood. She'd expected as much but it still hurt to know that he mother did not trust in her decision whether it was seventy years ago or presently.

_I shall always stand by you, Arya,_ Eridor's deep voice rumbled in his head from where he was next to Saphira on the Burning Plains, helping to dispose of bodies. She sighed as she went to sit on her cot, her feet bare as she drew up her knees resting her head on them.

_I know and I will always be grateful to you, _she replied her thoughts slightly saddened at the pain it caused her to argue with her mother. It had only been recently that they were able to be mother and daughter but now it was being tested again and it was causing their relationship another strain. _I had hoped that it would not go badly with my mother but it seems to have anyways. _

_I'm sure that in time your mother will come to terms with your decision,_ said Eridor soothingly. _Do not let this bother you so. _

She nodded again but was unable to keep the hurt she felt at bay. Closing her eyes, she sighed. _If you don't mind, Eridor. May I be left alone to my own thoughts for the moment? _

He was reluctant at her request but acquiesced. The silence that followed was both painful and soothing. She didn't know how long she sat on her cot thinking to herself but her mind often wandered back to the recent bloodshed and her argument with her mother. The sound of her tent flap being pushed aside warned her to the presence of another. She tensed ready to draw Tamerlein which laid beside where she sat. Until the familiar scent of fresh air and a musky odor drifted to her that was uniquely Eragon. Her muscles relaxed when she heard him lower himself onto her cot before her.

He didn't say anything but his presence was enough to calm her mind and ease her hurt. Like it was when she was captured in Gil'ead, she had always felt safe with him beside her. Now was no different. She smiled humorlessly to herself, Eridor must have sent him to watch over her. After a moment, she heard him unlace his boots before tossing them to the side as if making himself comfortable on her cot. "And here I though you would be using your time wisely to sleep, I would."

Of all the things he could say, she didn't expect this. Amusement fought its way to the surface as she let out a soft snort. A minute passed before she felt his fingers tracing the skin on her feet, curious as to what he was doing, she lifted her head to gaze at him. But he was staring down at her feet instead. "You have rather small feet." Eragon stated. She waited for him to continue. "It's rather odd to realize that for a warrior such as yourself, you have a petite stature."

She tilted her head to stare at him, "I beg your pardon?"

He lifted his head to gaze at her with a faint grin, his brown eyes shining. A wave of emotions swept through her as she held his stare. "You may not see it, but I do. Though you are extraordinarily beautiful and slender, you are also a fearful warrior and dragon rider. It gives you an intimidating aura. As well as a deceptive appearance."

"I see," said Arya as she let his explanation run through her mind.

He nodded, before bringing up his own feet which were by far larger than hers for he was of a taller build and height. "I would say my feet are twice the size of yours." He said placing his left foot beside her right and his right beside her left.

She laughed lightly at his statement and reached down to trace an elegant finger over the skin of his feet. His toes wiggled in response to her touch and he swatted her hand away lightly, "That tickles."

"An odd place to feel ticklish."

"I merely have sensitive feet,"

"Hmm…" Arya stopped, facing him again. "Have you finished with your duties?"

He made an apologetic face, slightly contrite and slightly annoyed, "Rosalie has agreed to help me and I couldn't stand the smell of the carnage anymore. I never realized that my nose was quite that sensitive until I had to carry corpses here and there either to burn or to bury. It's grueling work."

"That it is,"

His expression softened somewhat as he reached out to grip one of her hands in his, "I heard from Eridor about what has transpired between you and Queen Islanzadi. I apologize." She would have been glad if he didn't bring up the subject but he did and there was no use in avoiding it.

"There is nothing for you to apologize for Eragon," she sighed tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It was my decision to make."

"Still, I did not wish for our union to upset your mother," he said as he rubbed the pad of his thumb across the skin of her hand.

"It was bound to happen," said Arya accepting the inevitable, "My mother has always thought that she knew best what I should do in life but I'd refused to acknowledge her counsel for I believe that it is I who know best to live my life."

"As it should be."

"If only it was," she frowned when Eragon released her hand to stand. Following his movements with her eyes, she watched as he slightly stretched before moving to sit beside her instead of before her on her cot. She raised a brow at his slight change in position. "How is that any different than sitting before me?"

"There's a difference, though I enjoy admiring your beauty," he reached forward with his hand bringing her face to him. "I can't reach you as easily." With that said; he bent in and kissed her. She willingly obliged, the last remnants of her argument with her mother slowly fading from her mind as she focused on the pressure Eragon's lips was creating on her own, a warm heat suffusing her body. Letting her hand glide up his arm, his shoulder, and his neck she gently intertwined her fingers in his chestnut hair, keeping him in place as she moved forward slightly.

Almost accidentally, she found herself sitting on his lap with his arm curled around her back. It was an intimate position but after all of the bloodshed recently, she didn't mind for she desired such contact. His other hand rested lightly on her leather clothed knee, content where it was. Though it was Eragon who initiated the kiss, she craved it. With her tongue she pried open his lips and glided her tongue over his teeth and mouth, tasting him like she often did in their time alone when they could manage it. His response to her heated action was just as passionate as his tongue darted out to meet hers. This was a battle different from the one that they had recently fought but just as fierce and passionate. They would break apart for air and then either with a tug of her hand or a pull of his; they would come back together again. Never before in her life had she felt such an intense desire to be with someone, to taste them, and touch them. _How dare her mother tell her she was wrong in choosing Eragon. _She thought in the recess of her mind but that thought was soon forgotten when Eragon tilted his head slightly allowing her more access to explore his mouth. After a moment, he pulled away from her and she instinctively gasped missing his warmth. Instead he lowered his lips to the base of her neck. She tilted her head back slightly into Eragon's hand that had reached up to cup the back of her head. His tongue lavished his attention on the soft skin there and when his tongue wasn't busy tasting her skin, his teeth was nibbling on it. And it was during this time period that she allowed herself to fully let go of all pretense. When a low sound escaped her lips that was akin to a moan, normally she would never let a sound like that escape but it seemed to send a jolt through Eragon for he would shiver pleasantly when he heard the sound.

Letting him continue to devote his attention to her neck she let herself be lost in his touch and kisses. Much later with Eragon sprawled out on top of her, their lips moving over one another, did she pull away. Trying to sort out her muddled thoughts, she took in a deep breath to calm her racing heart. She heard Eragon let out a breath above her as he bent down to rest his head on her shoulder. Her fingers which was curled in his hair gently messaged his scalp. He murmured something but it was muffled by his head pressed against her shoulder.

Her mind slightly cleared, her question came out somewhat breathy, "What was that Eragon?"

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers. "You smell wonderful."

She laughed at his odd statement, "As do you."

"Really?" Curiosity was evident on his expression as he gazed down at her. "I never thought I did."

She nodded and lifted her head slightly to breathe in his scent. "You do."

"At least I know that I do not reek like most do,"

"If you were to reek of sweat and filth, I would not allow you into such a position." Arya said lightly. He glanced down at her with amusement.

"You aren't needed elsewhere are you?"

She blinked taking a moment to process his question before she shook her head, "Not that I know of. And you?"

"Trianna and Du Vrangr Gata can do without me for a day, after all they've led themselves without my leadership before."

Arya nodded, as she brought Eragon's head down towards hers, her lips parting over his as she whispered, "Yes, Trianna can do without you for a day." He murmured a reply but her hearing, as enhanced as it was, lost the words in their passionate kiss.

Returning her attention to Eragon, she felt a sense of happiness wash over her that she had felt scarcely in her life since she'd left Ellesmera and the lush trees of Du Weldenvarden as ambassador to her mother. And then when Faolin and Glenwing had fallen from Durza's ambush, she had thought she could never feel happiness again. But Eragon had brought her happiness. Smiling against his lips, she fought his tongue for control in their intimate battle all the while her heart rapidly beating in her chest, both light and heavy at the same time. This was happiness.

**I hope you all liked this chapter. As always when it comes to Arya and her mother, I always have to use my best guess on their characters to portray their interactions as close to CP as I can get. But it was a good chapter and a fun one to write. Anyways, Happy Early New Years again everyone! See you next chapter and maybe next year! **


	45. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

**Ah well, tomorrow is my dads' birthday and I've been feeling really happy lately with all of the birthdays and the holiday cheers. So might as well upload this filler chapter (it has some CP in it and I always cringe everytime I have to use some of CP's work. This chapter and the next one will have his works in it before I can start building up the plot even more so). Anyways, I went shopping with my other three sisters for a gift for my dad and we've all decided to buy him a separate gift before chipping in for a shared one. Not everyone turns 62 years old twice! (lol). So it's been a big family thing. I mean my nephews are all coming over so this is going to be a very LOUD holiday...Anyways, Happy Reading! (Oh, I'm sorry about the confusion of my last A/N. I just meant I might not update another chapter before the New Years, not that I'm abandoning this story after I've gotten so far with it. So rest at ease!) **

Lacing up his boots, Eragon rolled his shoulders lightly trying to work out the stiffness in his shoulders. It had been almost a week since the massive battle on the Burning Plains and already, Nasuada had managed to move the Varden's camp several leagues down the Jiet River. But she didn't dare move them any further without Murtagh's presence. His half brother and his cousin Roran were still within the Empire's borders no doubt at Helgrind ready to rescue Roran's betrothed.

Standing, he strapped his only sword onto his left hip. Though the other was broken in his fight with Jeremiah, he did not mind for he could also fight with one sword. Lately ever since the battle, his right eye had been feeling rather odd as well as his heart. And he always felt restless as if there was a noise beside him that wouldn't go out. No matter how much time he spent flying with Saphira, carrying out orders for Nasuada, or spending time with Arya, he could do nothing to stop it.

And it made him slightly uneasy. Eragon moved the flap to his tent back squinting as the bright sunlight made him squint his eyes. After adjusting to it, he turned to find Saphira still curled up and sleeping beside Eridor. He was sure that they two of them did more than just hunt game last night. Not bothering to disturb them, he made his way towards his mother's tent. As he rounded the corner to his parents' tent he was surprised to find that it was empty. _Where had everyone gone to? _

Frowning, he reached out with his mind to search for his servants it took a while until he found them. They were towards the outskirts of the Varden's camp. Veering towards his thoughts, he was surprised to come across the separate camp that the villagers of Carvahall had set up. Ever since he'd met Roran, he made no attempt to converse with the villagers. Today, however, that would no doubt change. Walking through their tents and camps, he ignored the stares of curiosity and distrust that he received and angled towards the faint sound of his mother's voice.

He found her and his father sitting amongst a group of villagers from Carvahall with Finny and Bard standing guard about the gathering and Rosalie hovering about his mother, ready to do what she asked. Finny was the first to see Eragon and as always a bright smile came to his features, "Lord Eragon!" he exclaimed, "Good morning."

"To you as well, Finny," he replied in kind as he neared, the villagers stopped talking at his appearance, and his mother with her swollen belly turned slightly in her seat. Her expression was bright despite the tiredness of her stature.

"Eragon," he smiled at his mother, glad to see her well. But as he did so, his eyes darted to Rosalie. She nodded her answer to his unasked question. Was his mother healthy and well? Put at ease, he walked forward and bent slightly to allow her to kiss his cheek in motherly affection. "Are you not busy with your duties?"

"I wanted to visit you before I leave for Nasuada's pavilion," said Eragon ignoring the slight whisperings about them. "I trust that Rosalie and the others are taking good care of you, mother?"

"That they are," she smiled. "But you already know that don't you?"

"I do," he agreed. He straightened. "Seeing as you are well, I can leave to attend to my duties."

She frowned but nodded. "Will you come by later for dinner?"

"Of course," he gave her another smile, glad to be able to speak to her freely and without barriers. It was a heartwarming experience. As he turned he nodded to his father who tentatively smiled at him. It was slowly progressing; his relationship with his father, but it was better than he had hoped. Now, he could speak and dine with him without avoiding his eyes contact most of the time. Feeling at ease, he turned and began to walk towards Nasuada's pavilion.

It took him barely twenty minutes to make it there with his quick strides. For some reason, lately he'd been worried for his mother for her pregnancy seemed to be approaching its end. Or that was what he thought. He was not surprised to find outside Nasuada's tent, six of her guards that composed the Nighthawks. Two members of each race, Urgal, dwarf, and human and though they were assigned the duty to guard Nasuada, he could tell that the presence of the Urgal created some hostilities amongst the four others.

He stopped before the tent, sensing Nasuada as well as a few others already gathered inside. One of the guards, a human stepped forward to address him, his expression one of respect and admiration. "Hail Shadeslayer!" he said with a salute, "May I as inquire to your visit?"

"Lady Nasuada has asked for me to visit her once morning has come and I've come as asked," said Eragon, not minding the procedures to enter her command tent. The warrior nodded, relaying the message to Nasuada and after her approval, he was granted entrance.

Striding forward, he swiftly pushed the flap to the tent aside and was surprised to find Nasuada speaking rather calmly though he could see that she was clearly irritated to a tall, high-nosed, black-skinned man. He was dressed to show his wealth. For on his forearms were gold bangles, a breastplate of armored gold covered his chest, and long, thick chains of gold hung around his neck, disks of white gold stretched the lobes of his ears, and upon the top of his head rested a resplendent gold crown. His men were garbed in the same manner.

Eragon moved forward, his left hand resting on the pommel of his only sword. Once Nasuada caught sight of him, relief seemed to ease her rigid stature. She beckoned him forward, when he stopped beside the tall, dark-skinned man, Eragon bowed to her before straightening. "My lady, I've come as you've asked," his eyes darted from Nasuada to her audience. "Am I interrupting a conference of yours?"

"No, not at all," She motioned to him, "Eragon this is warlord Fadawar. And Fadawar, this is Eragon Shadeslayer, my vassal, I'm sure you and your tribe have heard of him."

"That we have," Fadawar inclined his head to Eragon. Instead of bowing, Eragon murmured his greetings before making his way to stand at Nasuada's right hand. He could tell that Fadawar was displeased at his greeting while Nasuada was restraining a pleased smile.

"Now, let us continue our discussion, Fadawar," said Nasuada, her voice ringing with echoes of authority. Eragon kept his eyes trained on the tribesmen and Fadawar in case they were to make a foul move.

"I've asked you to aid the Varden and yet you refused and now you stand before me asking for boons and favors that not enough my highest commanders are privileged to. How then, do you intend to earn these rights? You cannot pay with warriors; your men already fight for me, whether in the Varden or in King Orrin's army. Be content with what you have, Warlord and do not seek more that is rightfully yours."

"You twist the truth to suit your own selfish goals. I seek what is rightfully ours! That is why I am here. You talk and you talk, yet your words are meaningless, for by your actions, you have betrayed us," Eragon frowned, his gripping on the pommel of his sword tightening as he caught onto what Fadawar was trying to breach. He caught Nasuada's eye, she shook her head slightly. His frown deepened but he did not move against the man or his tribesmen but stood and waited for her orders. "You admit we are your people. Then do you still follow our customs and worship our gods?"

He watched as Nasuada pondered the warlord's question before she nodded, her lips set into a thin line as if she'd eaten a distasteful fruit, "I do."

"Then I say that you are unfit to lead the Varden, and as is my right, I challenge you to the Trial of the Long Knives. If you are triumphant, we shall bow to you and never again question your authority. But if you lose, then you shall step aside, and I shall take your place as head of the Varden." Eragon narrowed his eyes as he beheld Fadawar. He had not expected another piece to enter the game that they played. How was Nasuada going to answer?

"Perhaps I am mistaken, but I thought it was tradition that whoever won assumed command of his rival's tribes, as well as his own. Is that not so?" she said, unable to help himself he let out a light chuckle at the expression of dismay that flashed across Fadawar's face.

"It is."

"Then I accept your challenge, with the understanding that should I win, your crown and scepter will be mine. Are we agreed?"

He scowled but agreed and Eragon watched as the two prepared for the challenge. She had summoned her maid, Farica to help her out of her dress. After some reluctance on her maid's part, Nasuada soon stood almost naked in her white chemise before the warriors, who examined her slender body. Eragon frowned and feeling that it was his duty stepped forward to gain their attention instead. Nasuada's gratitude was not masked.

Soon enough the arrival of King Orrin, Jormundur, Trianna, and Naako and Ramusewa were announced and Nasuada's pavilion was filled with people. Too many for Eragon to feel comfortable, especially with his liege lord in such an open state.

As Nasuada explained the circumstance that she'd summoned them to the tent, the mood in the pavilion grew ever somber as Orrin was infuriated by her decision and Jormundur quite dismayed. Before they could start, however Eragon cleared his throat turning to Nasuada, his face set on her own, "My lady, may I not take your place in this trial? You are my liege lord and I do not feel that it is right for you to put yourself in harm's way."

King Orrin nodded, "Yes, it would not be as dangerous if Eragon were to accept the Trial of the Long Knives, Nasuada. As your vassal it is his duty to ensure our safety."

She shook her head, regarding Eragon with a determined expression, "No, I shall participate and I alone for it is tradition. You as well as everyone else gathered here today shall bear witness."

He bowed his head, stepping back but remaining close to her right hand, "I shall bear witness, my lady."

It was a barbaric tradition, Eragon thought as he stood listening to the drums of Fadawar's warriors as both Nasuada and the warlord gripped their knives, holding it steady before their forearms. Fadawar was the first to slice his arm open, blood spilling out from the cut. Almost immediately, Eragon felt sick, his right eye burning. He blinked, lightly shaking his head to rid himself of the feeling. Then Nasuada split the skin on her arm, her own blood dripping to the ground. His heat began to beat in rhythm to the drums, his skin crawling. Another slash across skin and more blood. His node was filled with the scent of the crimson liquid.

_Slash._

_Drip. _

_Slash. _

_Drip. _

_Slash. Drip. Slash. Drip. Slash. Drip. _

By the fifth cut, pools of blood was gathered at the feet of Nasuada and Fadawar. If the bleeding were to continue either both or one of them would die from blood lost. He was sure of it. But he was having his own trouble. His body wanted to reached forward and wield the knives, to cut through flesh, to taste the blood. The thirst of his blood lust made his body burn so fiercely it felt as if he was on fire. It felt as if his mind was stifled by a blanket and his heart beating so fast it was about to give out. His hand that gripped the pommel of his sword tightened as Fadawar made his sixth cut. He watched as a new stream of blood transverse the length of his dark-skinned arm before adding to the pool of blood he stood in.

Nasuada regarded Fadawar with a half-crazed, half-delusional expression as she added one—two—more cuts to her own making it a total of seven cuts. His arm subconsciously pulled his sword a few inches from its sheath but it went unnoticed for everyone was focusing intently on Nasuada and Fadawar. He could kill them all with mere seconds. Not one would be able to cry out for help. Eyes dilated in as he regarded the pools of crimson on the pavilion ground and the smell of blood in the air, he was about to draw his sword before Fadawar cried out, "I submit!"

The drums stopped.

Almost immediately, Eragon came to himself. Slightly panting, he slid his sword back fully into its sheath, feeling a sheen of sweat cover his body, and his heart calm. What was that? He shook his head and instead turned his gaze to the trial before him. Nasuada had won. Trying to shake off the feeling of blood thirst, he approached Nasuada and guided her to her chair in which she sunk into, and from her expression he could tell that she was ready to faint from the pain of her cuts.

"My lady let me heal you of your wounds," said Eragon reaching for his magic in the recess of his mind.

She didn't open her eyes, but waited for Fadawar and his men to retreat before she spoke again, her tone one of determination. "No."

He frowned, as well as the others while Farica went to bandage her wound, before they bled anymore. "The Trial of Long Knives requires participants to allow their wounds to heal at their natural pace. Otherwise, we won't have experienced the full measure of pain the trial entails. If I violate the rule, Fadawar will be declared the victor."

Knowing that her mind was set, Eragon drew to his full height and turned to face the others, "I'm afraid we have to consent to my lady's term. Let us leave her in peace to recover from her wounds. It would do her harm otherwise if we were to pester her with our concerns and judgment." Trianna left without a word by now used to taking his orders while it was harder for King Orrin to comply. After a moment did the king finally turn tail to leave. Jormundur, however, insisted to stay by Nasuada's side and Eragon agreed worried for her welfare as he too took his leave ready to be gone of the pools of blood and the stench of it as it clung to the air in the pavilion.

He immediately returned to his own tent, washing his face with water, cursing as his hands shook. That had proved it, ever since the battle over the Burning Plains and him accepting the help of the spirit that resided in his body, the seal in his right eye began to grow weak, its magic broken. And the fact that he was constantly surrounded by bloodshed and pain now, it was losing its power as the spirit became stronger. He had almost killed Nasuada and the others. If it had continued, he growled angered with himself beyond words. _No! _He wasn't going to allow the thought to cross his mind. Falling onto his cot, he let his head fall in his hands. And he sat there ashamed of himself and his emotions during the Trial of the Long Knives. Hours passed and night fell then day rose. He didn't feel like him anymore and he was afraid…

_What is it little one? _Saphira's thoughts washed over him despite the fact that she was halfway across the camp. It was clear and lucid and filled with concern. _Shall I contact Arya?_

_No, she doesn't have to worry over me needlessly, _he sighed lifting his head as he ruffled his hair, suddenly feeling tired. _I don't know what to do anymore, Saphira. If this persists…what will happen to me? To you? _

_I do not know, Eragon. But we cannot give up hope, if the dragons could prolong your ailment, there must be another way to save you. _Her thoughts wavered before strengthening. _We must take your soul back from Jeremiah. _

_How? He's probably at Uru'baen already, and even then how am I supposed to retrieve my soul? Will the seal last that long? _A wave of sadness washed over him. He didn't want this to happen. He and Arya were mates, his relationship was his mother had bettered, and he was slowly opening up to his father. He didn't want to lose them. A pang of hurt filled his heart so vast that Saphira withdrew somewhat from his mind.

_I'm finally living for myself…and yet…_He was unable to continue that train of thought. Eventually Saphira reached out to him again when his emotions finally abated, leaving behind a dull ache. _Thorn and Murtagh are approaching from the northeast, Eragon. Will you come? _

With nothing else to do, he nodded, standing, _I shall. _

Leaving his tent again, he made in to direction that Saphira said, and no doubt as he neared the clearing that Nasuada had set aside for the dragons to land and take off. Nasuada was already there with Angela and Elva as well as others who came out to welcome Murtagh and Thorn back to the Varden. Eragon's eyes were focused north where he found Thorn descending thence. He appeared like a cluster of falling meteors from the heavens.

He made his way towards Nasuada stopping before her with a slight bow, glad to see that she was well. "I'm relieved to see that you are well, my lady. Though it saddens me to see that the price for your strength are these wounds," he gestured towards her bandaged arm.

"Thank you, Eragon," she bestowed upon him a smile. "Are you well, Eragon? You seem rather pale."

"I'm better than you," he turned feeling Arya's presence approaching. Indeed she was, she moved with a slinking, muscular grace that bespoke her skill with a blade, and also her supernatural strength. As always she was dressed in all black, Tamerlein on her hip, and a bow and quiver on her back. Her skin was the color of light honey, and from experience, it tasted much sweeter than honey.

She smiled at Eragon when she caught sight of him but it faltered somewhat. He frowned. Did he look that bad? Ever since her argument with her mother, he tried to lighten her burden by keeping most of his problems to himself. Arya gave stopped before him for a moment reaching up to caress his face, before kissing him lightly. Then she continued to Nasuada halting before her, Eragon following. Her presence always soothed his mind.

Arya gestured with on elegant finger at Nasuada's wounds. "As the poet Earne said, to place yourself in harm's way for the sake of your people and the country you love is the finest thing one can do. I have known every leader of the Varden, and they were all might men and women, and none so much as Ajihad. In this, though, I believe you have surpassed even him."

"You honor me, Arya, but I fear that if I burn so brightly, too few shall remember my father as he deserves."

"The deeds of the children are a testament of the upbringing they received from their parents. Burn like the Sun, Nasuada, for the brighter you burn, the more people there shall be who will respect Ajihad for teaching you how to bear the responsibilities of command at such a tender age."

Eragon smiled slightly, for he was younger than Nasuada. If she was at a tender age, he couldn't image the word to describe his own age. _Youngling? _Saphira supplied as she and Eridor landed on the clearing shaking the ground slightly.

_I wouldn't like to think of it as that, _Eragon thought.

Nasuada smiled and said, "A tender age? I'm a grown woman, by our reckoning."

Amusement gleamed in Arya's green eyes, "True. But if we judge by years, and not by wisdom, no human would be considered an adult among my kind. Except for Galbatorix, that is."

"And me," Angela chimed in. Eragon glanced at the herbalist, his curiosity piqued.

"Then how old are you? A century or two, old enough to be my great grandfather's grandfather?" asked Eragon with a slight smile. Angela frowned at him while Nasuada fought her own smile and Arya stared at him in humor. Elva was even humored.

"To think you would learn some manners by being Arya's mate," she said with narrowed eyes. "It seems that you have much to teach him," this she said to Arya.

The elf inclined her head, not refuting Angela's advice, "It would seem so."

Eragon raised a brow, "In what do I need to learn?"

"That the first thing you should always avoid when talking to women is their age!" said Angela indignantly. Eragon nodded, moving to stand behind Arya, he remembered vividly that she had clubbed Murtagh over the head with a mallard. Which was rather odd but amusing in its own right. He reached down and gently gripped her hand bending down slightly to inhale her scent.

Just then, he heard Elva murmur, "Murtagh's not on Thorn."

Alarm shot through him as he glanced upward at the ruby dragon that circled above them ready to land. "How do you know?" Nasuada asked, keeping her voice low.

"I cannot feel his discomfort, nor his fears. Roran is there, and a woman I guess is Katina. No one else."

Straightening, Nasuada turned to Eragon, "Clear the field, Eragon! Get everyone away from here before Thorn lands."

"Including Orrin, Narheim, and Garzhvog?"

She grimaced, "No, but allow no one else to remain. Hurry!"

Doing as he was told he left them and began shouting orders to the onlookers that had gathered in the clearing. It didn't take long for them to clear out despite their protests, some Eragon had to threaten to flog if they didn't take their leave. Once done, they converged upon Nasuada, questions on their lips.

Just as the last stragglers left the clearing, a torrent of air rushed across them as Thorn swooped to the ground, raking his wings to slow himself before alighting on his rear legs. He dropped to all fours, and a dull boom resounded across the camp. Unbuckling themselves from his saddle, Roran and Katrina quickly dismounted.

Eragon as well as the others studied Katrina, she was attractive enough but not what he would consider a great beauty. Standing next to Arya, her beauty paled in comparison. Then again, he was bias. Though he must admit, he admired the fact that she faced the sight of an eight and a half foot tall Urgal, and three dragons bearing down at her without so much as a flinch.

Roran bowed to Nasuada as well as King Orrin. "My Lady," he said, his face grew grave, "Your Majesty. If I may, this is my betrothed, Katrina." She curtsied to both of them.

Feeling a pressure against his mind, Eragon immediately recognized it as Arya's. Lowering his barriers, his eyes remained on the couple before him but his thoughts were diverted. He had rarely been in contact with Arya's mind, but it was strange and yet familiar. The eerie melody that floated through her thoughts entranced him and lyrics of her blood captivated him. _Is something wrong? _Eragon asked.

_I thought it would be best to tell you my plan before I carry it out. _

_Plan? _This time his eyes darted to meet Arya's before returning to Roran and Katrina.

_It is a reckless one, but much needed if we are to see Murtagh return to the Varden without harm. He may be a rider but he is wandering in the mist of the Empire where thousands hunt him, he is not safe, _she said.

_That may be true, but what is this plan that you speak of? Murtagh has no doubt left Helgrind and is venturing on his own. It would be nigh impossible to find him. Like a needle in a hay stack. _

_Even so…_She briefly and hurriedly explained her thought process to him. He frowned not agreeing with her on any grounds but knowing that they may indeed have to resort to it.

He shifted when Thorn spoke of Murtagh's decision to stay behind in the Empire. And instead of words, with their consent, he opted to show him his memory of the event. His reasons for staying Eragon thought were inadequate but he knew that it was not the entire truth. There must be another reason why he decided to leave Thorn to travel back to the Varden while he remained in Galbatorix's vast territory. He sighed, _then let us go with your plan, Arya. _

Arya knelt and began to unlace and retie the upright section of her boots. Holding one of the cords between her teeth, Arya said, "Thorn, where exactly was Murtagh when you touched his mind?"

_In the entrance to Helgrind. _

"And you have any idea what path he intended to follow?"

_He did not yet know himself. _

Springing to her feet, Arya unstrapped Tamerlein from her hip and retrieved her bow and quiver from her back before pressing her weapons into Eragon's open hands, as well as a brief kiss to his lips despite the audience that they had before them. _Good luck and travel swiftly, _Eragon said to her in the depths of his mind. "Then I shall have to look everywhere I can."

Like a deer, she bounded forward and ran across the clearing, her last thoughts reaching Eragon before she withdrew her mind, _I'll return with Murtagh. Do not worry. _She vanished among the tents as Eridor, who was kept out from her mind realized her intentions as she sped northward as fast and light as the wind itself.

He felt the dragons mind pierce his own and he could see everyone flinch as they too felt Eridor's thoughts weighing down on them, _Arya, no! _Letting out a roar, Eridor seemed ready to take flight after her, but Saphira as quick and strong as she was knocked him to the side with her tail. In response, the emerald dragon snapped at her, bearing his fangs. That was the first time he'd seen Eridor so upset, usually the emerald dragon held a calm composure as his rider did.

When he made to pounce on Saphira, she easily overpowered him, knocking him to the ground and holding him there with her paws until a low keen escaped him. Eragon felt his own sadness burst forth as he thought of Arya within Galbatorix's reach. Walking forward, he gently stroked Eridor's snout as the dragon snuffled in his anguish.

_We'll have to trust that Arya will return to us with Murtagh, Eridor, _Eragon said to the dragon in hopes to soothe him.

Eridor snuffled again causing Saphira to reach down and gently nuzzle his snout with hers. She would help him through his pain. His eyes darted back to where Arya had disappeared, feeling his loneliness return.

**I never told you how I sprained my hand did I? Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to say it. For all of my life I had never sprained or broken any bone in my body until that faithful day. And as you all know I was somewhat tipsy (lies, I was way over my head) and my sisters and I had decided to play a game of twister together. And being the idiots that we were despite the fact that we're all in college, I literally twisted my hand when I had to reach for one of the yellow dots. It was not a fun moment. But that's the story and now you all know. I'll see you next time! Maybe tomorrow or next year! **


	46. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

**I said I might not be able to update tonight but I guess I was wrong :p. All morning my family was getting the big party ready for my parents and for New Years. Everyones been in and out in frantic attitudes. You can't imagine the chaos that happened. It was a very painful ordeal. Especially when my eldest sister insisted that we all go polish ourselves up in a beauty parlor. I hate oil rubdowns. They are just so icky. Anyways, this chapter is slightly canon as well and the next chapter shall fully explain the full effect to Arya leaving...But I might hold back on that one since I've been updating none stop for the last week or since christmas to be exact. **

Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she passed a group of dirt covered soldiers who held such a foul stench of sweat and filth that she had to slow her pace to ease her own discomfort. She frowned, she had been traveling for two days now in search for Murtagh. And as much as she relied on her own instincts and her knowledge of Murtagh, she had to predict in which route he would take back to the Varden. And her guess wasn't far off for it put her in forty miles west of a small village called Eastcroft. From there she had reached out with her mind to the plants and animals and true enough she gleaned through the minds the presence of a rider.

Keeping to the road, she berated herself for not just simply traveling off of it. Groups of travelers increased by the numbers and most often she caught herself in the presence of soldiers and patrols. Tugging her hood lower to cover her face, she wished she didn't have to wear the forest green dress that she did. But after a rather unfortunate event with a pair of ox herders, who had blatantly questioned her leather clothing, she was forced into the dress.

_Eragon would no doubt laugh at me if he saw me now, _she thought with a slight hint of amusement. As she walked, she felt the urge to touch her face every now and then for the muscle was not in its norm position. Instead she had used magic to shift and alter her appearance into that of a human's and she had also rounded the tip of her ears. And though she may look human her beauty was still too noticeable and she did not want to attract the stares of males. It irked her to no end. Soon night began to fall and though she would've preferred to find a quiet place to rest outside of the village, the fact that a patrol was behind her forced her into the village which seemed prepared for a siege.

Moving through the village, she located the wayfarer's house. _Resting here will have to do and if fortune smiles upon me, Murtagh will no doubt be forced here. _The common room had a low ceiling with tar-stained timbers. Yellow candles light the room with layers of smoke while sand and rushes covered the floor. Her eyes scanned the room, a good sixty people filled it, the smell of their sweat irritating her slightly.

Arya searched for the mistress of the cavern, succeeding when she picked out a sturdy middle aged woman with her tied back in a bun, some strands falling from the arrangement. She approached her silently and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman did not seem startled but turned to face her, "May I help you?"

"I would like to rent a room for the night," reaching under her cloak, she pulled out a bag of crowns that she had taken from a group of unknowing soldiers when they weren't paying attention. And though she didn't like to partake in thievery, it was necessary. The woman, as Arya predicted obliged and produced an iron key in which she handed to her. She left but not before explaining to Arya the location of her rented room. Taking it, she tucked it away in her sleeved before finding a secluded corner to sit and wait, Murtagh would likely enter Eastcroft and if so, he would be forced to the wayfarer's house. She took a seat at a table pushed against a wall, it was out of the way and hopefully no one would bother her.

Her hope was sorely dismissed when a group of four drunkards, famers by the looks of it, spotted her. They sauntered over and greeted her, the alcohol in their breaths evident. She spared them a glance before returning to staring at the table before her. Two of them leaned on the wall on either side of her, cornering her in, one sat in a chair turned backwards grinning while the other placed his foot on the edge of the table, bending forward over his knee.

"What do we have here?" the largest one said, his voice low. "A lone woman?"

"No more," said Arya dryly. Though she had managed to shift her appearance, she was unable to disguise her voice. And it came out as lilting as music, which seem to further their interest in her. If worst came to worst, she might have to kill them if they made any unwanted advances. And that would be another misfortune.

"Let us keep you company," the one to her right said with a laugh as if the idea was humorous to him. Her eyes narrowed but they didn't see her displeasure at being addressed so for her face was covered with a hood.

She had always disliked being the presence of drunkards, especially when they were males and humans, for they seem to forget the code of mannerism and say the rudest and most offending things to her. Though when she first joined the Varden, many had approached her with sighs of affection and tried to woo her, within time they'd began to learn not to do so anymore. If only the same could be said for these men. They were big, beefy farmers with leathery necks and cheeks flushed with the fever of alcohol.

None came close to the fair features that Eragon had. He had a slim but powerful build, and she knew that he would stand taller than the men before her, if not by a few inches. Their hair was dirty and hoarse and from experience, she knew that her mate possessed soft chestnut hair. And though Eragon was not perfect in elven terms, Arya was content being with him and being surrounded by these farmers just reinforced the fact even more.

"Now, now, Alfred, let's not get carried away," said the one with his foot propped up on the edge of the table. "We wouldn't want to frighten our female companion."

Alfred just merely laughed again, "You can't help it that a man is needy, Thresh."

Thresh turned back to her, "So tell me, what is it that you are doing here in the wayfarer's house? It's uncommon to see a woman traveling without the company of her father, brother, or husband, especially in dark times such as this. Are you lost?"

She refrained from ignoring the men for it would only cause to anger them in their drunken state, the only thing she could do was entertain them with conversation and send them on their way. "Lost? None so much, I'm just merely traveling and happen to stumble upon Eastcroft when night fell. And this was the only place in which I can rest without fear of the dangers of the dark."

Arya felt distaste color her thoughts at her answer. She did not fear resting in nature, for she found it much more comforting than being in the village at the moment. "Traveling? Where to?" The man on her left questioned.

That she did not answer which didn't seem to bother them, instead they moved onto different topics. They spoke to her, gesturing carelessly as if to make themselves appear strong and proud in her presence. "With the Varden's appearance and those wretched riders, us farmers have lost our crops to the king's men. Honest farmers like us have a hard time in making good harvest before the winter comes," the man to her left, Lars she'd learned, said.

"Honest farmers? I do not think that honest farmers will wallow in their sorrow with the use of drinks and spirits. If you're worried about your livelihood, than you are merely wasting your time in a place such as this," said Arya. Her response angered them, for they scowled and swelled their chests, puffing themselves up like roosters. One of them shook a finger at her.

She ignored them. It seemed that her patience had worn thin with them. She couldn't find it in herself to continue speaking to them politely anymore. The man to her left suddenly reached down and hooked a finger underneath the edge of her hood, as if to toss it back. Quicker than what was natural, she gripped his wrist with her right hand, but then after a moment, released it and returned to her previous position. If she threw him off of her, it would be unseemly and they would no doubt suspect her strength. Her hood collapsed around her neck, revealing her features to the men.

They were stunned for lack of a better word. None had expected her beauty and she could tell from the wanton desire on their face that they were entranced like most men she came across. Their expressions reminded her of another's, causing a pleasant heat to suffuse her body, unknowingly to them. Suddenly, she felt a familiar consciousness touch hers; dealing the person a mental blow, she easily destroyed his concentration, _Murtagh! _

_Arya? _

Their eyes met for a moment before the crowd thickened again and hid him from her view. She stayed where she was, trusting that Murtagh would come to her. He did. When he emerged from the press to where she sat, the farmers about her looked at him askance. "You're awful rude, barging in on us uninvited-like. Best make yourself scarce, eh?"

He was dressed as Arya observed in clothing that wouldn't be spotted in a crowd. "It seems to me, gentlemen, that the lady would rather be left alone. Now, you wouldn't ignore the wishes of an honest woman, would you?"

She felt like snorting when she heard the word honest, for had it not been her who criticized the farmers and their own honesty? "An honest woman?" laughed Alfred. "No honest woman travels alone."

"Then let me set your concerns to rest, for I am her brother, and we are going to live with our uncle in Dras-Leona."

The four men exchanged uneasy glances. Three of them began to edge away from Arya to her pleasure. But there must always be one dissenter, it seemed. The largest of them planted himself before Murtagh and said, "I'm not sure I believe you, _friend. _You're just trying to drive us away so you can be with her yourself."

After a few more words, some more forceful than others did they finally saunter away towards the bar, though not without shooting some longing glances back her which she pointed ignored. Murtagh slipped behind the table to sit next to her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, barely moving his lips.

"Searching for you." He was surprised for he turned to her. She raised one curved eyebrow in response.

"Are you alone?"

"No longer. . . . Did you rent a bed for the night?" he shook his head. "Good. I already have a room. We can talk there."

They rose in unison, and she led him to the stairs at the back of the common room. The worn treads creaked under their feet as they climbed the stairs into a second story in which a single candle illuminated. As per the mistress's explanation, she let the way to the last door on the right, and unlocked the door with the iron key that was given to her. Waiting for Murtagh to cross the threshold, she closed and secured the door again.

She heard Murtagh murmur, "Brisingr," lighting an oil lamp on a low table to their right. But it did little in providing light for the room was still dark. It was a small room and the only other furnishing in it beside the table was the narrow bed with a single blanket thrown over the ticking. She went to put her small bag of supplies on the mattress. She unfastened her brooch and placed her traveling cloak on the bed, before turning to Murtagh. "Thorn said that you stayed behind to kill the last Ra'zac and to explore the rest of Helgrind. Is that the truth?"

"It's part of the truth."

"And what is the whole truth?"

"Promise me that you won't share what I'm about to tell you with anyone unless I give you my permission." She stared at him before consenting knowing that it was the only way for him to reveal to her his true reasoning.

"I promise," she said in the ancient language.

Then he told her about Sloan, why he decided not to bring him back to the Varden, and the curse he had laid upon the butcher, and the chance he had given Sloan to redeem himself and to regain his sight. He finally finished by saying, "Whatever happens, Roran and Katrina can never learn the Sloan is alive. If they do, there'll be no end of troubles."

Arya sat on the edge of the bed as he concluded his explanation, her eyes moving to the lamp and its jumping flames. For a long while, she didn't speak but contemplated what he had told her. Eventually she said, "You should have killed him."

"Maybe, but I couldn't."

"Just because you find your task distasteful is no reason to shirk it. You were a coward."

Her accusation seemed to cause him offense. And they argued if slightly, their stances of justice and morality until Arya found it pointless to continue. After moment, Murtagh gestured to the forest green dress that she wore. "Have you finally decided to abandon your shirt and trousers?"

She permitted a small smile to appear on her face, "Only for the duration of this trip. I've lived among the Varden for more years than I care to recall, yet I still forget how humans insist upon separating their women from their men. I never could bring myself to adopt your customs, even if I did not conduct myself entirely as an elf. Who was to say yea or nay to me? My mother? She was on the other side of Alagaesia." At the mention of her mother, she caught herself. The pain of their recent argument resurfacing in her mind. After a moment, she continued, "In any event, I had an unfortunate encounter with a pair of ox herders soon after I left the Varden, and I stole this dress directly afterward."

"It fits well."

"One advantage of being a spellcaster is that you never have to wait for a tailor."

He laughed, then asked, "What now?"

"Now we rest. Tomorrow, before the sun rises, we shall slip out of Eastcroft, and no one shall be the wiser."

After a short rest and the stars began to fade, it was time for her and Murtagh to leave Eastcroft. Together, they opened the window and jumped from the sill to the ground twelve feet below. As she fell, Arya grasped the skirt of her dress to keep it from billowing around her. Another reason why she detested dresses: they limited her actions. They landed inches apart and they set off running between the houses towards the palisade.

"People will wonder where were went," said Murtagh between strides. "Maybe we should have waited and left like normal travelers."

"It's riskier to stay. I paid for my room. That's all the innkeeper really cares about, not whether we snuck out early." They parted for a moment as they circumvented a decrepit wagon, and then she added, "The most important thing is to keep moving. If we linger, the king will surely find us." And she did not want to be faced with that situation, not from what he'd done to Eragon.

When they arrived at the outer wall, she ranged along it until she found a post that protruded somewhat. She wrapped her hands around it and pulled, testing the wood with her weight. To her satisfaction, the post swayed and rattled but it held. "You first," said Arya to Murtagh.

"Please, after you."

Why must human men always insist upon courtesy when it came to women? She tapped her bodice with a sigh of impatience. "A dress is somewhat breezier than a pair of leggings, Murtagh."

Heat flooded his cheeks as he caught her meaning and without a word gripped the post and began to climb with his hands and feet until he reached the top, stopping to balance himself on the tips of the sharp posts.

"Go on," whispered Arya.

"Not until you join me."

"Don't be so—"

"Watchman!" said Murtagh and pointed. She cursed inwardly and gripped the post, using only the strength of her arms to pull herself up. It would look ridiculous if she used her feet as she wore a dress. When she was close enough, Murtagh seized her right forearm and lifted her above the remained of the posts, setting her down next to him. There they remained until the watchmen continued on his rounds.

Without a word, the two of them dropped to the other side of the palisade and dashed away from Eastcroft, skirting the farms that surrounded the village. Five miles from the village when it became apparent that they were utterly alone, the two of them drew to a halt by a charred stump. Kneeling Arya scooped several handfuls of dirt from the ground in front of her, "Adurna risa," she said. She waited until water filled the cavity before she ended the spell before intoning the spell of scrying. Nasuada's face appeared upon the surface of the skill water. Arya greeted her as did Murtagh, but his held a hint of warmth and longing that hers lacked.

"Murtagh," she replied with the same warmth, bringing to mind Eragon's words. _I believe Murtagh and Nasuada may fancy one another. It certainly seems so, do you not agree? _She did as she watched them gaze upon one another. "You are safe, thank Gokukara. We were so worried."

"I'm sorry I upset you, but I had my reasons."

"You must explain them to me when you arrive."

"As you wish," he gestured to her bandages his face showing a frown, "How were you hurt? Did someone attack you? Why hasn't Eragon healed you?"

"I ordered him to leave me alone. And that I will explain to you when you arrive. Consider it trade secrets," To Arya, Nasuada said, "I'm impressed; you found him. I wasn't sure you could."

"Fortune smiled upon me."

"Perhaps but I tend to believe your skill was just as important as Fortune's generosity. How long until you rejoin us?"

"Two, three days, unless we encounter unforeseen difficulties."

They discussed communication practices until Murtagh had asked for Thorn which made Arya's heart ache for Eridor. She'd left him on a depressing note. In the back of her mind, she heard the anguished roar that he released as she sped away from the Varden. It had but her in a foul mood the first day of her trip but she had soon cast the thought aside. It wouldn't due to linger on the past. And when she returned to the Varden, she would ride with him for as long as he wanted. After Murtagh had spoke with Thorn indirectly did Arya speak.

"How is Eridor?" she asked the dark skinned leader.

Nasuada sighed, "Upset at your departure, but Saphira has handled that end rather well. Once he hears tide of your return, he shall no doubt be heartened."

Arya nodded, she'd guessed as much. Then Murtagh asked the question that was on her mind but she didn't voice, "Where is Eragon? Is he not with you?"

At his question, she seemed to grow more tired, "It is late and though he wished to stay with me to discuss further actions on the Varden's behalf, I ordered him to rest." Her eyes locked with Arya's. "He's been ill as of late."

"Ill?" Arya repeated, trying to retain her worry.

"Yes, it's been getting rather serious since you'd left, Arya. It pains him to wake in the morning and though he doesn't speak of it, his servants are more concerned for his welfare than he is. And from what I hear, he doesn't eat and sleep is hard for him to come by." Nasuada caught herself as if she'd said too much but it was enough for worry to flood through Arya. He was ill…can that mean his soul…It sounded like he had the same symptoms as he did when he was ill in Ellesmera. They had to hurry back to the Varden.

After Arya and Murtagh took their leave of Nasuada, Arya terminated the spell and stood, anxious to leave immediately for the Varden. With the back of her hand, she knocked the dirt from her dress.

"Let us be off," she said already moving. Her heart set on journeying swiftly back to the Varden.

They traveled for the greater part of early morning and well enough into the day until she allowed for a moment's respite. Murtagh didn't speak of his aches but she knew him well enough to know that his bones ached and his feet were like lead. He never ran like he did when he was with her. It was midafternoon the day after they had left Eastcroft when Arya sensed the patrol of fifteen soldiers ahead of them. They were nearing the border of Surda and it did not surprise her to find soldiers patrolling it; to prevent desertion she thought.

The land around them was flat and open, devoid of any cover. They would have to travel with their heads down and hope that the soldiers would disregard them. But when it came to being ignored or dismissed, both she and Murtagh had the bad misfortune of always being halted. When they were faced by the patrol, Murtagh had gripped the pommel of Zar'roc which was disguised as a traveling staff, wrapped in cloth. The two of them hurriedly smeared dirt on their palms to cover their gedwey ignasia. While Arya wrapped the skirt of her dress over her leggings.

The soldier who had ordered the patrol to a halt before Arya and Murtagh spoke again, "Let me see your faces." They both raised their heads, Arya's beauty and Murtagh's fair features startling them for a moment. She hid her distaste as she took in the sight of a man on a roan charger. He sported a rather enormous curly mustache that extended a good nine inches in either direction.

The other soldiers held spears pointed at Arya and Murtagh. So much dirt covered them, it was impossible to see the flames stitched on their tunics.

"Now then," said the man, is mustached wobbling, "Who are you? Where are you going? And what is your business in the king's lands?" Then he waved a hand, "No, don't bother answering. It doesn't matter. Nothing matter nowadays. The world is coming to an end, and we waste our days interrogating peasants." _Peasants? _How rude.

The man turned to Murtagh poking and prodding until they searched his bag in which they found his armor which was bestowed upon him by King Hrothgar. It was fine and beautiful but it lacked the grace that Eragon's held. After a few more bashing on Murtagh's behalf, did the man turn to her, "As for your lovely companion, there are other ways she can be of use to the Empire, eh? Now tie them up!"

As always, she felt irritation rise up within her at the suggestive tone he had implied. Why must she always come across the misfortune of being sneered at and desired after? Catching Murtagh's eyes, she blinked. He blinked in return, his grip on Zar'roc tightening. A second later, he pulled the ruby blade free, swinging it through the air severing the head of the man with the mustache from his body. Without waiting for a reaction, he jumped back, bringing his sword into an upward arch slicing the spears in half as they flew towards him. The instant he had brought forth Zar'roc, Arya bounded up the side of the horse nearest her, jumping from stirrup to saddle and with her supernatural strength killed the soldier by kicking him in the head, sending him flying thirty feet away. Then she jumped from saddle to saddle, killing them with her knees, her feet, and her hands with the ease that she was born with.

When the horses had scattered and only three remained, Arya grappled with two of them, who proved a bother as their fear of them put them into a reckless state. The third fled and was pursued by Murtagh. Sidestepping a jab to her side, she reached up with her hand to twist the neck of one of the soldiers she fought until she heard his spine snap. The one left standing let out a cry or terror as he watched his comrade fall. Turning to him, she stepped forward as he retreated, and as quick as can be, darted up to him and with a twist, kicked him in the gut, breaking his ribs. He flew ten yards away before he landed, motionless.

Glancing over the fallen soldiers, she found a tin of water on one of the soldiers and uncorked it, washing her hands and arms with the cool liquid. Murtagh came up beside her, Zar'roc sheathed, and he unharmed.

"How is it," asked Arya, "you could kill that man, but you could not bring yourself to lay a finger on Sloan?" She stood and faced him, her gaze frank.

He answered without feeling, "He was a threat. Sloan wasn't. Isn't it obvious?"

So obvious that she had overlooked the thought, "It ought to be, but it isn't…I am ashamed to be instructed in morality by one with so much less experience. Perhaps I have been too certain, too confident in my own choices."

"I feel like a murderer," said Murtagh as he gazed at the corpses. How different they were, Eragon and Murtagh. She was sure that if Eragon had been by her side as she fought, he would mercilessly dispose of the men without blinking. Killing did not seem to bother him.

"I understand how difficult it is," said Arya. She too did not enjoy killing. But it was a necessity in war, something that neither of them could avoid. They were Riders and it was either to kill or be killed. "Eventually, this war will end, and you will see that our duties encompass more than violence. The Riders were not just warriors; they were teachers, healers, and scholars."

His jaw muscles knotted for a moment, "Why are we fighting these men, Arya?"

"Because they stand between us and Galbatorix." It was that simple. Leaving Murtagh to consider the consequences, Arya stood and moved forward to pick up a spear. Though Murtagh had used Zar'roc to kill a few of them, the others she'd dispatched with just her hands, feet, and knees. It would not doubt draw nearby attention to how easily the soldiers were killed. She placed the tip under the chin of a slain soldier and thrust it into his skill. Murtagh sprang forward and pushed her away from the body.

"What are you doing?" he shouted.

Anger flashed across Arya's face as she beheld him, "I will forgive that only because you are distraught and not of your right mind. Think, Murtagh! It is too late in the day for anyone to be coddling you. Why is this necessary?"

"If we don't, the Empire will notice that most of the men were killed by hand."

At last, he was seeing reason. There was a wet squelch as she pulled the spear out of the body, tapping one end against Zar'roc. "I find this as repulsive as you do, so you might as well make yourself useful and help."

Murtagh nodded and unsheathed his ruby bladed sword and together they set out to make it appear as if a troop of ordinary warriors had killed the soldiers. It was grisly work, Arya admitted but it was necessary. Once done, she threw her spear aside without a second thought. "We should be off." She said as Murtagh repacked his armor. "The shadows lengthen, and someone else if bound to appear and raise a hue and cry when they discover this crow's feast."

That night, Arya sat staring the meager fire she had created while Murtagh ate to regain his energy. It was late and they would have to get an early start the next morning but neither of them made a move to retire. Arya sat at right angles to Murtagh, her legs pulled up, with her arms wrapped around them and her chin resting on her knees. The skirt of her dress spread outward, like the wind-battered petals of a flower. She was too worried thinking about Eragon's welfare to sleep. He was having trouble eating and sleeping…and she knew that it was serious for Eragon valued sleep more than gold and it usually came to her naturally without fail. It had been nearly two days since they'd left Eastcroft and she was sure that by midafternoon the next day they would reach the Varden.

That was right; he was pale when she'd left his nearly four days ago, as if he couldn't sleep. Her worry increased. There must be a way to save Eragon before he sunk into the madness of the spirit within him. But how? Where did she start? Who did she have to speak to? She refused to accept it as a futile mission. There was a way; she just had to look harder.

Murtagh shifted uneasily as howls filled the night silence.

"What's wrong?" asked Arya. "Is it the wolves? They shall not bother us, you know. They are teaching their pups how to hunt and they won't allow their younglings bear creatures who smell as strangely as we do."

"It's not the wolves out there," said Murtagh. "It's the wolves in here." He tapped the middle of his forehead.

She nodded understanding where it was that he was coming from. "It is always thus. The monsters of the mind are far worse than those that actually exist. Fear, doubt, and hate have hamstrung more people than beasts ever have."

"And love," Murtagh added.

"And love," she admitted, thinking of Eragon. "Also greed and jealousy and every other obsessive urge the sentient races are susceptible to."

"Does it bother you when you kill?"

His question offended her. Had he not learned anything during his stay in Ellesmera? Though it may have been a brief handful of months, it should have been enough for him to comprehend the nature of her people. Arya's eyes narrowed. "Neither I nor my people eat the flesh of animals because we cannot bear to hurt another creature to satisfy our hunger, and you have the effrontery to ask if killing disturbs us? Do you really understand so little of us that you believe we are coldhearted killers?"

"No, of course not. Do not take offense for that was not what I meant," he protested.

"Then say what you mean and do not give insult unless it is your intention."

"What I want to know is, how do you feel when you kill? How are you supposed to feel? Do you see the warriors you've slain staring back at you, as real as you are before me?"

She stared at the fire, before opting to tell Murtagh the time when she had first taken a life. It was nine months after she'd taken up her position as her mother's ambassador. And the Varden under Weldon during their march to Surda had encountered a band of Urgal. They were content on merely passing but the Urgals being overly fond of war decided otherwise. And that day was the first day in which she'd taken a life. Though her blade was stained with black blood and the body that laid at her feet was that of an Urgal, she felt the sadness of the loss of life. It had haunted her for weeks on end, knowing that she'd committed nature's greatest violations and killed another.

"How did you come to terms with what you had done?"

"I examined my reasons for killing to determine if they were just. Satisfied they were, I asked myself if our cause was important enough to continue supporting it, even though it would probably require me to kill again. Then I decided that whenever I think of the dead, I would picture myself in the gardens of Tialdari Hall."

"Did it work?"

"It did. The only antidote for the corrosive poison of violence is finding peace within yourself. It's a difficult cure to obtain, but well worth the effort." She paused then added, "Breathing helps too."

"Breathing?"

She nodded. Murtagh had soon followed her advice and calming himself and his mind. Eventually he gave her his thanks. Then he spoke again, "I'm weak compared to Eragon, aren't I? Even if I'm his elder brother." She didn't speak but wait for him to continue. "Killing has never seemed to bother him. I've seen him snapped a man's neck with his feet or slice another into quarters. But he'd never so much as blink."

"It's because he's had more time to acquaint himself with the practice," said Arya softly as she too had thought of Eragon's demeanor in battle. He changed from one of stoicism to a ruthless warrior. "Or rather, he had to learn to kill without mercy."

Murtagh nodded again, then like Eragon had back in Ellesmera, Murtagh had stumbled across her shadows as he asked about her tortures at Gil'ead. "You never talk about it. You can recount the facts of your imprisonment readily enough, but you never mention what it was like for you. Not how you feel about it now."

"Pain is pain," she said. "It needs no description."

"True, but ignoring it can cause more harm than the original injury, at least on the inside," said Murtagh.

"Why do you assume that I have not already confided in someone?"

"Who?"

"Does it matter? Ajihad, my mother, a friend in Ellesmera. . . Eragon."

Murtagh nodded and decided not to pursue the matter, before he addressed another topic. "It must be nice to have someone to share your burdens." She glanced at Murtagh, slightly confused at his statement.

"You have Thorn."

"No, I mean a mate or a betrothed or a wife. . ." Murtagh trailed off, seemingly embarrassed by his words. It was nice, she thought. Reaching down, she began to tear blades of grass from the ground as her hands itching to do something. "Though the bond of a rider and their dragon may be deep and eternal, there are some areas in which another has to fill. Whether it is a mate or a wife. I just wished. . ." He stopped again, embarrassed as his cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

Arya nodded, "I understand, only as a Rider, you must choose who it is that you wish to devote your heart to. It is not a simple task as picking a piece of jewelry and wearing it. No. It requires a bond of unbreakable trust and a deep friendship as well as strong affection," said Arya as she wove the pieces of grass into the object on her mind. "But you being a dragon rider as well as a part of the dwarves' clan must understand that whoever you choose will affect your relationship to those around you as well as your own reputation."

"You chose Eragon," Murtagh pointed out.

Arya nodded, "I did for I felt all of those feelings that I had described to you earlier. I understood the consequences in taking him for a mate. And I do not regret it in the slightest, for I understand him and where he comes from. And he for me. Know this Murtagh, always guard your heart from temptation and entrust it to one who you know will stand with you even if the world does not."

With a pleased expression she held out her palms showing a beautiful ship woven out of grass.

"It's beautiful," Murtagh said.

Leaning forward, she murmured, "Flauga." The ship rose from her hands and sailed around the fire before gathering speed and gilding off into the night sky.

"How far will it go?"

"Forever," she answered, "As long as there is a source of energy from it to draw from whether animal or plants, it will continue to stay aloft. Flying towards the ends of Alagaesia maybe."

There was a lapse in their conversation before Murtagh spoke again. "Why did you come for me? I'm capable of taking care of myself you know."

Arya turned to stare at him. She had known that he would eventually ask that question and she knew her own answer to it well enough. "If I hadn't come after you then Eragon would. And he's in no state to be wandering about the Empire. You are his brother and though elves do not marry when taking a mate, I've come to acknowledge you as family in that aspect."

"Eragon come after me?" he snorted. "I don't think that would ever happen. At best, he _tolerates_ me."

She regarded him for a moment, "I do not think so. You may be half brothers but you are still his family. It is difficult, I assume, for Eragon to interact with others for he has grown up in an environment in which self survival is key. While you grew up with the love of family and friends. Barriers such as those are hard to overcome, do you not agree?"

He nodded and they sat there in silence as the branches in the fire burned. Then she felt it in the sudden wind that had decided to buffet them. Immediately she went to put out the fire as Murtagh crouched alerted. "What is it?" he asked.

She stood in a half crouch alert, her eyes surveying the darkness about them. "We are being watched. Whatever happens, don't use magic or you may get us killed." She didn't fancy the thought of dying. Not yet.

"Who—"

"Shh."

In the distance a cluster of lights approached them, floating through the air not of this world. A crackling nimbus surrounded each orb, pulsing with energy. Her eyes counted two dozen spirits headed towards them. That was too great a number for her and Murtagh to overcome if the need arises. First a patrol and now spirits. They seemed to be a magnet for danger, Arya though wryly. She tasted metal as the spirit continued their approach and her hair stood on end to her slight annoyance. She did not flinch but instead lifted her arm and laid her hand upon the single orb that pulsed royal blue and verdant green. A radiant joy filled her like never before. It inquired to their use of magic and she explained it to them as well as Eragon, who had freed the spirits in Durza. Its reaction was one of immense gratitude which seem to fill her to the brim with happiness even more. Then it released her and drifted towards Murtagh. His expression was one of outright happiness when he touched it and when it rejoined its brethren, the spirits floated away in the direction of Surda.

She sat as Murtagh fell to his knees, blinking. "What were they?"

"Spirits."

He nodded, "What did you say to them?"

"It was curious as to why we had been using magic; that was what brought us to their attention. I explained, and I also explained that Eragon, your half-brother, was the one who freed the spirits trapped inside Durza. That seemed to please them a great deal," her hand came to rest on the ground, but instead she felt a cool metal. "Oh!" she said realizing what the spirit had left them. "They were indeed grateful. Naina!"

At her command a soft light illuminated the camp. The grass underneath them had turned into solid gold and to her surprise in the center of the camp where the fire used to be was a single white rose. The spirit must have seen how much the flower had meant to her and Eragon through her memories and decided to make one for her. Reaching forward to touch it, her eyes widened. Instead of the soft feathering touch of its petals, her fingers brushed the surface of platinum. Her eyes followed its stem which was of solid gold, and in the center sapphires and diamonds sparkled in the dim light.

"A golden rose!"

"And it is still alive," said Arya.

"No!" But the expression on his face soon became one of amazement as he felt the life of the flower. "Amazing!"

"It truly is," she smiled slightly as she caressed the flower. Maybe once the war was over or when the Varden marched into the Empire, she would take Eragon to see the gifts the spirits had bestowed upon them in his honor. If, that was, the rose was not dug up by a horde of greedy fortune hunters. After a few more moments of admiration, Arya snapped her fingers, casting them into darkness as her werelight faded into oblivion. "We have talked the night away. It is time we rested. Dawn is fast approaching, and we must depart soon thereafter."

Hopefully, the golden rose would remain hidden from the world's knowledge long enough for her to show it to Eragon. He would no doubt enjoy seeing it.

**Painfully long chapter, I'm going to see if I can shorten them a little. But seeing as my story is going to diverge from CP's original soon, it probably won't happen anytime soon. Anyways, Happy New Years! In 3 more hours it will be 2012! Break our the wine bottles and light some fireworks people!**


	47. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

**It is 01/01/2012! And I've decided to post this chapter anyways. I didn't feel the need to with hold it from you all. And my god my story is getting really long. I hope I can finish it by the 75th chapter or so. But I'm just hoping. Anyways Happy Reading! **

Eragon heaved a breath as he stood from his cot. Though Arya had just left a day ago, it felt like a century since he'd last seen her. His body ached and he felt on the verge of collapsing from fever. But what ailed him most was the constant ache in his head that desired for the blood thirst of battle and the pain that it brought. The seal in his right eye was fading as the days went by and rapidly for he was constantly surrounded by pain and blood thirst, especially from the humans and dwarves towards the Urgals. He feared that one day he might lose control of himself and immerse himself in the blood shed the spirit desired so.

He wasn't going to hold it off anymore, he'd decided last night that he would enlist his servants' help. Tiredly reaching out for Rosalie's mind, he found her in the southern side of the Varden's camp with Angela. Immediately, the barriers to her mind lowered, _my lord. _

_Rosalie, _he tried to keep his thoughts together, _I need you and the others to come to my tent. _

_Now? _

_Yes, this is the best time; _he struggled for a moment, the spirit enticed by Rosalie's strong mind. _Please. _

_We shall be there, _Rosalie's response was solid for he had never used courteous words with her or any of his other servants. She must have realized the urgency of the situation at hand; he thought his mind tired and wary despite it only being morning. Saphira who was out hunting with Eridor to calm the upset dragon was too far to hear his conversation and Arya was nowhere to be seen, making this an opportune moment.

He wiped at his brow, feeling sweat accumulate on his face and he shivered again, though there was no chill. Barely fifteen minutes passed before the flap to his tent was pushed aside and his servants filed in. They stood before him, somber and ready, as if preparing to face battle. He glanced up at them. They had all served him for a good few years, Rosalie having been by his side the longest and he knew that what he would ask of them would cause them a tremendous amount of pain.

He gestured for them to sit, and they did each on a stool he had prepared for them while he sat on his cot. Taking a moment to observe them, Eragon felt a slight warmth envelope him as he thought of their unswerving loyalty the past years. His eyes landed on Rosalie first, she was dressed in clothing akin to a man. She wore a tunic clinched at the waist by a belt and instead of a skirt she wore leggings. It was a masculine look but she made it rather feminine. Beside her sat Desdemona, garbed the same way as Rosalie, she had forgone dresses since the battle and said that it made fighting too hard for her. And while Rosalie's hair was braided, Desdemona's flowed down her back pin straight. Bard was at attention where he sat beside Desdemona, his blond hair showing streaks from constantly being out in the sun, and Eragon could tell that he was sporting a stubble on his chin and cheeks. Beside him sat Finny, quiet and solemn unlike his usual energetic self. The two men were dressed accordingly, tunics and breeches. And as Eragon stared at them, he smiled slightly knowing that they seemed like ordinary people when they were the most unique one could ever find.

After a while, he spoke, murmuring words in the ancient language. "Atra nosu waise vardo fra eld hornya," he did not want anyone to chance upon what he was about to tell his servants. If anything, their expression grew more somber for they knew that what he wanted to say was not to be taken lightly.

He took a deep breath, before meeting their gaze with his, "Please forgive my sudden urgency, but there was a matter I wanted to discuss with you."

"My lord," it was Rosalie who spoke, "Perhaps this can wait? You're ill and need to rest."

He shook his head, "I'm not ill, not physically anyway," said Eragon, he wiped his hands on his cot, they were sweaty. "And this matter cannot wait any longer. Promise that you will not tell any else of what I shall tell you unless I give you my permission."

"We promise," they murmured in the ancient language. Eragon nodded, though he knew that they would babble about it in the first place. Their verbal promise put his mind at ease.

Rubbing his temple, he searched for a place to start. "I'm losing my mind," Eragon said eventually unable to speak of it with tact. But he was sure that they would prefer him to be blunt. "Everyday, I'm finding myself sinking into madness. I've been getting strong urges to rip asunder everything I set my eyes on, to drench myself in blood, and to kill needlessly. It's been growing harder and harder for me to resist temptation."

Their expressions were drawn in concern and they looked ready to bombard him with questions, but he held up his hand. Seeing it, they remained silent, allowing him to continue. "I should start from the beginning to help you all to understand," said Eragon. "When I hired you all into my service, I wasn't myself. I was half of who I am. I had only half a soul and half a heart at that time."

Confusion spread on Finny's expression. Bard looked ready to attack something. Desdemona was frowning, her hands clenched and Rosalie seemed to grow pale as if sick. "When Saphira had hatched for me, Galbatorix was able to take half of my soul and replace it with a spirit. And ever since, I had to visit Uru'baen to have enchantments cast on the spirit to keep it from rebelling."

"It's our fault," said Rosalie weakly. "We made you leave the Empire. That's why you're. . . "

She stopped unable to continue, but Eragon shook his head at their expressions of regret. "No, you all made the right choice. My mother is happy and reunited with Murtagh and Brom. Saphira is happy for she'd found a companion in Thorn and a mate in Eridor. I'm happy…though I may not show it. I don't regret leaving the Empire, not for a moment nor do I blame you all."

"Is there a cure?" Finny asked in a quiet voice that lacked his usual happiness and joy.

Eragon sighed, "The only way to cure me is to retrieve the other half of my soul and heart, but I do not delude myself in thinking that there is enough time for me to take it from Galbatorix."

"Then take our souls," he blinked when he heard the suggestion coming from Desdemona. He stared at her. "If it can save you, then I'll gladly give it, my lord."

"No," his lips drew into a thin line. "I would never do what Galbatorix did to me to any of you. I would rather die."

Though his statement seemed to touch them, it was far from comforting them of his fate. "Then what is it that you've called us here for my lord?" asked Rosalie, her green eyes bright. "It isn't merely to tell us about your condition, is it?"

She always was the brightest one out of them, Eragon thought as he glanced at her. Next to Desdemona that was. He coughed slightly feeling a shiver run down his spine. "I have a boon to ask of you all," Eragon said feeling a sudden depression settle over him as he thought of what he was about to ask and their reactions. "I cannot guarantee that I can control the spirit in my body any longer. And when I become completely engulfed in his madness, I would no doubt cause mayhem wherever I go." He stopped, taking in a deep breath.

The four of them waited patiently, not minding his sudden silence.

"When that happens," said Eragon ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. "I want you four to stop me." His eyes jumped from one to the other to judge their reaction.

Rosalie was staring at him as if he had died, her eyes wide and her lips parted like she was about to cry. Desdemona was trying to stop the shaking in her legs as she sat there. Bard held his head in his hands. And Finny's expression was one of grief, so strong that Eragon had to glance away. They had reacted just as he had expected.

"No, never!" Rosalie cried standing as her anger seemed to wash over her and she was unable to sit calmly anymore. "I could never lift my blade against you, my lord. Just as you can never take one of our souls."

"Yes, I would rather cut off my own hands before I do you any harm," agreed Desdemona but she didn't stand as did Rosalie but stared at him with her piercing violet eyes.

"You hired us to protect your mother," Bard was also standing his arms crossed as he scowled. "And we'd extended that protection to you. No one is going to attempt what it is that you are asking. Not I nor Rosalie, Desdemona, and Finny."

"If we did, Saphira would never forgive us. Lady Selena would fall ill from grief," said Finny quietly as he too stood, refusing to sit. "Lady Arya would be pained beyond anything."

Though he had thought of what the younger boy was saying, to hear it repeated made his heart ache considerably. He did not want to see his mother's reaction if she were to find out that he was going crazy. He did not want to think of Saphira's grief when she found out about his request. And he certainly did not want to think of Arya's own pain after they'd just found one another. "That's why I'm asking you four, because I know they will understand your actions for you've followed me diligently and they know that you would rather die for me than see to it that I fall in battle."

None of them replied but remained silent and resolute in their answers. "The four of you can do it; I know you can for when you work together. You are a force to be reckoned with and you're the only ones who I could ask this of. I know you will not begrudge me." He slid off of his cot and went on both knees before them. "Do this last favor for me…please."

He did not want to resort to this for he knew it would cause them an insurmountable amount of pain to see their lord before them in such a state. And he was right for hands tugged at him to stand but he refused. "Promise me, you will do it," said Eragon quietly.

They stared at him, their throats convulsing and the areas around their eyes tight. It was Rosalie who caved first, for she had known him the longest and understood the depth of what he was asking of them. "I promise," her lips trembled. "When the time comes, I promise to stop you, my lord."

"Rosalie!" exclaimed Bard. "You can't—"

"I don't want to!" she cried, her voice pained and then she began to cry. Her tears startled him, like it had when Arya had cried. He felt lost and didn't know what to do like he did now. "It's not fair to anyone but we can't let that demon in him to roam free with his body and tarnish his name."

Their resolve swayed at her panic and distress before Finny spoke, "I promise as well." And he too cried. Eragon glanced at Desdemona and Bard who were frozen trying to combat the situation. After a while they too promised him. Relieved, Eragon stood, Desdemona had turned her back to him to hide her own tears and Bard refused to cry, his eyes bright.

"Thank you," he whispered. "What you've promised me means much."

Rosalie hastily wiped at her tears, "I—" her voice trembled. She coughed before speaking again, this time stronger. "Angela needs me to go—to go and replace Lady Nasuada's bandages." She hurriedly left the tent as if unable to bear being in his presence anymore.

"I should go check on Lady Selena," said Desdemona refusing to turn and face him. She too left.

"I have to train the troops with Sir Brom," Bard soon followed, leaving Finny who was wiping his tears on the sleeves of his tunic, however short they were. Eragon observed, seeing how young he truly was at the moment.

"I'm going to go help build the battering rams," and with that he too had left.

Eragon watched them leave, feeling a sadness overwhelm him. He did not want to cause them any pain but it seemed inevitable for they were the only ones he could turn to. Sighing, he resumed sitting on his cot. How was Arya faring? He thought. He gripped his hand to keep it from trembling; he did not want to think of leaving her or Saphira and his mother. But it was a fate that he'd come to accept. He blinked feeling his eyes itch. That was right, Eragon thought as he heard Arya's voice echo in his mind.

_I understood then that the true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself; it's having to watch those you care about being hurt. _

He thought he had come to understand that reasoning too, but it wasn't until he saw the immense expressions of pain on his servants' faces did the thought finally hit home. He folded his hands together and brought it to his lips as he closed his eyes. Life was always too painful for him to bear at times.

As he sat there and thought, a sudden commotion in the north caught his attention. Eragon stood, feeling slightly better than he did when he woke and strapped his sword to his hip. Exiting his tent, he made for the direction in the north, nodding to those who hailed him on his way. What was causing such a ruckus? His acute hearing picked up on cheers and shouts. As he neared the direction, he could see Nasuada and Elva standing at the northern entrance of the camp beside her roan charger. His eyes narrowed, he could pick out Angela and Rosalie amongst them as well as her six guards.

And she was speaking it seemed to a dozen elves. _Those must be the spellcasters that Islanzadi had sent to guard Murtagh, _Eragon thought. He had declined the idea of being guarded and the Queen also thought that he as well as Arya was capable of fending for themselves. While Murtagh being unknowledgeable about most things needed the extra protection. As he approached, Elva turned to him with a questioning face as her eyes darted from Rosalie to him with slight distaste and great curiosity. The young girl, Eragon had come to realize, came to grow attached to his servant and she must have felt her pain at the moment.

Eragon came up behind Nasuada, "My lady," he murmured.

She turned to him; her eyes took in his pale countenance before she nodded. Eragon moved to stand at her right hand and Rosalie stepped to stand beside him, her eyes were clear but he could still see the redness of her tears from earlier. His frowned, displeased at himself. Nasuada turned back to the elves, and she spoke with the lead elf who resembled a wolf to his surprise. How odd. When Nasuada had asked for his compliance in allowing one of her men to read his mind, Eragon could see the displeasure the wolf-elf, Blodhgarm show in his bearings.

"For the most part, the trees of Du Weldenvarden have needles, not leaves. Test us if you must, but I warn you, whomever, you assign the task should take great care he does not delve too deeply into our minds, else he may find himself stripped of his reason. It is perilous for morals to wander among out thoughts; they can easily become lost and be unable to return to their bodies. Nor are our secrets available for general inspection."

Eragon understood that through Blodhgarm's polite warning that the elf would destroy anyone who ventured into forbidden territory. Nasuada turned to him, "Eragon, are you feeling well enough to do so?" she asked.

He was about to step forward before Rosalie gripped his arm, she stepping before him. "Allow me to do so, my lady. His lordship needs rest and truth be told, he should be resting."

Angela nodded her head in approval as did Nasuada. He glanced at Rosalie but she refused to stare at him and instead stepped forward towards the elf, who regarded her with an expression akin to interest. He would be surprised, Eragon thought, to realize that Rosalie was not like mortal women but she was as strong and swift as an elf despite her appearance. She closed her eyes and stood still before Blodhgarm as she searched through his mind. After a moment, she opened her eyes and turned to Nasuada with a slight smile, "He is indeed who he claims to be, my lady."

Pleased, Nasuada said, "Very well. Proceed." Rosalie stepped before each elf, searching their thoughts and proclaiming them to be who they were until she was done. Eragon watched her, it did not pain or harm Rosalie in any way when she searched the elves' minds, she did so like she was pouring tea or playing the harp, with ease. Done with the very last of them, she glided back to Eragon, taking her place behind him again. Eragon glanced down at her. Rosalie smiled to show that she was indeed unharmed. Satisfied, Eragon turned back to the proceedings.

He glanced towards Nasuada as she bent down to listen to what Elva had to say. Eragon frowned, why was that? He felt Rosalie nudge him slightly, beckoning with her fingers. He would have preferred for her to contact him using his mind but he feared that if anyone touched his consciousness in the state that it was they could seriously injure themselves. He bent slightly for her to whisper in his ear, "Do you smell his aroma?"

"No," he murmured back, barely moving his lips.

"It is most pleasant, or at least to those who can smell it which seems to be females," she whispered wryly. "Nasuada is attracted to his smell; it makes it hard for her to concentrate on diplomacy and politics at the moment."

His frown deepened as he regarded his liege lord who had regained her composure. "Why aren't you affected?"

"Because I have wards against magical influence and also, I find his aroma a bit too strong for my nose," she pulled away, subconsciously rubbing her nose as she did so. Eragon raised a brow but did not comment on it but instead returned his gaze to Nasuada and Blodhgarm. Then to his surprise the elves burst out into laughter at Nasuada's rather serious response. All around birds began to burst into song and the sound of the mirth seemed to make everyone else giddy. He continued to frown. Then when they fell silent, gloom began to set in over them all.

There were three roars overhead, causing Eragon to glance upwards; Saphira, Thorn, and Eridor were rapidly descending on the camp, their scales causing a mirage of colors to fall across the camp. From within the camp, Eragon saw King Orrin and his company riding towards them. It was going to be a rather messy situation. "Rosalie," Eragon murmured, tired.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Make sure that the women do not corner Blodhgarm for I'm afraid that they will tear him apart if what you speak is true."

"Of course," though her expression was still strained, she said her reply with a tint of humor.

The next day, Eragon had instituted a strict regime of training with his servants as the dragons watched on the side and beside them stood the elves also interested in watching. Though he was uncomfortable with their presence, he knew that they would prefer to stay by the dragons' side and it seemed to put them at ease.

He grunted when Rosalie had managed to slip through his defense while he was busy parrying a blow to the head by Finny. She brought the pommel of her sword to his chest and knocked him to the ground, dancing backwards as she did so. They were doing well, Eragon thought. Out of the five rounds they fought together, they had managed to defeat him three times.

_Is this really necessary? _Saphira asked from where she laid on the side of the training field. _Fighting four to one seems hardly fair. _

_I have to train to be a better fighter, _said Eragon with a grimace as he stood. _Sitting around on my behind will not help me accomplish anything. _

_You're already strong enough as it is, _she said.

_There is always room for perfection, _he grinned slightly, _you should give it a try, you look like you've gained some weight. _

She huffed, indignant at his statement, _it's only because Eridor insist that I eat enough for two dragons. If Arya handed you food that she'd cooked then you wouldn't turn it down. _She paused then added, _that's something you should learn. _

_What?_

_Never mention a woman's weight when you are speaking to them, it's plain rude. _

_I believe you are quite beautiful Saphira, _he said it sincerely which seemed to please her. She was, Eragon thought, rather vain. Even though she couldn't help it. Ever since he had enlisted his servants' help, he made a resolution to be out and about despite the feeling of illness he constantly harbored. And he didn't want to sadden Saphira by remained holed up in his tent forever.

In truth, the lessons he had with his servants wasn't to better his own skills but theirs. When the time came for them to…fulfill their promise to him, they had to be at their utmost. Rosalie glanced at him, "Are we to continue my lord?"

Eragon nodded. The four of them took their places. It was a good strategy, Eragon thought as he observed them. Bard stood behind them a fifty yards, he did not fight but instead guided them as they fought Eragon. Being a strategist, he maneuvered them into positions that benefited them the most and he provided them the extra energy in case they tired. Then Finny was the head of their attacks, he would charge Eragon and whatever opening he created, Rosalie and Desdemona would swoop in to take advantage of it.

Finny charged, prepared, Eragon easily retreated, flipping backwards. He saw Desdemona coming towards his right and twisted his leg. She brought up her sword to parry the attack but the strength of his kick send her skidding backwards. Rosalie slid underneath him mid flip, bringing up her elbow, he reached out and gripped her shoulders before flipping the opposite way. Landing on his feet, he turned in time to parry Rosalie's blow. She pulled back as Desdemona charged and it was an onslaught from the two women, their movements swift and powerful. Finny often accompanied them in their attacks but his brute strength if not applied correctly could do them harm. His heart pulsed in his chest and red clouded his mind.

Eragon stumbled allowing Rosalie's elbow to make contact with his chest sending him flying to the ground in a daze. A breath escaped him as bright red and purples spots blinked before his eyes. _Eragon, are you feeling unwell? _

_No, I was just distracted. _

_ Even so, it's time to call an end to this, you're injuring yourself with every practice, _said Saphira forcefully. _There's no need to continue. _

Rosalie and Desdemona's concerned faces hovered over him, he blinked again. "My lord," it was Desdemona who spoke. "You need to rest and eat, practicing when you're sleep deprived and hungry won't do you good."

"Yes, there's always tomorrow for us to continue and if it pleases you, will even practice with the elves," suggested Rosalie. Eragon nodded, before tiredly standing.

Rosalie and Desdemona had sheathed their swords. Eragon searched for his which Rosalie held out to him. He took it from her and sheathed it himself. "If you don't mind, Bard will gladly cook up something for you to eat."

He nodded, food sounded like a pleasant idea at the moment. When he gave them his consent, excitement coursed through them as they led him to his mother's tent where they wanted to throw a family dinner. After what they had promised him, it was the least he could do.

_I believe that the elves might know your father, Eragon. _

He turned to Saphira as she walked behind him, Eridor and Thorn following and behind them were the elves. _Is that so? _

_Yes, for all of them have fought in battles against the Forsworn during the fall of the Riders. They might have fought besides Brom for he was bent on revenge for his slain dragon. _

_You may be right in that aspect. _

_Of course I am right, _said Saphira as she swung her tail from side to side, hitting Eridor by accident in the snout. The dragon snapped at her but not threateningly. _Oops. _

Eragon chuckled at her as they walked through the tent and Rosalie had promised him, every female that seemed to linger over Blodhgarm's presence was sent in the opposite direction. _I've never seen so many females infatuated with one person, even if it is an elf. _

Saphira snorted, _if your mate was anything to go by, then you should've known that this would be the result with more of her people about. Do you not notice the stares the women receive? It is unnerving to see a whole battalion entranced by their beauty. _

_It is beyond my power if a warrior decides to approach any of the elven women, _said Eragon. _But if one dares to approach Arya…that is a different matter entirely. _

_Oh? Is this jealousy that I'm hearing from you Eragon? _

_No, merely a statement. _

_I find that hard to believe. _

_You would understand if there was another female competing for Eridor's attention. _

She sniffed, unperturbed by his statement. They rounded the corner and his parents' tent came into sight. Lounging outside like she often did with her feet propped up on a stool was his mother as she sat leisurely in a padded armchair. Her right hand was rubbing her swollen belly. His father sat beside her on a three legged stool reading a rather thick book.

They glanced up at their approach, his mother made to stand but Rosalie immediately said otherwise, "No my lady, you are in no condition to overexert yourself. Rest while we do the work."

"You all spoil me so," his mother said with a smile as she relaxed into her seat.

"On accounts of his lordship and from our own desire to see you relax and happy," said Desdemona as she snapped her fingers and with a quick word in the ancient language, the campfire came to life, crackling. "Bard prepare dinner, Finny set the table."

They nodded, bounding in every which way.

His father had closed the book he was reading and stood, surprise etched on his face as he saw Blodhgarm. The elf and his companions approached Brom seemingly at ease with him. To his surprise, they greeted him first. _They respect your father, _said Saphira. _After all, he had created the Varden, slew three of the Forsworn and managed to aggravate his enemies for the better part of the century. _

"It has been quite some time since we've last met Blodhgarm," said Brom with a slight smile.

"It has, you seem much better than we you'd departed for the Varden two decades ago," said Blodhgarm.

"Aye, that I am," he glanced at the other elves addressing all of them by name which impressed Eragon. He had not known that his father was highly respected amongst the elves before. It was just another thing he'd learned. "You are the spellcasters sent to guard Murtagh?" They nodded. "He will be in the best of hands, then."

"You honor us so," Eragon took a seat that Finny had prepared for him as Rosalie and Desdemona stood over his mother, worriedly checking her health and condition. Blodhgarm motioned to his mother, "Is she your wife?"

Eragon glanced at his father, he and his mother had never been properly married before which they did not seem to care for. After a moment, Brom nodded, gruffly saying, "Yes, she is my wife in every aspect of the word and more so."

"May we?" the elf was staring at Brom but Eragon could tell that the question was directed towards him. Eragon shrugged, he didn't mind his mother getting to meet the elves. They were, after all, going to guard one of her sons. He approached her, silently and gracefully, the sheen of fur on his body shining in the sunlight. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Selena. We've longed wanted to see the mother of two of our riders and the beloved of the bane of the Forsworn."

His mother regarded them with caution for a moment before bestowing upon them a smile, "The pleasure is well met, fair elf. May I ask for your name and your companions?"

"I am Blodhgarm," and as one the elves introduced themselves to his mother. They seemed, he thought, very cautious about his mother as to not disrupt her condition. The women had asked, very politely, to touch his mother's belly and often enough they whispered a few words in the ancient language to it as if sensing the child within her. They were as happy for his mother as she was which surprised him. But then again, elves praised children far more than anything else. And from what Arya had told him, very few children have been blessed to the elves as of late. Then a wave of confusion swept over him. If he and Arya did kill Galbatorix and lived long enough to see the building of a new order…would she want to have children?

Saphira who was connected to his thoughts began to laugh, the rumbles in her chest shaking the ground and often times she would release a jet of flames from her jaws. _A valid question indeed, little one. _

He ignored her teasing but the question confused him for a greater part of the time he waited for his servants to prepared dinner. And when they were done, another wave of confusion swept over him as they energetically invited the elves to the table. Well, more like forced them to sit and dine Eragon thought as the four of them shepherded everyone to the table. His mother was very enrapt by the elves and soon enough a polite but yet long conversation sprung up between his parents and the elves. They spoke of history, of magic, and of many other topics that he did not bother to listen for. Rosalie, being as smart as she was, had managed to start a word game with the elves that delighted them. She proved to be a rather formidable opponent for none could out speak her.

"You are very intelligent," said Blodhgarm after he managed to win a round.

She bestowed upon him a smile, "I would like to think of myself as intelligent," she poured Eragon a cup of tea. "But I manage; real brilliance is far from what I have to offer."

Eragon snorted as he took a sip of his favorite flavored tea, raspberry with a hint of honey. Rosalie blinked at him and turned to take a bite of a muffin before gesturing to one of the female elves. "If I am correct, it is your turn is it not, Invidia?"

She nodded and the game began anew. Eragon watched them not bothering to follow the word plays that involved oxymoron, paradoxes, and ironic twists. As he watched, his heart gave a loud thump in his chest causing him to blink in pain as his vision began to flash red. His grip on his fork tightened as he fought the urge to rip something with his hands.

His lapse did not go unnoticed by his servants. And though they were smiling politely with the elves, their eyes grew bright. The continued their conversations without pause but the slight change in their demeanor bespoke their true feelings.

**You know what? I'm excited to keeping posting up chapters because the more I post, the closer we'll get towards the end of my Rewrite. Then I can start on the other Eragon project that I'm working on. **


	48. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

**1,000 Reviews! I'm happy! But this chapter I have to say, I'm not happy with. I don't know but I feel a big annoyance of having to use CP's work sometimes. And thank god, this chapter shall show the divergence from his original works. And it will slowly take form of a plot all on its own. But I'm so thankful that it's over, now I can write this story and still have it move towards the ending that I want. **

It was midafternoon when he heard news of Arya's and Murtagh's return to the Varden, four days after she'd departed in search of his brother. Eridor and Thorn had promptly flown off to meet them, eager to reunite with their Riders. Saphira remained by his side as he sat and tried to study one of the few books that Arya had given to him. _Will you not go to meet her? I know you've missed her. _

_Of course you would know, _Eragon neatly folded the corner of the page he was on and closed the book, setting it on the table inside his tent. He stood and strapped his sword onto his waist. _Let us meet them then. _

The last three days, he had busied himself with sparring with his servants and in doing so, he'd often found an outlet for the bloodlust that plagued him. It didn't succeed all the time but a handful of times. Though he still felt ill and often times would find himself wandering an alien land in which the ocean was crimson red and the sky a pale gray.

Eragon climbed onto Saphira and with two powerful strokes of her wings, she was airborne. Flying also helped for it cleared his mind. Thorn and Eridor, he saw were already preparing to land in their zeal as they dived to the ground. _They must miss them greatly. _

_The bond a rider and their dragon shares is one of the mind and soul, it would be odd not for the two of them to be excited at their return, _said Saphira. _I know that if you were to leave me for some time I would miss you terribly. _

_And I you, _he felt guilt wash over him as he thought of what he had asked of from his servants. It ate him alive every time he thought about his favor. If there was a way for him to make it through without dying, he would find a way to make it up to Saphira.

_Hold on tight, _without warning Saphira leaned forward and like a spear dived from the air towards the ground, spinning and rotating all the while. He let out a yell, gripping one of her front spikes to keep from flying out of the saddle. Through his connection with Saphira, he could feel her immense pleasure at their flight and had to shake his head at her tactics. Saphira spread her wings and landed with a thunderous crash as she closed to the ground, jostling him slightly in his saddle. The patrol galloping towards Arya and Murtagh had bolted in the opposite direction at the sight and sound of Saphira.

_Warn me before you actually decide to take another plunge like that, _Eragon as he dismounted alighting on the ground.

_It's not like I was going to let you die, I would never be that careless. _

Again, her words caused a deep pang of guilt erupt in his chest. He knew that she would never let him die, even if that meant dying herself. The thought scared him to no end. He didn't have to contemplate it for long as Arya approached him. At least he thought she was Arya. Her features resembled Arya but her eyes were level and her ears round. She also wore a forest green dress to which he raised a brow.

Catching his gaze she smiled, lightly ruffling her skirt with the back of her left hand. "Though I said I did not like to wear dresses, I was forced to during my trip." Her voice was Arya's and he knew than that she was indeed his mate.

"It matches you," said Eragon with a slight smile, feeling his tiredness and bloodlust wash away at the sight of Arya.

"I'd anticipated that you would say as much," she said. Her eyes traveled from his head and down before returning as she took in his appearance. "You look very sickly, Eragon."

"I've only a slight chill," he waved it away dismissively. She regarded him with an unbelieving gaze but did not push the thought as Eragon reached out to embrace her. Her skin, was slightly dusted in sand. It was odd to imagine that before they'd returned to the Varden, he and Arya had never sought to be in an intimate relationship with one another, but now they were. When he made to pull away, Arya's hands came up to caress his face, feeling the hotness of his skin. Her curved eyebrows furrowed in a frown. "Really, it shall go away in a few days time."

Her eyes were a startling green as she regarded him before she nodded, reaching up to kiss him. "We'll see about it at a later time, Eragon." She murmured against his lips.

Pulling away from her he turned to Murtagh, "It's good to see you are safe and unharmed, Murtagh," said Eragon. "It is good to know that you've rid Alagaesia of those wretched creatures."

"They were hardly the effort seeing as there was only four of them to defeat. It would take more than that to defeat Thorn and I," the red dragon opened his jaws a few inches before snapping them shut to emphasize his statement. "In any case, you honor me with your words, Eragon."

Eragon nodded, turning his head to see the patrol of warriors approaching, "It seems we have company," he said.

Arya nodded, "No doubt to escort us back to the Varden." She climbed onto Eridor with ease, the emerald dragon blinked his joy at her return undisguised. Eragon returned to his seat on Saphira's saddle. As a group of one, they as well as the patrol, advanced towards the sea of tents of the Varden. Eragon frowned when the congregation grew larger as more and more men joined in escorting back to the Varden. The sea of sounds made him blink. There were just too many people. His hand itched to grab his sword but he suppressed the feeling with great difficulty. Soon enough the twelve elves joined them, proclaiming their purpose and mission to Murtagh.

_It's too noisy, _he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to tune out the shouting. His ears felt ready to bleed and he thought he might go mad from the sounds that surrounded him. Maybe going to meet Arya wasn't the best ideas he had. But he missed her too much not to. He blinked again. Eventually the three of them had dismounted and Eragon remained close to Arya trying to balance the noise with her calming presence. It partially worked as the villagers from Carvahall soon joined in with the ruckus, congratulating and praising Murtagh.

_It aggravates you, doesn't it Eragon? _

He frowned, feeling sweat form on his hands as the familiar thirst to kill came back to him. He ignored the voice, but it persisted. _All of this noise, all of these people. Kill them and it will be silent. Kill them and you will achieve peace. _

_No. _

_Do not lie to yourself, you know as well as I do that violence arises from the emotions of others. If you were to destroy them you can bring about peace to Alagaesia. You can do it. _

_No. _

_Isn't that your purpose as a Rider? To bring peace to this land? Merely killing Galbatorix won't bring it. No, you have to see to it to silence all of those who seek power. Silence those who will bring about war for their own selfish ends. The Varden. The Urgals. The Dwarves. The Elves. Everyone. _

A soft hand gripped his. Eragon opened his eyes to find Arya staring at him with concern. He blinked again. Not saying anything, the two of them followed Murtagh to Nasuada's pavilion where she waited for them besides King Orrin and his nobles.

Eragon released Arya's hand and went to stand by Nasuada trying to block out all of the thoughts and the thoughts of the spirit in him. She delivered a brief speech which seemed to rouse the men and women even more as they cheered and stomped. They loved Nasuada, Eragon observed, more so than King Orrin. Nasuada was a leader who could inspire such loyalty and confidence, she was fit to be a Queen.

_If we win this war, she may take up the throne after Galbatorix,_ Eragon said to Saphira. _She can unite this land like no other. Not even King Orrin with his superior intellect can amass a crowd such as this so easily. _

_I've thought likewise. _

Once Murtagh gave a fumbling few words to the crowd and their cheers had subsided did they retreat to Nasuada's pavilion. There more questions waited as it was filled with people. It strained Eragon's mind significantly to play the role that was expected of him as Murtagh and Arya went about answering questions and sometimes he would find the attention diverted to him. He fought to remain calm and composed with the help of Saphira's thoughts and his connection to her. But when it seemed as if he could not bear it anymore, did Saphira with the other two dragons growl in warning. And soon enough the pavilion was emptied of guests leaving them with Nasuada, Orrin, Murtagh, and Arya.

He took a seat beside Arya, who had slipped her hand into his, as if sensing his distress. Throughout the telling of their adventures, Eragon felt himself drifting in and out of reality and his own mind. Sometimes he heard the song of birds while others it was either Arya or Murtagh who spoke. _Was this madness? Not being able to differentiate reality from fantasy? _He didn't understand how his mind could deteriorate so quickly in such a short span of time but it was unraveling at the ends.

Often times, when he found himself drifting, the pressure of Arya's hand would increase slightly or Saphira's own thoughts would ground him. Honestly, he could care less of the butcher Sloan that Murtagh couldn't bring himself to kill. He would rather be sleeping than listening to his brother's struggle for justice and morality.

_What was right? What was wrong? _Eragon moved his head slightly as his thoughts began to wander again. _Was Killing justified? How does one justify it? You take one's life and you live your own. How cruel. _

Without reason a small chuckle escaped him, the sound unlike him. It seemed to startle the others. Eragon glanced at them, clearing his throat. "I apologize. I was merely thinking."

"Perhaps it is better if you rest, Eragon." Nasuada's gaze turned into one of concern. "You've not been yourself lately. It would do you more harm if you were to continue to strain your mind and body."

"I agree, we cannot have the person who we dictate our cause to do himself any self harm." Eragon turned to them for a moment before nodding.

"Then I shall take my leave." He stood, sparing Arya a second glance as he withdrew his hand and made for his tent. Saphira went to accompany him but he shook his head.

_I'll be fine, no need to worry Saphira._

She was reluctant to leave him but after much resistance on his part, she relented. _Go and rest then. _

_I will. _

Retiring to his tent, he found himself more than ready to sleep the day away. But his dream was strange as it had been as of late.

_He stood on water that stretched as far as he could see but for some reason his body was not submerged by the liquid. It felt as solid as any ground he had stood on. The water was a crystal blue, the same as the sky overhead in which wisps of clouds floated by. _

_He turned, about ten years away from was the white tomb that he often saw. It was chained shut but the metal looked like it was rusting away, corroded from an unknown source. Sitting atop the tomb was his shadow, his eyes narrowed, his expression cold. _

"_You cannot hold back my power anymore, Eragon," he spoke. "The seal in your right eye is broken and its magic is fading. You've chosen your own doom when you accepted my help fighting Jeremiah." _

"_It doesn't mean I can't prolong you." _

"_How? Even if you do, my bloodlust will eat away at your mind until your entire soul is consumed by me. Then you will be nothing more than someone akin to a shade." _

"_If I take my soul back from Jeremiah, I could survive." _

_His shadow laughed. "How will you do so? The moment I leave your body, you will slowly die. And even if you do manage to win back your soul. How will you reunite it with your body? With its other half? You've lived too long without it." _

_His shadow regarded him for a moment with a feral smile. "Let me ask you a question Eragon. Do you love Arya? Does it hurt you when you think about leaving her? Leaving Saphira?" _

"_What would you know?" _

"_Nothing really. I just find emotional attachment to others bothersome. You were better off as Gabranth, without the love from others." His shadow lifted a finger he made to do a gesture but stopped and lowered his hand. "Think, the closer you become to others the more your burdens increase." _

"_Even so, I don't care. I just want to be with them. You wouldn't understand, you don't have a great enough capacity to do so." Eragon said as he regarded him. _

"_You don't but they do. Once you succumb to my madness, what will they think once your servants see to it that they fulfill your wish?" his shadow asked. "A little selfish of you isn't it?" _

_Eragon didn't answer. The tomb on which his shadow sat atop made a sound. He turned to it to see a small crack running down its side. And leaking from the crack a drop of crimson liquid fell to the blue water it stood on. Once it hit the surface, the red drop diffused into the surrounding water, tinting it red. _

His eyes opened when he felt a soft hand stroke his cheeks, he found Arya hovering over him. Her features returned to normal, her eyes bright in the darkness. She was dressed in her regular leather. Feeling plagued by a fever, he reached out for her and tugged her towards him and into his arms. She did not resist him but her body tensed at the sudden action. Pulling her closer to him he moved slightly for her to lie on his cot without discomfort. Never had he desired another's company like Arya's. After everything that they'd gone through, having her by his side put him at ease even if it was for just a moment.

"Stay with me," he murmured tiredly unable to comprehend what he was saying. He just wanted her to be close to him. Though her hair was slightly damp from the bath she had taken earlier, he didn't mind in to slightest. His arms came to wrap themselves around her, pulling her close enough to him that he felt her breath on his hot skin. Her skin was cool from the bath she'd taken.

Eventually her muscles relaxed and she let him embrace her. Letting out a content sigh, he buried his nose into her hair. She whispered something, but he lost it as his mind returned to a more peaceful state of sleep rather than the waking dreams that he drifted in.

The loud sound of a curse woke him in a voice that belonged to Bard. He heard the shuffle of feet in the opposite direction. Blinking, his eyes were met with a sea of dark hair. _What? _It took him a moment to realize that sleeping in his embrace was Arya. Or she was sleeping. Her eyes were open, adjusting to the light as she turned her head to stare at him.

"Good morning," she whispered slightly with a smile.

"That it is," he glanced down at her trying to remember when she had come to him. After a few moments of struggling with his thoughts, did the memory surface to him. He felt embarrassed.

She didn't seem to notice but lightly stretched within the confines of his arms like a cat. "Bard seemed to have come to wake you."

"He ran in the opposite direction for some reason."

"One can only speculate why," Eragon withdrew his arms as she made to sit. He watched as she stood and walked over to his basin, pouring water from the canteen he had set there before washing her face. Then with a towel that he folded on his table did she dry her face. After a moment he sat, refusing to move for his body ached.

"Have you been ill as of late?" she had switched to the ancient language as she wet the towel in her hands. She made her way over to him and very gently began to wipe the sweat from his own face. Though he was not an invalid, he didn't mind her treatment.

"A little," he murmured in reply. In truth he was not physically ill but the mentality he suffered from the spirit gave him symptoms of an ill person. She gently wiped his eyelids.

"Is the spirit bothering you?"

"Not quite," she waited for him to speak as she brought the towel over the bridge of his nose. "My mind hasn't been in the right balance since the battle. I feel ill every time I smell blood or hear pain. It's been unpleasant."

She frowned, her hand stilling before she continued. "So that's why you've been unable to sleep and eat?"

"More or less. But I've been getting better as of late. There hasn't been anything to upset my mind and my illness is slowly fading away. You need not worry for me, Arya." he felt another pang of guilt at having to lie to Arya in a roundabout way. He sighed, tilting his head back to glance up at her, "I'm glad that you've returned."

"As am I."

"Have you met Blodhgarm and the other elves?"

"I have."

"What do you think of them?" He was curious as to her opinion and he wanted to move away from the topic of his illness for the moment. She thought for a moment. Eragon waited patiently knowing that if she were to deliver a serious judgment it would require her some thought and time. Then after a moment she answered him.

"They are the bravest and most powerful spellcasters amongst my people for they have fought in battles on grander scales than most and survived. Devoted they are to helping the dragons and our cause."

He thought as much. "They are very polite."

"Should they not be?"

He shrugged as Arya placed the towel on the table done with her task. But she didn't make to sit, instead she continued to stand before him, her hands resting on his shoulders. "Blodhgarm seems interested in Rosalie more so than normal."

"Does it bother you?"'

"I'm just curious as to why."

"I would assume that her origins and the fact that she can be compared to an elf seem to draw his attention." He nodded, he thought as much when he'd first met the elf.

"Do you think he has a wonderful aroma?" Eragon asked.

At his question, her lips twitched and her eyebrows rose. "Though it may be a good aroma, I am more partial to another's scent." To prove her point, she bent down to breathe in his scent. He smiled at her pleased by her response. She always seemed to know how to ease his mind.

"They know that you and I are mates?" Arya nodded. "Do they approve?"

Her lips curled into a frown and she gave him a look akin to disapproval. It had been a while since he'd seen that expression on her face, "Whether they approve or not does not matter for our union does not concern them."

"I know, I was just curious."

Arya nodded, her hands gently messaging his shoulders of their own accord. He watched as she thought for a moment before a smile made its way back onto her face, "There is a place I would like to show you once we invade the Empire." Eragon waited. "Murtagh and I found it and there is a gift awaiting you there."

"A gift?"

"Yes," she sat beside him. Eragon instinctively turned to her. Though he may be inexperienced in the areas of intimacy, lately his mind had instructed him in multiple ways on how to approach Arya. All of which seemed to work, so he took some comfort in his own natural instincts. He leaned forward to kiss her for a brief moment reminding himself of her exquisite taste before pulling away. Then she began to explain to him the spirits that came to her and Murtagh at night and the golden rose that was bestowed upon them out of their gratitude towards Eragon.

"When we get the chance, I would like to show it to you."

"And I would like to see it." In the back of his mind he felt sadness and guilt overwhelm him as he thought of the idea that he might not be able to accompany her when the time came. She smiled at him unaware of the pain that plagued him. He returned it hoping that he would not have to leave her. In his heart, he wanted to stay at her side until the ends of time.

**It's not that great is it? (Sigh) I've tried my best but at least we're at 1,000 reviews! Oh, and about the questions for lemons. They will surely and slowly start coming into play soon. But the first one shall not have Arya and Eragon getting at it. Because I just don't see Arya as the type to actually give in so soon. Eragon's going to have to work his way there (however wrong that sounds) But it'll be an interesting scene to write. I feel like I have a good enough grasp on Arya to portray her in that situation **


	49. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

**This chapter I'd planned to upload in a few more days but I've decided to give it to you all as a gift for making it to the 1,000 Review mark. I don't think I've ever been happier. But this is also to make up for my last chapter that I felt was very lacking. Anyways, I've put a lot of thought into writing this chapter because it plays out to the entire story one way or another. You know what though? I think my creative writing skills are actually paying off, that course wasn't usless after all. (I'm kidding, I'm actually writing my own book but I've gotten far into it seeing that I'm busy with this story. But it's looking pretty good!) Anyways, enjoy reading this chapter. **

Jumping backwards, Eragon twisted as he turned about to bring up his sword to deflect Desdemona's blow to his neck. If he wasn't fast enough she could have done serious harm to him. With a bit of elegant footsteps, Eragon jabbed her in her side watching as she stumbled backwards from the pain of the blow. Feeling Rosalie's presence behind him, he retreated with a jump, but he wasn't quick enough for she brought down her sword and it came into contact with his shins. He winced. Stumbling a bit as he backtracked, Eragon brought his free hand up grab a hold of Finny's arm as he charged towards him and threw the boy ten yards away, watching as he went careening through the ground. And though his fall was serious, he immediately sprung to his feet seconds later.

The sound of metal cutting the air made him turn as he brought up his sword to lock it at the hilt with Rosalie's and Desdemona's swords. For a moment they stood there struggling against one another until Eragon with his supernatural strength pushed them backwards. His achievement was short lived when he felt a bout of pain erupt in the back of his head.

Turning despite the daze he was in, he kicked Finny roughly in the stomach sending him flying backwards fifteen yards. The distraction gave Rosalie and Desdemona the due time to make it back to their feet and spring forward. They were getting better, Eragon thought, as he parried and countered their blows. For the past few days of sparring they were able to hold their own with great success.

Turning to let Rosalie's sword pass through the space in which he once stood, he grimaced in pain when he felt Desdemona's sword slash him across his chest. His heart gave an agonizing beat in his chest. And he saw the familiar tint of red color his vision. Feeling his arm move of its own accord, he watched as he struck down Rosalie with a resounding jut to the gut with his elbow. A pained cry escaped her lips as she fell to her knees.

_Stop. _Eragon blinked, staring down at Rosalie who coughed slightly a dark liquid covering her lips. He must have broken a rib. Bending down to help her, he grunted when he felt a log smash into the side of his face sending him tumbling into the ground. Sliding for a good ten feet, he blinked when he felt a warm liquid cover the side of his face. A few paces away from him he heard Desdemona berate Finny as she went to help her female companion.

Healing the cut on the side of his head, he moved into a sitting position. Eragon brought up a hand to wipe at the blood coating the side of his face. His heart gave another loud beat in his chest as he beheld the sticky crimson substance. A hand entered his field of vision; he glanced up to find that it was Murtagh.

Unease filled him, though he and Murtagh were both half-brothers, the best they did in each other's presence was breach a polite form of mannerism. He did not know how to act around Murtagh, nor Roran, or Brom for that matter. His strained relationship with them was a foreign matter to him entirely. He didn't pursue to better it like he did with his relationship with Arya, but kept it untouched. For he was sure that if he tried to better things between him and Murtagh or the others in his family, it would only work more to estrange them.

He ignored the hand and stood, dusting himself off before making his way towards his servants. "Why do you always do that?"

Eragon stopped, barely moving five paces before Murtagh spoke. He didn't turn to face his brother but instead remained facing forward. "Do what?"

"Ignore help?"

"It's none of your concerns."

Murtagh gave a snort, "I don't understand it. How come you're allowed to know the concerns of others and yet remain ignorant of help from those around you?"

Eragon turned to face him. What has brought on this sudden confrontation with Murtagh? In his heart, he felt a slight shard of hope. "What are you implying Murtagh?"

"The reason I'm alive is because you saved my life back in Gil'ead. You helped me to escape with Arya and the last egg. And you saved my life again when you came to my rescue in Farthen Dur knowing that it was Durza who was waiting for you." Murtagh said his mouth curved downwards. "And the reason Arya came after me while I was in the Empire was for you."

"Don't waste my time telling me things that I already know and get to the heart of the matter, Murtagh."

"Since you want honesty than I'll be blunt with you, _brother,_" Murtagh said with a set expression. "You've told me that you resent me because I grew up with the love of others and hidden away from Galbatorix and that Brom had overseen me. And I understand that it hurts to know that your father was caring for the son of his enemy. What I don't understand is how you're letting your one chance to be with him slip through your fingers. He isn't getting any younger and fairly, I think you're sinking into hypocrisy."

"_What?_" Eragon hissed, his eyes narrowing as Murtagh's words floated over to him.

"If my father was half the man that Brom was, I would be happy to love him unconditionally. To know that he was such a man, but my father isn't. My father was Morzan, a traitor to the Dragon Riders, a traitor to Alagaesia. I wish that I could have someone as Brom as my father, but I don't and I accept that fact. But if Brom was my father, I would treasure my time with him above all else." Murtagh said.

Eragon felt his face flush with anger; he had grown to tolerate Murtagh, even like him. Now, he felt as if he was staring into the face of an idiot. "Don't you dare criticize me. You don't have the right to, _Murtagh." _

"And why can't I?" Murtagh challenged. "I'm your older brother by birth right. What makes it impossible for me not to criticize you?"

He took a step closer to Murtagh, his face set into a scowl. Whatever his brother was trying to do was grating on his nerves. He was not in the mood to tolerate this. "The fact that I always have to watch out for you, your decisions are whimsical and you cause more blunders than achievements. The thing you don't understand is that you are totally helpless to others."

He knew that his statement would anger Murtagh, but he was still surprised when he felt a fist collide with his face sending him stumbling backwards. Almost immediately, his servants who stood by the side watching the ongoing sprang forward their weapons drawn ready to engage Murtagh. Anger flushing his body, he brought his own fist up to land his own blow at Murtagh.

Within a flash, the twelve elves guarding him appeared their own weapons drawn and then it was a stand off between Eragon and Murtagh. "Stand down!"Eragon growled to his servants. They hesitated unsure of his request.

"My lord—"

"Do as I say!" he turned to Murtagh a fierce expression on his face.

Murtagh glanced at his guards with a similar expression of anger. "I can handle this myself! I don't need your protection." When they didn't comply, he growled. "Don't interfere with family matters!"

After a moment they sheathed their weapons and went to stand on the side with Eragon's servants, the two groups ready to jump into help if their assistance was needed. Murtagh turned his head back to Eragon, his face flushed from anger. "I'll show you how helpless I am."

With that he yelled and launched himself at Eragon who stood his ground waiting for his brother to reach him. Dodging a fist to his head, he brought his own up in a right hook, slamming against Murtagh's face knocking his brother sideways. Not relenting, Eragon followed him, slamming his knee into his gut. Before he could do anymore, Murtagh gripped both of his arms and to Eragon's own astonishment slammed his head into his own. Pain erupted in his forehead as he stumbled backwards. Almost immediately Murtagh's own fist came into contact with his jaw sending him sprawling to the ground. "You may be a master at the swords but when it comes to fistfights I've years of experience!"

Eragon scowled as he rolled to the side a little, bringing up his feet to kick Murtagh in the hip, missing as his brother rolled after him, striking him in the gut with his elbow, he grunted. If it weren't for his sturdy body, his ribs would've no doubt cracked. Bringing up his knee, Eragon kneed him in the torso knocking the wind out of him. Gaining the upper hand, he stood on his feet as did Murtagh. Without allowing for him to regain his bearings, Eragon charged ramming him with his right shoulder into the ground.

It was a foolish thing to do, Eragon thought as they wrestled with one another, delivering blows that could easily kill any animal or human if it weren't for their wards or own strengths. It was needed, however. It seemed as if a test between the two of them, to see whether or not they could truly be brothers. To see whether or not they could really move past their differences.

He grunted as Murtagh had abandoned his grace and balance for a more reckless attempt. Eragon frowned meeting him halfway as they lunged for each other, the other refusing to back down. "You idiot! Why do you always complicate things?" Murtagh growled as he dodged a blow to the head from Eragon.

"Idiot? That is rich coming from the boy who barely knew his letters! You have no right to call me an idiot when you look and act like one!" Eragon replied letting out all of his pent up frustration as he dodge Murtagh's own blows. The frustration at having to live with a spirit in his body. Of lying to Arya and Saphira. Or tricking his own mother of his condition. Of asking the inevitable from his servants. Fighting with Murtagh was the only release he found.

"Me? You say you resented Brom when he cared for me in Carvahall. Well you don't see me resenting mother when she abandoned me to care for you in Uru'baen. At least you had her love!" He kicked at Eragon's shin which was already bruised earlier from Rosalie's attack. He grimaced ignoring the pain as he wrapped his arms around Murtagh in a rather vicious headlock.

"How would you feel if you saw her saddened by the life she led? What would you think when you couldn't help your own mother! Tell me, Murtagh!" Eragon tightened his grip on his brother, as if to strangle him which caused the elves to stir in alarm. But before they could act, Murtagh threw him off after a moment of struggling.

"I would've done something! Rather than accept fate I would have fought, even if that meant death!" Eragon felt distaste color his thoughts as he heard Murtagh's words. Always one to act on emotions rather than reason. That was where they were different. "And you, ever since you've joined the Varden you've been as stubborn as a mule refusing our hand. The only person you would ever turn to is Arya and not your own family!"

Eragon's expression darkened as he spun about kicking Murtagh in the head. "Don't you bring her into this," Eragon said panting slightly from the exertions of their reckless attacks and behaviors.

"Why? Does it bother you that I bring in your mate towards our family matters? What will you do, Eragon?" He frowned, anger flashing across his as he ran forward to deliver a hard blow to Murtagh's right shoulder. And again they tumbled to the ground in a flurry of kicks and punches, each trying to gain leverage on the other. Eragon managed to get his feet underneath Murtagh's to kick him mightily in the chest sending him flying upside down over his head as he landed with a thump.

"At least I have Arya by my side." Eragon grunted as Murtagh threw himself atop of him. "I can't say the same for you though."

"Even so, you should still allow us to help you." Murtagh rolled atop of him, gaining the upper hand as he pinned Eragon to the ground, before knocking him squarely in the jaw. "It may not be as much but it will still lighten your burdens! I'm tired of watching my brother at odds with his family. Why can't you reach out to us?"

Eragon frowned, rolling them about until he was hovering over Murtagh, delivering the blows. "What can you do to help me? When you can't even defend yourself? How will you help me? Words do not mean anything not unless you take action upon them."

They rolled again, "Words can help ease your pain. As long as there is sincerity behind them. I would know and I believe you would too if you let us in to help. Brom is always shamed that he couldn't raise you and whenever he tries to breach the gap that his mistake has made, you refuse to let him. Mother is saddened every time she tries to care for you but you never give her the chance to."

Eragon blinked as he let Murtagh's words wash over him. And what about Murtagh he wondered? "I've always wanted family. Growing up in Carvahall as a foster child in Uncle Garrow's home has made it clear to me. And now I can have one with my mother and Brom, and Roran and Katrina, but you refuse to let it happen and I'm sick of it!"

His vision flashed before his eyes when Murtagh landed a particularly heavy blow to the side of his head where Finny had hit him earlier. "I know I'm foolish and naïve but at least I can acknowledge help from others and move past mistakes to forge a better future!" Eragon threw Murtagh off of him and stood, wiping the blood staining his chin as he rubbed his jaw, panting heavily.

He thought the same as well but he had been too fearful to take that step. Past hurts and demons had kept him from moving forward like Murtagh could. Eragon clenched his fist putting all of his pain and anger into it as he moved ran forward, yelling. Murtagh came to meet him, his own fist rising up to meet him. Their hits landed, squarely on each other's jaw sending them off their feet and into the ground. They fell five yards apart from one another, breathing heavily as they tried to regain their breath. Then for a moment a laugh escaped Murtagh, Eragon frowned and turned to his brother. Had he lost his sense? For a brief moment he thought he might have hit him too hard on the head and might have caused him brain damage.

"Have you finally lost your mind?" Eragon asked warily from where he laid.

Murtagh's chuckle was his reply. "Maybe I have. Normally I would never bring this up with you but it has been threatening to make its way out. You're more trouble than anyone I've ever met."

"And you're more foolish than anyone _I've _ever met," Eragon said. Then he scoffed. "Forge a better future? How cliché of you."

"It was the only phrase that came to my mind at the moment. I apologize for lacking eloquence. I was riled up."

"Shut up and quit being polite," he said as he laid there for a moment. "I know you want to hit me in the face again."

"I do."

"Then that settles it, I also want to hit you once more but after the brawl we've just finished, let's wait for another day to continue," he moved into a sitting position finally feeling the pain of Murtagh's blows. He would have to heal them before they bruised. He heard Murtagh get to his feet and then a hand entered his field of vision. Eragon stared at it for a moment before he sighed and he gripped it allowing Murtagh to help him to his feet. When he stood, he winced feeling his wounds burn.

"It seems as if a crowd has come to watch us," Murtagh said amused as he released Eragon's hand. He looked worse for wear. Where Eragon had struck him, he was already forming light purple bruises. His lip was split and bleeding and there was a cut above his eye. Eragon turned and indeed a crowd had formed but not of warriors but of his family. Arya and Nasuada stood at the forefront their expressions torn between amusement and exasperation. Next to them was his father how was gently supporting his mother on her feet and behind them was Roran and Katrina.

Eragon glanced at his servants and they shrugged, guilty. They had called them to watch. "What made you decide to say those things to me?" Eragon asked curiously as he turned to face his brother.

"A rather wise person," he said his eyes moving towards Nasuada. Surprise flushed Eragon; he didn't suspect that Nasuada was worried over his family affairs. But then again, the Varden was her family and if it was in trouble or in need of mending she would always step in to lend a hand. Eragon snorted before rubbing his chest a little to ease the pain. "You look ridiculous, you know."

He raised a brow at Murtagh, "You've no right to say that when you look as if an Urgal has taken to you." Turning from him he made his way towards his family, hearing Murtagh's footsteps behind him as he followed. When they reached them, Eragon made to bow to Nasuada but the pain in his torso made him wince.

Noticing, Nasuada shook her head, "It's alright Eragon; you're certainly in no state to practice proper politics at the moment." Amusement was on her expression as she gazed at the two of them. "I hope that you've both settled your differences?"

"We did." Eragon and Murtagh murmured as they stood there trying to ease the pain from their body.

"Good, now the both of you can work in conjunction with one another," though she'd tried to play it off as an action in favor of the Varden, he knew that it was for Murtagh's sake that she'd urged him to take action. She truly did feel for his brother Eragon thought.

"Who thought that my brother would be as stubborn as a mule?" Murtagh said as he took in a deep breath that seemed to pain him slightly.

"Me? Stubborn as a mule?" Eragon turned to him, his expression cool. "At least I don't go about acting like a _fool._" And it was true for the day before he had bumped into Angela who had kept him for a good hour describing Murtagh's actions in healing Elva and how the child was now fear to do what she wanted.

He smiled the split in his lips widening blood dripping down. "I can admit to that folly in my personality. Brothers?"

Eragon stared at his outstretched hand for a moment and all around them, no one moved, breathed, or blinked as they waited for his reaction. He glanced at it for a moment then turned his head away as he took his outstretched hand. "Brothers." He murmured softly.

All around them a collective breath was released. Eragon turned to them raising a brow as if he'd seen them for the first time. Arya stepped forward her hands coming up to ran along his light bruises. Unlike Nasuada, exasperation had won over for her as her emerald eyes took in his appearance. "You look delightfully frightful."

Eragon smiled somewhat wincing at the pain that it caused. _Delightfully frightful? _

_She's right, you know. _He turned his head slightly to face Saphira as the dragons bore down on them. Her feelings bordered disapproval and amusement. _You look like a person who was tossed like a ragdoll on boulders. _

_I'm sorry for my poor appearance but my emotions got the best of me, _Eragon said as he gazed at her slightly surprised that she didn't intervene. _Why didn't you? _

_Because Thorn had asked that I didn't, _his eyes traveled to the ruby dragon. _He wanted to help Murtagh ease his relationship with you and it seems that the only way for the two of you to go about doing so is to beat each other senseless. How childish of the both of you. _

He grinned at her reaching forward to gently stroke her snout earning an affectionate puff of air from her. His eyes returned to Arya who had healed the bruises on his face while he was busy conversing with Saphira. "It must have been something to see."

"Two dragon riders scrambling on the ground to deliver kicks and blows," her eyes shined with amusement. "It was a sight, I would give you that."

The sound of uneven footsteps made his glance towards his mother who was making her way towards them, her expression set into a stern frown. He knew that look and had often seen if as a child when he was in trouble. Arya released him and with a smile, stepped aside for his mother to approach both him and Murtagh, her lips pursed, her brows furrowed. "Why are all the men in this family idiots?" the question was amusing but her tone was not and for once he could see why his mother could faire so well as Morzan's Black Hand. "Why can't you just settle things without the use of your fists? Was it too much to merely trust in words? No, you had to go rolling around on the ground to prove your point. If I wasn't so far along with child I would've smacked you two senseless by now!"

"Mother, it's not good for you to get angered in your condition," Eragon said as he stared at her.

Her eyes narrowed, "I've been on much more perilous journeys than carrying a child. And because you two are unable to behave yourselves, I must watch to see that you don't end up making a public embarrassment of yourselves. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

"We weren't." Murtagh mumbled, slightly embarrassed but Eragon could see the happiness his mother had invoked within his brother as he waited for her to continue her tirade.

"Selena, maybe you should sit and we can talk about this later," Brom murmured, though Eragon could see a slight smile in his beard.

"Father's right," Surprised, Eragon glanced over at Murtagh who stared at him waiting for him to challenge him yet again. After a moment, he sighed. Brom was by all means his mother's husband so that did make Murtagh his son, by law.

"Yes, father's right," Eragon repeated.

Her mother glanced at him for a moment, as if not believing his easy surrender before she sighed. "You two are both stubborn as mules. It'll take more than merely words to move you, it seems." She gestured to their faces. "Go get cleaned and come to our tent, we're going to have dinner together." Turning she gestured towards Arya and Nasuada. "I hope you two won't mind joining us, you're very much family as is Roran and Katrina and I fear it will take two intelligent females to balance the idiocy of my sons. Maybe Angela was right they are quite…"

Eragon stared after him glancing at Murtagh out of the corner of his eyes, his brother shrugged. Then with a last word to each other made to return to their tents to change and clean themselves, not to mention heal the amounts of bruises that they'd received throughout the brawl. Saphira had left with his mother with a last thought; _I'll see you at their tent and do take care not to get into anymore fights. You might actually end up hurting yourself. _

When he was alone in his own tent did he finally let the weight of what happened sink in. He had accepted and allowed Murtagh as well as his family past the final barriers that he had built. But it wasn't going to last, he thought, as he stared at his reflection in the basin. He reached up to touch his right eye. When it happened, it would only bring pain to them. He couldn't bear it. Gripping the edge of the table, he blinked when it cracked underneath the pressure of his hands.

_What's wrong, Eragon? Are you afraid? _He blinked glancing down at the water to find a person staring out at him that looked like him but his eyes were a cold azure and violet. He blinked and only his reflection stared up at him. _The time has almost come and soon your soul will be nonexistent. _

Eragon closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Whatever happens, happens. There was no changing it and it was pointless to try. Glancing at the basin again he left for his parents' tent to find a table already set up and his family seated all around with the inclusion of Nasuada and his servants as they prepared to eat. Murtagh was already there, sitting on between Brom and Nasuada. The only seat open was to his mother's right directly across his father and next to Arya.

He took it and the conversations around the table seemed to diminish slightly before regaining momentum. His mother had reached forward to set a plate before him that was filled with his favorite food. Blueberry muffins, baked potato dipped in melted cheese, and seasoned green beans. Picking up a fork he began to eat, thanking his mother.

Around him, he heard Murtagh speaking, "Katrina and Roran are to be married tomorrow, mother."

"Oh? That soon?" at the expressions on their faces understanding dawned on her and she nodded. "Who is to marry you?"

"Murtagh," Eragon took a bite of his baked potato as he stared at his cousin in interest. "I thought that there was no one better to do the job in tying mine and Katrina's hands together for life."

"Don't cause a blunder tomorrow," Brom said gruffly despite the smile on his face. Eragon nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing.

"It would be a shame if you did something to ruin a ceremony so beautiful," he stared at Roran before his eyes flitted to Katrina. "Congratulations on your matrimony it seems."

Roran nodded to him at a loss for words while Katrina hesitantly smiled. She was more welcoming than her betrothed Eragon thought. "Thank you…cousin."

He regarded her with surprise for a moment before he turned back to his plate before him. "Are you and Arya to marry?" The question made his stop his fork halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Arya who smiled at Katrina seemingly at ease with her question.

"Elves do not marry, we take one another as mates but due to our long lives, marriage is a practice that we do not hold high in our culture," her eyes turned to Eragon bright and green. "Eragon and I are simply mates."

Katrina nodded politely, before her curiosity seemed to get the better of her, "If it's not rude of me, may I ask how Ellesmera looks like? I've always heard of it and it sounds very beautiful from all accounts."

To his surprise, Arya actually described the forest to Katrina. He had thought she would refuse on grounds that it was too confidential but speaking of her home seemed to put her at ease. As Eragon stared at her he felt a familiar ache in his heart at the thought of relinquishing her and his new found ease with his family.

He didn't want to. Never in his life had he wanted anything as much as to stay by their sides with them and to see them through this war. But time was slipping through his fingers like water. He kept his expression calm but underneath his emotions was like a turbulent thunder storm ready to break through the surface. Life was cruel and unfair. As his eyes moved from his mother to his father and down the table, he felt the pain in his heart deepen as he knew that he would not likely be with them towards the end of the war.

He stopped on Saphira gazing at her from where she laid with Eridor watching them with sparkling eyes. He loved her beyond anything not only because of their bond but because of them time they'd spent together, through think and thin. Leaving her would break her heart but he wouldn't have it any other way, if the spirit consumed his soul then he wished for his servants to see their promise to him through. His eyes drifted to Arya as she sat speaking to Katrina and the others.

Another ache washed over him, he didn't want to leave her either. The pain it would cause her. He closed his eyes for a moment taking in a deep breath, he wouldn't think about it. They were here and he didn't want to upset or worry her with his depressed behavior. Burying the pain deep inside him, he turned listened in on the conversation often times answering when a question was directed at him.

**Now, I've prolonged the conflict for too long and I want to see this story take off already. SoI hope you're all ready for some action and violence and drama. And maybe some sadness. (It might invoke tears or not) Anyways, the next few chapters are going to be serious and emotional, so I'm going to take some time on those and proofread them to insanity for my Beta is still out for another week or two. **


	50. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

**Today is Sunday! And I've decided to post this for anyone of you who have to return to school the following Monday. What a bummer! Anways, I couldn't wait to post this chapter, but the one after it I'm going to revise and edit for some time to make it seem right and nice. **

It was an excruciating task to wake next morning but seeing as it was his cousin's wedding, he had an obligation to him to attend. And it would no doubt hearten his friends and families to see him out and about. Shaking off the ache in his bones, he made his way towards the clearing where the wedding was to take place. Murtagh had asked that he come to assist and get to know the people that he'd grown up with. He begrudgingly accepted the offer for his mother was observing him with such a keen eye it was impossible to deny it.

He and Saphira walked towards Murtagh and Thorn where they waited beside Elain, one of the women from Carvahall who was also with a child. His eyes searched for Blodhgarm and the other elves but he couldn't see them. It didn't bother him for he knew that they were hidden somewhere close in case Murtagh was in any danger.

"Looks like you've made it brother," Murtagh said, Eragon regarded him with a tired expression before sighing. What was he doing here? No one in this village welcomed him and it made it harder to try to manage a polite attitude with them. "We've to be put to work and cook."

"Cook?" He frowned, he didn't like cooking not on a regular basis though. "I'll call Rosalie and Desdemona, they can do it."

Murtagh shook his head, "No, we'll have to do it ourselves. Besides, those two are with mother. You wouldn't want to leave her unguarded would you?"

He stared at Murtagh for a moment with a frown but didn't refute him. He was right, he thought reluctantly. He gestured at Elain. She regarded Eragon with cautious eyes as she stood with both of her hands pressed into the small of her back trying to relieve the weight of her pregnancy and for a moment she reminded him so much of his mother. "It's not good for your condition to be up and about so much. You should rest more." Eragon caught himself and fell silent. How embarrassing…

She glanced at him partly amused her caution fading slightly, before she gestured towards a line of planks set on stumps that six women were using as a counter, "There are still twenty loaves of bread dough that have to be kneaded. Will you see to it, please?"

After a nudge by Saphira, Eragon followed Murtagh towards the women who promptly fell silent when they approached. Murtagh introduced him to the six however awkward the moment was. He tried to memorize all of their names and faces. There was Birgit, Felda, Isold, and three others whom he couldn't remember. Ignoring their conversations, Eragon was intent on making the bread to the best of his abilities. As he worked, he felt a memory tug at him.

_His mother was roughly kneading a bowl of flour, often times pouring water into the bowl to keep the dough at a right state. Not too stick, not too dry. He barely reached her waist at the time and it was a challenge to even try to look over the counter. She was very beautiful, Eragon thought as he stared up at his mother. Her eyes were bright and a smile played on her lips as she continued to work. _

"_Mother," he tugged at her apron. _

_She paused glancing down at him, her brown eyes—his eyes—filled with warmth. "What is it, Eragon?" _

_He pointed at the tabletop, "Can I try?" _

"_Don't you want to play with the other children?" _

_He shook his head. He didn't care for the other children within in Uru'baen. He only cared for his mother. He never wanted to leave her. His mother glanced at him for a moment before bending down and lifting him up so he sat on the tabletop. Though the white flour stained his clothing, he didn't care. "Watch me do it, Eragon and then you can try." _

_He nodded and sat with his legs crossed, his hands in his lap as he leaned forward slightly to watch her hands knead the dough. His mother laughed at his intensity to the task but resumed her kneading. Her hands were very graceful as she concentrated on kneading, after a moment she placed another bowl on top of the table and made another small dough ball. This one she placed before him. _

"_Now you try, Eragon." _

_He nodded, and began to knead the dough intently. It was harder than it looked. The dough was sticky and when he kneaded it too roughly or for too long it became too dry. After a moment, his mother went to check on his progress, a smile on her lips as she took in his dough or what was left of it. "It's not the best but you'll get better Eragon. _

_He frowned causing his mother's smile to widen as she bent down to peck him on the forehead. "I'll teach you again. And then maybe you can cook me bread to eat one day." _

"_Okay." _

"You seem to be doing really well," it was Birgit who spoke to him as she checked his kneading.

His reply was quiet, "Thank you." He didn't know how to act around them and preferred silence over conversation. Nearby Saphira and Thorn were relaxing as the children from Carvahall ran about them playing and shouting with joy. To be so young and happy…As he worked, he observed Murtagh as he spoke freely with those in the clearing for he knew everyone from his time in Carvahall. That was his home. _Where was his? _Murtagh had grown up with all of these people in the clearing. He knew each one some on a more personal level than others.

It just made Eragon realize just how small his world was before he'd left Uru'baen. _Could I have been_ _like Murtagh?_ Ignoring that thought, he nearly wanted to leave when the six women about him began to share bawdy jokes about the groom, who was his cousin even though Eragon barely knew him. The tip of his ears burned and he fought not to think of Arya whenever a joke came up. It was disrespectful. Beside him, Murtagh's face was flushed with heat and he was staring intently down at his dough.

A single horn rang out across the land, unnaturally loud.

Then again.

And again.

As everyone froze in place, Eragon turned as Saphira made to stand on her feet the children always scampering away for their parents. He jumped onto Saphira as she surged into the air. He knew it was just too calm. If Jeremiah attacked, he was going to make sure that he had what was coming to him. _Fly to the north entrance, Saphira. _

_What about your armor? _

He thought about it for a moment before scowling. _Forget it. We need to hurry to Nasuada. _She complied and flew north, alighting upon the crest of one of the embankments that ringed the camp. Nasuada was already there, sitting upon her charger. Beside her was Jormundur, also mounted; Arya atop of Eridor, his servants and countless others. And from what he could tell they had hastily donned their armor. Soon enough Murtagh joined them, tugging on his bracers.

"Who challenges?" Eragon asked as he closed upon them.

"Look." Nasuada pointed.

Roughly two miles away, five sleek boats had landed upon the near bank of the Jiet River. From the boats there issued a swarm of men. He recognized the armor as Galbatorix's. Arya shaded her eyes with a hand and squinted at the soldiers. "I put their number between two hundred seventy and three hundred."

Something was wrong, Eragon thought as he gazed at the soldiers that had formed orderly ranks before marching towards the Varden's camp. Why would Galbatorix send so few? He thought about it for a moment. He had learned underneath the dark king, he knew his mind and he knew what he sought. He must have another plan. This was merely a diversion.

"He does not plan to overwhelm us," Eragon said after a moment. "That force is just merely to divert the attentions of our warriors for a moment. We must be careful."

"Why is that?" King Orrin regarded him with driving eyes. "Do you believe us too weak to hold off such a small force?"

"No, I'm merely stating that Galbatorix has made an underhanded move to make sure that he can hold the Varden long enough for him to accomplish his goal. I've served him and I would know how great of a magician he is. He had given those soldiers magical enchantments for he would never risk the lives of his men for a worthless end."

"Then we must take great care not to let ourselves become too overly confident," said Nasuada.

The horn sounded again, so loudly that Eragon, Arya, Murtagh, and the rest of the elves covered their ears. He frowned, how unneeded. A movement in the sky caught his eyes. Glancing at it, he felt his anger well up within him as he saw that ebony beast flying towards the Varden, and atop of him in his polished armor was Jeremiah and from what Eragon saw he was not missing his arm that he had severed in their last battle. _My revenge…_

As they closed, Eragon ignored everything else that went on about him as he stared intently at Jeremiah. He felt it again, the feeling of another force drawing him in. His soul. He had to take it back from him. It was his only chance to do so now. _Saphira, let's—_he grunted when he felt his heart give out slightly in his chest before regaining its tempo beating at such a fast rate it felt ready to give out. _Not now. _Slumping forward slightly in Saphira's saddle, he tried to take in a deep breath.

"Eragon?" Alarm was in Murtagh's voice as he watched him. "What's wrong?"

Eragon shook his head, "I'm fine. I'll fight—"

His heart gave another painful thud. His vision flashed red as he felt the tugging sensation at his heart and soul grow stronger. "No, Arya and I will fight off Jeremiah. The two of us are more than enough. You fight on feet with King Orrin, least of all he'll get himself killed."

_King Orrin? _He glanced about, the king was missing as well as Garzhvog and his Urgals. He turned his head and saw them confronting the soldiers that had come by ships. He gazed at Murtagh and Arya for a moment, "Fly safely then, Arya…Brother."

Murtagh's face was hard and set while Arya's was alerted. They held each other's gazes for a moment before Thorn and Eridor took to the sky flying towards Jeremiah. _Let's go support King Orrin, Saphira. _

_Are you sure? _

_I'm fine. Let's go. _

She bounded forward with great leaps towards the place where King Orrin's cavalry and Garzhvog and his Urgals had intercepted the king's men. From what Eragon saw they were holding their own rather well. Every soldier they came into contact with fell underneath their weapons. He watched them for a moment, then a chill came down his spine as he watched one soldier a spear protruding from his chest rise back to his feet. There was no spell to bring back the dead, which he knew for sure. And a wound like that would incapacitate any normal person with agonizing pain.

_Pain! _

_ What is it Saphira? _Eragon asked as he watched the man grab his sword, he strung his bow and aimed for the man's heart and unleashed the arrow watching as it pierced the man in the heart sending him toppling to the ground. This time he did not rise.

_Galbatorix must have used magic to block their ability to feel pain. Who else would it explain that they can rise back up after being pierce in the chest by the spear? The only way to kill them is to make sure that their body will be unable to rise again. _

_So that means either by severing their heads or stabbing them in the heart. _He slung his bow across his back again as he drew his sword. Dismounting Saphira he ran towards to the fray, watching as fallen soldiers rise again to attack the Varden's warriors after they'd turned their backs.

Dispatching one by cleanly severing his head, Eragon raised his voice with the use of magic. "Behead them! Stab them in the heart! Do not leave them with your back turns!" Hearing his advice, they took to it and the amount of confusion seemed to be reduced as they fought. Moving forward, Eragon kicked up a spear and with another kick sent it flying into a soldier's head.

As he did so, he felt his heart give a tug again as the scent of blood made its way to his nose. His vision flashed red and his hand moved of its own accord as it pierced another soldier through the heart with his sword. A demented laugh rose up from the fighting around him while another erupted in his mind. He grimaced at the pain his mind was experiencing. Regaining control of his body, he sidestepped a slash to his chest and effectively snapped the neck of his enemy.

Above them bellows tore through the air with such force it made him pause in his attacks for a moment. Eridor and Thorn were flying about the beast with such skill it was impressive and every time they bit the beast, a chunk of rotting meat fell from the sky. Moving forward, he brought his sword down upon every person within his way, not taking into mind who they were as long as his blade severed their head from the neck.

_Thump. _

He grunted clutching at his chest as his heart gave an agonizing thump in his chest. He tried to shrug it off as he grabbed a dagger from the ground to stab a man to his side in the heart. But it kept persisting, his vision fading into red, the lines becoming slightly blurry. His hands shook slightly. Eragon coughed lightly. Falling into place besides King Orrin, Eragon ignored the ache in his body and the red in his vision as he waited for the king's orders.

"Eragon, show these blasted soldiers our might!" King Orrin had lost all of his bearings. His face was flushed and his eyes wild. Saphira roared to the side crushing a soldier with the strength of her jaws. He nodded and started forward, his blade flashing in the sunlight. Overhead the battle between Arya and Murtagh against Jeremiah was still going strong but he could tell who the clear winner was. Jeremiah's beast was barely holding it together against the might of Eridor and Thorn.

As he fought, he heard a pained bellow overhead. Arya had managed to stab Jeremiah through the gut, his eyes drifted upwards and he watched as she caught an item that sparkled in the sunlight. Was that a mirror? Before he could think of it more, a demented laugh rose up from the man standing forty feet away from him. He was injured greatly but he didn't show signs of falling. Eragon stared at him as his vision blurred again. The sound of his laugh angered him.

He stared at the man, slightly stumbling as he felt his heart give out again before resuming to beat at an erratic speed. The demented laugh rang in his ears paining his mind. "What's so funny?" Eragon asked the man as he stared at him.

The man just continued to laugh, "You, lord Gabranth."

"What did you say?"

"Your pitiful existence is amusing."

Within the blink of an eye, Eragon was upon the man. Instead of using his sword to pierce the man's heart, his left hand came up and like a dagger tore through his armor and though his skin into the other side of his chest. He withdrew his hand, blood dripping from his forearm and down. A wave of humor seized him and he couldn't understand why it was so funny but it made him laugh. It started off as a small chuckle before it grew into a laugh more demented then the ones that erupted from the soldiers.

Why was he laughing? He didn't know anymore. Death was funny. Living was funny. Stifling his laughter he jumped to the side landing on a soldier, standing he crushed the man's head with his boot. He laughed again. As he stood there, his vision tinted red and fading, a sharp piece of metal pierced his side. Vaguely he thought about the fact that it was his own fault for not wearing armor.

He laughed, not feeling the pain.

Grabbing the soldier who had pierce him in his side he crushed his head between his hands and with a squelch pulled the spear coated in a dark liquid from his side. When he stared down at the red liquid pouring out from his side, he couldn't register the fact that he was actually wounded. Instead he watched the torrent of crimson pour onto the ground. His heart gave a thump, his vision began to fade.

That was when he heard the shrieking laugh that nearly tore his head apart. Dropping his sword, he gripped his head trying to stop the noise. _Eragon! _Hearing Saphira, he shook his head, pushing her thoughts out and blocking her from his mind. Whatever was happening to him he couldn't get her involved in. His head seared again.

"Make the noise stop." He growled. His bones seared with pain as if a fire had imploded inside him, traveling through his veins and ready to consume his entire being. His right eye burned wildly.

_He was standing in the same place as before. Standing on the surface of blue water and facing a matching sky. What was going on? The sound of dripping water caught his attention. Eragon frowned when he took in the white tomb before him. The chains had become so rusted that it looked like as useless as a string of twine. And cracks outlined the white stone in more places than one and from those crack dripped red liquid: blood. _

_Sitting atop of the tomb with ease was his shadow. He was smiling at Eragon showing his strong pointed teeth. "You should have worn your armor Eragon or that man wouldn't have been able to pierce you." _

"_You've done enough," Eragon said with a scowl. "Let me back into my body." _

_His shadow sat there for a moment, a rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He glanced at him with a thoughtful expression as if he was seriously considering his demand. Then a peal of laughter rose from him. "After being stuck in your body for all of these years, I don't think I will. It's my turn to have fun." _

_His smile widened. "It was your own carelessness that you're succumbing to my madness, Eragon. If only you had worn your armor. Or better, if you hadn't left Uru'baen you would never be in this situation." _

_Eragon frowned, staring at his shadow. "It doesn't matter. Even if you did take over my body, my servants will be there to stop you." _

"_I don't think so." He grinned before slipping off of the tomb he sat on, straightening. He turned back to the chains. "Ever since you accepted my help to fight Jeremiah, you used my power. And as such it was able to render that seal in your right eye useless with every thirst for blood that you felt. Good thing it did for how else would these bothersome chains corrode so easily?" _

_He bent forward and easily snapped one off. The drips of blood into the water below grew stronger. Then with a yell of happiness the shadow gripped the remaining chains in both hands before tugging them apart, easily breaking them. The metal snapped, flying in different directions. Eragon made to run forward stopping as a heavy gust of wind slammed into him. He flexed his knees bringing up his arms to deflect block it. What was happening?_

_The white tomb had fallen into pieces as a dark mist rose up from its confines twisting into the air, the laughter of his shadow grew louder. "You've lost, Eragon!" _

"_Not yet!" He sprang forward, but as soon as he did he felt his feet sink an inch into the water beneath him. His eyes widened in alarm as the tranquil blue water had suddenly became a sea of blood, its crimson color making him dizzy. The sky had also changed with the water. Instead of azure it was a deep gray. "What the—?"_

"_Welcome to the depths of my mind, Eragon." His shadow grinned at him again. Struggling forward, he barely moved a few feet before something sprang up from underneath the surface of the blood. Black tentacles that wrapped themselves around his wrist, waist, and torso. _

_It gave a tug pulling him deeper into the red liquid. And no matter how hard he struggled, it was to no avail. "You shouldn't put up too much of a fight or you might damage your soul." _

"_Let me go!" he shouted. It only seemed to invoke more laughter from his shadow. The tentacles gave another tug, pulling him waist deep. _Don't give up, Eragon. Don't give up._ He gave a tug. But as he did so his heart gave an agonizing thump in his chest. _

"Eragon, what's wrong?" Murtagh, that was Murtagh's voice. "Let us help you! Eragon!" He saw him reaching forward, his face panicked and alarmed.

_He gave another tug, _I'm trying Murtagh. _But he was sinking slowly into the depths of the blood and the spirits maddening mind. _

A bellow of anguish sounded through the air. Saphira was before him her sapphire eyes deep with pain.

_The hold the tentacles had on him tightened. _I'm sorry Saphira. _His heart gave another agonizing thump in his chest. This was the end…_

"Eragon, look at me!" though beautiful as it was, her voice was filled with pain and worry. "Control it Eragon! Do not surrender to it! Eragon!" He saw Arya standing before him, Tamerlein drawn but limp in her hands as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Eragon, stay with me!"

_His heart gave another agonizing beat. _

"_Ah, it seems as if they've figured out what's happened here." His shadow smiled. "Since there's such a warm and welcoming crowd awaiting me, I'll take my leave." _

"_No, wait!" He was neck deep in the crimson sea now, struggling despite the fact that he was unable to pull himself out. "Stop!" There was one final tug, pulling him below the red sea. The surface above was blurred by the liquid and soon enough he found himself falling into a dark abyss as wide as he could see. There was no exit. There was no escape. _

_He'd lost. _

_It was an odd fact to thing but it was true for his mind and body had fallen prey to the spirit. Was this the end? Was this where he was to spend the rest of eternity? He'd often thought of dying fighting against Galbatorix or trying to free Alagaesia but this was a reality that was different from his own thoughts. _

_The tentacles pulled him deeper until his eyes could not see any more light. It was like having them closed for surrounding him was just pitch darkness. He hated the dark especially when he was alone. But this was where he was to spend the rest of his life, consumed by the spirit's bloodlust. _Fulfill your promise to me Bard, Desdemona, Finny, and Rosalie. _He'd no doubt that they would be able to free him from his prison with death. His heart gave a thump in his chest. This was goodbye. He wasn't going to see family again, Saphira, or Arya. _

I wish I told her how I felt…

_Closing his eyes, he let himself drift downwards to be entirely engulfed by the darkness. _

**And this is my rather agonizing cliffhanger for you all because I want to save the real drama for the next chapter. I hoped you all enjoyed it and please do review! **


	51. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

**I've worked forever on this chapter. I feel like I might have killed some of my brain cells in doing so. But I'm glad that it is finally done. And I'm really hoping that you'll all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Just to tell you, I was writing chapter 49 and I nearly cried. It was a heart breaking thing to go about. But I won't tell you all anymore than that. Happy reading! **

Are_ you injured Eridor? _Arya asked as he swerved to the right affording the blow to his underbelly from the rotting beast.

_Just scratches, _he gave a bellow as he dove forward grabbing the beast by the neck between his jaws. If she wasn't distracted fighting Jeremiah she would have shielded her nose from such a foul stench. It was disgusting how Galbatorix had decided to assemble an imitation of a dragon to fight them. And from rotting flesh. She, who could not bring herself to consume the flesh of an animal, had to fight against a monster made from that flesh. A chunk of rotting meat fell to the ground as Thorn's talons dug into the beast.

_What an abomination, _below them Thorn had attached himself to the underside of the beast tearing at it with his talons. _How are you faring Murtagh? _Their thoughts were connected to keep them in line with each other's moves.

_Well, _was his reply and through his mind she could feel the consciousness of Blodhgarm and the other elves sent to guard him. _We've almost got him. Only a little more and he'll have to surrender to us. _

_Careful, do not become too overconfident. It will allow for an opening. _She blocked a swipe to her neck with ease and with a quick flick of her wrist, rotated Tamerlein about and stabbed him in the gut. Letting out a yell, Jeremiah quickly pulled himself off of her blade something in his armor catching onto the tip of her sword before flying upwards into the air. Sparkling in the rays of light cast by the sun, a hand sized mirror in the shape of a six point star caught her eye. Arya reached up to catch it as Jeremiah shouted a command to his beast which was missing parts of its body.

The beast lashed at them with its spiked tail before turning to fly in the directions of Uru'baen. _He's escaping! _Murtagh cried, _Thorn hurry after them! _

The ruby dragon made to fly forward before another mind touched theirs. Recognizing Saphira's thoughts, Arya lowered her barriers, immediately feeling the dragon's distress through their connection. _What is it, Saphira? _

_It's Eragon! _Almost immediately Eridor dived forward towards the ground where the sapphire dragon was. The level of Saphira's turmoil and anguish was so deep that it nearly incapacitated Arya for a moment. She withdrew slightly to herself. _He's losing control of himself. You must hurry Arya or he'll be lost! _

Once Eridor neared the ground, he flared out his wings on either side to slow their descent. When he slowed twenty feet from the ground, Arya loosened the straps of the saddle and jumped landing lightly on the ground. Her eyes sought Eragon. It wasn't hard to do so seeing that he was standing a hundred yards away from the fighting between the Varden and Galbatorix's army.

His hands were clenched over his ears as he stood there hunched over. She ran to him but Murtagh was the first to reach him. "Eragon, what's wrong?" he asked reaching out for his brother. But Eragon retreated a step, his eyes wide in a crazed madness, his pupils dilated in pain. "Let us help you!" When he didn't reply, Murtagh's panic seemed to increase. "Eragon!"

Behind her she heard Saphira's bellow of anguish at the madness her rider was sinking into. Pushing past Murtagh, Arya went to stand before him, trying to keep her own pain and worry to a controllable level. "Eragon, look at me!" He didn't seem to hear her but instead stood there shaking his head murmuring under his breath.

"Make the noise stop! Please make it stop…" Noise? What noise? The fighting?

As she stared at him, the violet seal in his right eye began to glow brighter and brighter. "Control it, Eragon!" she urged him, trying to will him to keep the spirit at bay. His soul was strong enough she was sure it was. "Do not surrender to it!"

He didn't respond but continued to murmur. Arya felt her heart rapidly beat as she regarded him, she wasn't going to lose him. Not to the spirit within his body. There had to be another way. When she saw him slipping in and out of consciousness, her alarm heightened, "Eragon!" she cried reaching for him. "Eragon, stay with me!"

He didn't hear her but after a moment abruptly dropped his hands, his face losing any expression and he stared at her blankly. She heard Blodhgarm and the others stop behind them. Their swords were drawn and their bows strung, bewildered at the sudden turn in events. Eragon straightened and the seal in his right eye glowed ominously.

Suddenly the flow of magic from the seal was projected outward until it hovered in the air before them, bright and violet. Arya tightened her grip on Tamerlein. What was happening? The seal, a violet star, began to spin. Slowly at first but as time passed, it began to gain speed. A gust of wind caught them, violent and threatening, throwing them off of their feet and onto the ground. She almost lost her grip on the mirror in her right hand. Holding tightly onto it, she slid it into her belt strap.

_Eragon! _Saphira's cry echoed through her mind as the dragon buried her talons into the ground to keep from being thrown into the air by the strong gusts of winds. Her hair whipping about her face she glanced up from where she laid on the ground. Eragon was still standing unaffected by the great winds that seemed to shriek about him as he stood there, his seal spinning rapidly in the air before him. As it spun her eyes widened in surprise as a part of the seal shattered into violet lights.

_What's happening to him, Arya? _Murtagh's thoughts battered against hers demanding an answer. She frowned her eyes finding him lying on the ground with his arms pulled up over his head to protect it from the wind. _Is this some sort of dark magic? _

_In a way, _her lips thinned as she saw another piece of his seal shatter. The turbulent winds increased. _Eragon is sinking into madness…_

_Madness? I don't understand. _

_I know and it's a complicated explanation, _she knew that Murtagh sought answers but now was not the time to laze around and converse. They had to take action before it was too late. _I shall explain it to you at a later time, Murtagh. _

His thoughts faltered for a moment before he agreed, _I shall hold you to it then. _

_His seal is fading, I can feel its powers in the air as it shatters, _Eridor said as he laid low on the ground his wings tucked against his body to keep it from unfurling. If it did, the torrents of air were strong enough to toss him about in the sky. A hundred yards away, the conflict between the Varden and Galbatorix's soldiers continued. It would be a miracle if they didn't catch what was happening with Eragon. It would be detrimental to the Varden's campaign.

The wind became stronger, howling into the sky as if bursting from a confined space. Lashes upon lashes swept over them, blowing dirt into the air, and keeping them from Eragon. There was nothing she could do to help him for every time she made to rise to her feet, the strength of the wind was too great for her to overcome. The feeling of helplessness washed over her and she felt angered at the situation and at herself. For rarely in her life was she ever helpless. The remainder of the seal spun through the air, until it too shattered into oblivion.

A shriek erupted so loud and monstrous that it made her wince; her ears were too sensitive against such a loud noise. The shriek was inhuman, the voice was raw and it screeched with a desire for the freedom to kill. It made her shiver slightly as a chill ran through her body at its sound. Then Saphira's own roar was added to the mix, a lament.

_He's gone, I don't feel him anymore! _She roared within their minds. Her grief was so great that Arya felt like it could move a mountain. _Eragon! _A keening went up into the air as the storm of winds died down fading away.

_Eridor, comfort Saphira, _Arya hadn't needed to tell her dragon to do so for he was already trying to comfort his mate and lower her distress with reassuring words. _Make sure she doesn't interfere she might get seriously injured. _Moving to her feet, Arya turned towards where Eragon stood, his face lowered to the ground. She felt her heart give a hard beat, for some reason it didn't feel like she was staring at Eragon.

Murtagh was the first to speak, "Eragon, brother?"

It was quiet at first that Arya couldn't hear it but she saw his shoulders shake. Was he laughing? The answer to her question presented itself when his laughter floated over to them, reaching her ears causing alarm to surface within her. It was not Eragon's laugh; though she rarely heard it she could always place it. This was a laugh that belonged to a demon.

Lifting his head, Arya froze when she caught sight of mismatched eyes. Piercing sapphire and deep violet peered out at them instead of soft brown. A lazy smile was stretched on his face showing strong, sharp teeth. "Brother?" His voice was demonic and held a sound of madness as he stared at them. "I've forgotten the humor that you humans possess." His smile widened. "What a warm welcoming party that you've set out for me, I must say it's a wonder to be free of his mind."

"What did you do to my brother?" Murtagh asked raising Zar'roc slightly.

"Me? I didn't do a thing to him," his smile became twisted as a laugh escaped him, shaking his body in an uncontrollable fit. A few seconds passed before he quieted, staring at them. "Eragon was weak."

"He wasn't," Arya denied. Blue and violet eyes latched onto her and she fought the strong urge to look away. The spirit lifted one of Eragon's hands to comb through his hair as if preparing himself to meet a superior.

"You're more beautiful when I see you with my own eyes, Arya Drottningu. The pleasure is mine, do call me Asura," he bowed slightly, his voice not hiding the mockery that he spoke with. Her eyes narrowed but she forced her hand to remain still, if they moved against Eragon than they could accidentally kill him. With his body held hostage by the spirit, they were helpless.

"What did you do to him?" Arya repeated Murtagh's question, her voice deadly quiet.

"Like I said earlier, I did nothing to him. He was weak," Asura said. "Not physically but mentally. He used my power when he knew that his soul could not bear the presence of my own spirit. The punishment for using my magic was that the seal holding my soul was broken and my madness and bloodlust began to slip into his consciousness. It was a little at first but with all of the bloodlust and pain that had surrounded him, it sped up the process. Eragon was too weak to resist it, his soul was too weak. He lacked the mindset to fend me off. He was a weak person."

"No! Eragon's stronger than that," Murtagh protested viciously.

"Oh? His own heart harbored darkness," Asura said with a twirl of his hands in such an odd gesture as if he were to dance. "His fears grew ready to consume his mind. Fear had propelled him to such great lengths. And his own tortures, the killing, the dying, all brought forth a pillar of darkness within his heart. Within time, it grew. Seeing new sights, meeting new people had increased his darkness and his fears. It was enough to eat him alive from the inside."

Arya frowned; she could never imagine Eragon fearful of anything. She never saw that as a possible feeling for him. He was too strong, too confident with his abilities to be afraid. But when she thought back about his actions, she could see it in his eyes the hesitation that lurked beneath the surface. "It was amusing to say in the least when I think of his fears. His fear of seeing his father, his fear of his acceptance. He was afraid of disappointment, always trying to be the best, always trying to meet the expectations of others. But what he feared most was the love of another."

It was like everything about her had slowed to a halt and her ears were unable to hear correctly. Her heart which was already beating rapidly in her chest wanted to give out at Asura's admission. "Does that shock you into silence, Arya?" He grinned. "Eragon was afraid of becoming close to one and losing them. He was afraid of the chances love would give him, afraid of the new doors that would be opened to him. He worried constantly you see, he didn't want to burden the ones that he cared for. So he lied and deceived them, he went about their backs to keep them in utter darkness. He was not a great person as you think he is, but a coward."

Her shock abating, she felt anger overwhelm her. It tore through her veins with such speed that she wanted to lash out. "You're wrong," Arya argued, her eyes narrowed, Tamerlein shook slightly in her grip. Taking a deep breath, she still her hands and continued her voice still strong as she faced Asura. The spirit that controlled Eragon's body gazed at her in amusement as if she had said something particularly funny. "Eragon was afraid but he wasn't a coward. He was learning to live for himself and no other, to live without reason. For his entire life he lived for reasons, for ideals. He was not—is not a coward."

Asura sighed as he balanced on the balls of his feet, "My, such delusion especially coming from one as wise as you, Arya."

"She's not wrong," Murtagh said. "My brother is not a coward. He's the bravest person I know."

"Tut, tut, tut," he clicked his tongue with distaste. "It seems as if you're all plagued with blindness. Then let me open your eyes so you all can face reality." Raising Eragon's blade high above his head he began to murmur words that were alien to Arya. They weren't of the ancient language but of the language of spirits.

"Ready yourselves," Arya murmured as she took a defensive stance, trying to gauge an opening. As soon as her mind tried to locate a point in which to kill Asura, she gritted her teeth. She couldn't, it was Eragon's body. A violet tongue of light came forth appearing from nothingness, wrapping itself about Eragon's blade turning it a crude amethyst. The best she could do was to knock him unconscious.

Asura smiled at them then the next second he was gone. She blinked turning to see Murtagh thrown violently off his feet with a kick to the gut. Her eyes widened as she brought up Tamerlein to deflect a blow to her midsection. He was fast! Retreating, her eyes scanned back and forth for him. He was moving with the speed that was bestowed upon Eragon and he fought with the same strength. But it was also combined with whatever powers that he as a spirit possessed. She felt his presence behind her and hurriedly moved to the side to avoid the confines of his arms.

Blodhgarm and the other elves were torn between protecting Murtagh who was on all fours, covered in dirt from his fall, coughing and spitting blood and assisting her. Catching his eye, she shook her head. She would be the one to rid Eragon of Asura. "This is a lot more fun than I thought it would be!" he gave a laugh as he swung down on her, his blade slashing through midair as she fell to the side to dodge his blade.

Unable to stop his momentum, the blade slammed into the ground. His strength was grand for as the blade made contact with the ground, cracks erupted traveling twenty feet in every direction as if the ground was being uprooted. As he went to draw himself up, Arya brought Tamerlein forth mindless of the fact that it was Eragon's body she was attacking for alarm and instinct drove her into action. Before she could stop herself, her blade was protruding from Eragon's right shoulder, the tip breaking through the other side.

Instantly worry overwhelmed her. Eragon! A hand came out to wrap around her throat. Unable to pull Tamerlein from Eragon from fear of causing him an immense blood loss, she gasped as she was lifted off of her feet and staring directly into Asura's mismatched eyes. His lips were pulled down in a frown as he regarded her. His free hand reached up to grip the emerald blade of Tamerlein before pulling it out and tossing it to the ground. "How distasteful…"

Immediately, blood began to pour forward from the wound. Staining the tunic that Eragon had worn earlier that day. Never before had she felt such a distress as she stared at Asura—at Eragon. There was a roar to the side and she saw the dragons start forward, the sapphire dragon finally calm enough to grasp the situation. Lifting his hand to the dragons, Asura shouted in his alien language. Whatever he did was effective for the three of them dropped to the ground.

_Eridor! _He didn't respond. "I would worry more about yourself than your dragons." Asura warned, his blue and purple eyes glittering. When the elves and Murtagh made to intervene, he lifted his hand again and with another shout the ground began to shift underneath their feet. Taking in a strained breath, she watched as the dirt began to reach up like claws before clamping around her companions' wrists and ankles pulling them down against the ground to hold them there.

Despite their attempts to free themselves with the use of spells, it was ineffective against the dirt. "You can't use magic against this land, surely you understand being devoted to nature as you are," Asura said with a laugh again. "Alagaesia is far older than the ancient language and as such not even one as powerful as Galbatorix can hope to compete with its might."

His grip on her throat tightened but not enough to become threatening but it made breathing difficult. Reaching up with her right hand, she gripped his wrist. Asura leaned close to her until she could feel his breath on her skin. His scent, Arya noticed had changed. It wasn't the scent that belonged to Eragon, the smell of fresh air and a musky odor, but a scent of blood and something she couldn't identify.

"Such a beautiful woman, you are," She felt herself stiffen when the tip of his nose glided over her skin. Revulsion filled her thoughts. Her fingers tightened on his wrist ready to break the bone. As she moved to do so, the thought of putting Eragon in pain made her cautious. She hated to see him in pain, mentally or physically. He lifted his head to stare at her again. "It's such a shame that Eragon won't be able to be with you anymore."

Her eyes hardened as she stared at Asura in the eye, unwavering. Finding her determination, she said in a scathing and raspy voice, "Don't let him win, Eragon." He was still there, she was sure of it. Far off, the battle began to die down between the Varden and the Empire's soldiers. Then it increased in turmoil once more. "You're stronger than that. I know you are."

She saw a flash of recognition in his eyes before it was gone. It had worked, if only slightly. Asura raised her higher, bearing his sharp teeth in a demented smile. "It's hopeless to call out to him. His soul has been consumed by mine. He can't hear you." His smile widened. "I guess you'll just have your reunion in the afterlife!"

Before he could make do on his words an arrow engulfed in golden flames whizzed through the air towards them before piercing Asura in the forearm in which he held her. He didn't drop her like she expected but turned to face the new threat. She turned with him, as the golden fire faded away. Standing thirty yards away was Eragon's servants. They were smeared in dirt and blood but otherwise seemed unhurt. To her surprise, a determined but pain expression was set on their face as they gazed at their lord's body. Their weapons were drawn and ready. From what she could tell it was Bard who had loosed the arrow, in his hands he carried a low bow which was devoid of an arrow. What were they planning?

Asura gazed at them for a moment before a laugh tore through him. He dropped her to the ground where she fell clutching at her throat to ease the pain of his grip. Her guard down, she was too slow to evade the grips of the brick like dirt that formed chains about her waist, ankles, and wrists. Pulling against it, she felt dismay overwhelm her. She was trapped. Standing above her with his attention focused on the four servants, Asura continued to laugh. Hearing the sound of his laugh made her want to strike him. "I see you've actually decided to challenge me. What foolishness is this?" He laughed again.

"It's our promise to him," Bard said, and for the first time she heard the steel in his voice that portrayed a leader.

"Let go of this foolishness Bard, Desdemona, Rosalie, Finny. If you do, you can serve me instead. It would be a pity to waste away with such useful tools," Asura said as he pulled the arrow from Eragon's body. He held out his hand to them. "Join me."

Rosalie was the first to answer, "Never, our loyalty remains with lord Eragon and none else."

Asura shook his head as he raised his hand as if to throw something, but instead he began whispering and she watched as the same violet magic began to weave about him as if to protect him. _Wards. _After he was done he turned to them, "It's a shame that I'll have to kill you then. Such talented servants and yet here you are trying to fulfill your lord's last wish. Tell me how will you do so?"

Wish? She stared at them waiting for an answer to her question. What was Eragon's last wish? Asura's question seemed to cause them to hesitate which made him laugh again, "Your hesitation means everything. You can't kill him, can you?" Her eyes shot back to Asura and she could feel Murtagh and the others do the same. _Was his wish to have them kill him?_ It made sense, all of the looks she caught him giving his family, Saphira, and her. All of the time he set aside to spend with them. He knew that it would come to this. Anger and pain welled up within her. He had gone behind her back to request such a foolish wish. _Eragon…did you believe in your future at all? Did you believe in becoming better? _

No, she wouldn't shed tears. Not now. Not when there was a battle to be fought. "Your lord you love so much, you can bear the thought of stick a sword through his heart or an arrow to his throat. Weak! You're all weak!"

"Shut up!" Bard yelled as he strung another arrow.

"We're going to fulfill the wish to lord Eragon for we promised him!" and with that Finny bounded forward. Unable to help, Arya watched the four of them—no three of them for Bard remained behind them—to spring into action.

With his supernatural strength, Finny seemed to have caught Asura off guard for he rammed him hard in the gut. He went skidding backwards fifteen yards, Rosalie and Desdemona chasing him moving in towards his openings. She had seen this strategy before, when they trained with Eragon and she had thought nothing more of it. It never occurred to her that he was training them up to eventually kill him. Another pang of hurt ripped at her heart as she gazed at them fighting the person that they'd followed so diligently. It was heart wrenching to watch but she could never imagine herself striking down Eragon. It was just too much…

She closed her eyes, as a memory surfaced before her.

_He was fast and strong, Arya thought as she watched Eragon easily weave between his servants as they fought to make it pass his guard. He turned to ward of the imminent attack that Rosalie posed to his head. It was a mistake for she merely feinted for him to turn his back as Finny rushed up to knock him roughly into the ground. The sound of it didn't sound light to her. Dirt billowed upwards as his body fell and a groan escaped him. _

_Seeing enough, she moved forwards from where she stood to the side watching. Earlier that morning she and Nasuada were conversing with King Orrin in a council and when she was done she'd decided to find Eragon to spend time with him. When she reached him, she squatted, hovering over him, "Have you've been beaten enough to rest, Eragon?" _

_He gazed up at her dazed. Finny must have really hit him. Reaching out with a hand, she began to stroke the side of his face, drawing him from his dazed state. "My body feels like a dragon has stomped on me," he said after moment with a slight smile. _

_She snorted, wiping away a spot of dirt on his face, "Well, seeing as Finny is unnaturally strong even on elven terms, I would somewhat agree with that statement." She poked him lightly in the chest. "Will you get up now?" _

"_Just give me a moment, I'm still a little winded," he turned his neck to the side lightly, groaning when his muscles cramped. Arya stared at him, amused. Then after a moment of watching his uncomfortable expression did she take pity on him. With her right hand she began to rub his neck, relaxing his muscle. His eyes closed in relief. _

"_Better?" Arya asked. _

_He nodded his eyes opening to stare at her again. "Much better, you have to teach me how to do that next time," Eragon said seriously as he moved into a sitting position his hand messaging his chest lightly. _

"_If you wish to learn," her expression turned serious. "Is this necessary Eragon? The only goal you seem intent on is to batter your body." _

_He pondered her question for a moment; there was a flash of emotion in his eyes before he nodded, "I just wish to get better." He was already the best there was. To hear it from him made her raise a brow in curiosity. He saw her expression and smiled. "It is a trait that elves value, don't they? To hone their skills to the highest possible level?" _

"_It is," she agreed, brushing his brown curls from his eyes. She bent forward to kiss him slightly seeing the look in his eyes. When she pulled away, Eragon's smile had widened but it wasn't the true smile she longed to see from him. _

A loud yell brought her back to reality; Finny was thrown off of his feet and went skidding in the dirt to a stop before her, his face distorted in pain. She wanted to help, but the chains about her refused to let her up. If only she could reach Tamerlein. She glanced back at Rosalie and Desdemona. The two were moving slower than before, haltering every once and while from their injuries. Desdemona's left leg was covered in blood while Rosalie shoulder was also drenched in her blood. Though they were covered in the red liquid, she couldn't find a wound on them. It must be Bard's doing. Crawling to his feet, Finny ran to join the fray.

But it was useless for the wards that Asura had placed about himself had deflected every blow that Rosalie and Desdemona sought to inflict upon him with their swords. Finny was the only one who seemed to be able to actually harm him. But he never received the chance due to in part, the amethyst blade that he wielded.

They were tiring; Arya could see it for they had assisted King Orrin in dispatching the soldiers Galbatorix had sent and from what she could see the battle was diminishing in favor of the Varden. In time, the men would see what was happening to Eragon and would grow demoralized. They had to see to it that Asura was stopped before they could realize anything else. But how were they to stop Asura? Nothing seemed to work and he was too strong and swift for the servants to match.

Her eyes followed Eragon's form as Asura danced about the three of his attackers. He had said that Eragon's soul was consumed by his. But she wouldn't believe it. Eragon was stronger than that. He was more confident and never surrendering. She had to reach out for him. If her voice could reach him, even for just a moment it would be enough.

"Eragon!" Arya called within the ancient language willing herself to be heard. "You have to fight it Eragon! You've told me that one day you would find it within yourself to live. But to do so you can't let Asura defeat you. You have to wake up!"

"He can't hear you!" Asura said as he threw off Desdemona.

She ignored him, continuing to speak to Eragon as if he stood before her. "We still have to march to Uru'baen. We still have to defeat Galbatorix. Your wish is to have revenge against him, is it not? Eragon you must focus and reclaim what was yours!"

She saw it then, she saw the hesitation in Asura's movements, the stiffness of his body. It lasted for a few moments but it was enough to tell her that Eragon heard; that her voice had reached him wherever he was. Regaining control of his body, Asura growled seemingly cautious of her now. "Quiet elf!"

His warning fell deaf on her ears, "Return to us, Eragon. Your mother is waiting for you. Brom, Murtagh, Saphira, and all who care about you are waiting for you." Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, "I am waiting for you."

Throwing Rosalie backwards, she could see the inner struggle between the two. Asura was no longer jesting but had grown serious as Eragon fought to regain control of his body. His eyes, she saw was now brown and violet. A warmth against her side drew her attention away, the mirror she had slipped into her belt was glowing lightly.

Bard's shout caught her attention, "My lord!"

"No," when he spoke she heard Eragon's voice as well as Asura's voice. Each fighting to be heard over the other, but it was Eragon who won the battle. If only momentarily."The four of you—have to—do it now!" His body shook with effort. "Don't falter!"

Bard nodded, turning his head to Rosalie. "Now Rosalie, this is our only chance!"

The redheaded woman stood, retrieving Zar'roc from where it laid on the ground, holding it out towards Eragon. Her face was set and determined. She raised her hand and threw Zar'roc at Eragon as he stood slightly hunched. She heard shouts of dismay, her own and Murtagh's mixed within the mix. The red blade sliced through the air and tore through the wards the Asura had set about himself. A loud squelch met her ears as Zar'roc dug itself into Eragon's chest. Everything was silent. There was no sound, no motion. It was as if the Earth had stopped spinning and the world had fallen to stillness.

Clutching at the pommel of Zar'roc, an unearthly roar tore from Eragon's mouth, the earth shaking below them with such a tremendous power it was unnatural. Gusts of winds whirled about them. After a moment, everything fell silent again.

Her emerald eyes stayed glued on Eragon watching as he coughed, blood spewing from his mouth coating the ground red. The wound that Zar'roc inflicted on him was bleeding profusely. He swayed for a moment before falling backwards onto the ground where he remained motionless.

Unable to stop the fear, agony, and grief that welled up within her, Arya cried, "Eragon!"

Silence met her cry.

**Oh...what is going to happen to Eragon? Too bad because I shall not give you the answers you desire. You're just going to have to wait until I upload the next two maybe three chapters to find out what is wrong with him. Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed it and do review! **


	52. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

**And so here is the other chapter following such a dramatic ending to the last chapter. Anyways, I'm still working on the next chapter and hopefully it won't be too long or I might have to go for one more chapter before I can finish this conflict. I hope you all enjoy this, happy reading. **

_Darkness in a sea of red…_

_Was he floating? Was he falling? Or did the world stop all together? _

_He was in a void that disregarded time, that disregarded reality. His body was numb and refused to move and his eyes refused to open. Was he dead? But if this was death than why was he still here? All these questions and yet no answers to them. There were tales in which death was described as the next greatest journey as a path of amazement and peace. Were they wrong? Or had heaven's gate shut on him and had plunged him into the underworld? Was this the price he had to pay for having a weak heart? _

_Eragon did not know. The answers seemed useless now with him trapped where he was. As he floated there or falling through space, he felt a sense of loneliness wash over him. There was no one in this space devoid of time. He was all alone. Saphira was gone. His family was gone. Arya was gone. Were they in pain, he wondered. Did they resent him for leaving in such a way? In lying to them and deceiving them? _

_What was going to happen to him now? He had lost control of his body, had been consumed by the spirit within him. If logic served correctly, half of a soul can not transcend the boundaries that separated the living and the dead. No, it would disappear into nothingness. All of his life to be wasted and his soul unable to ascend to the heavens where the dead rested. _

Am I going to disappear?

_The thought was so painful to bear it was almost like a stab to the heart. His entire life he refused to shed tears, even a small amount but now when faced with such a plight it made him want to release his frustration and sorrow by use of tears. But he could not for he was dying or will become nonexistent. _

Will I be forgotten?

_That thought alone was more painful to bear. If he died and his family lived they would move on and soon enough his name will be but a wilting memory to them. Arya would move on. She had a long life ahead of her; if Galbatorix was overthrown she would find another to walk beside. Just the thought of it filled him with an excruciating pain. _

Was this the end?

_As he floated in the sea of darkness, he didn't expect to hear a reply but one came to him, deep and wise. _No, this is not the end for you Eragon Shadeslayer, this is merely the beginning. _The voice rumbled in his mind, like a rumble of thunder vast and powerful and oddly comforting. _

Who are you? _Was he friend or foe? Or something else entirely different? _

Names are powerful and I shall not reveal my name to you but know this I am here to help you Eragon.

Help me? _A spark of hope erupted in his chest. Was there a way to help him? To save him? _

Yes.

How?

_The voice didn't respond for a moment but rather let his emotions pour through him. Pride, honor, and strength seemed to flow through him like a waterfall. Then the voice spoke again, _you must believe in yourself.

_What an odd request. _Believe?

In yourself and in others, _the voice spoke quietly and calmly, despite the great power its depth held. _And do not let your fears overwhelm you for spirits such as Asura uses that fear to control your body. You are not weak.

But I lost to him…My soul was consumed by him. _Wasn't that the reason why he was unable to control his body anymore? Because his mind and soul were weak, it seemed like the most logical reason. _

You did not lose, not entirely. Before your soul is completely consumed you must break through this trance that he has set over you. You must open your eyes and regain control of your body, _the voice said again. That was easier said than done. _

Open my eyes? I don't know how to.

Face your fears, Eragon. If you can face your fears, then Asura will not be able to control you as he does now. Spirits like Asura only thrive off of another's fear and darkness.

My fears?

Yes, I'll show you the way but you must see to it that you can make it through before your soul is consumed entirely. For the sake of your loved ones, you must do this, _the voice murmured before fading away into the dark abyss that he was confined to. _

_Eragon frowned, he was unsure of what to do. What was that voice trying to tell him? Who did that voice belong to? Before he could think of anything else, he felt a strange sensation overwhelm him and to his surprise, he was able to open his eyes. Where was he? _

I was able to bring your mind out of that deep abyss but only for a moment, _the voice spoke, _are you ready, Eragon?

_Unsure of what to say, he stood in the darkness not seeing anything. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. _I am ready.

Then let us begin, Eragon Shadeslayer.

_The darkness around him began to shift and change becoming a warm and beautiful field of flowers. Had he been here before? It looked oddly familiar. Walking though the flowerbeds with caution, he made sure not to step on the flowers. What was he doing here? As he walked he saw a figure bent over the white flowers, singing lightly. _

_Approaching the figure with caution, he froze when he saw the woman had beautiful chestnut hair. It looked so familiar, rapidly approaching the person, he stopped behind her. Could she be? "Excuse me?" Eragon asked tentatively. _

_The woman glanced up and he was shell shocked to see that it was his mother, but much younger. It was as if she'd gone back in time fourteen years or so. "Yes? Do I know you?" she asked kindly buy cautiously. _

_He frowned, of course she knew him. He was her son after all. "It's me, mother. Eragon, your son." _

_Her expression became one of confusion as she stared up at him, her hands stilled over the flower that she was caressing at the moment. "Eragon?" her brown eyes gleamed with concentration. "I do not have a son by the name of Eragon. My only son is Murtagh." _

_Shock overwhelmed him for a moment as he stared at her and eventually, he felt a deep ache in his heart form. How could that be? His mother always recognized him, no matter how different he looked or sounded. But how could she say that now? "Don't you remember me? I'm yours and Brom's son, Eragon Shadeslayer." _

_She shook her head, standing to look at him, her expression returning to one of kindness. "I'm afraid that I'm sorry to say this to you Eragon, but I'm not your mother. You must've mistaken me with another. My only son with Brom is Murtagh." _

"_No!" Eragon argued, trying to keep his panic at bay, "Murtagh is Morzan's son!" _

"_Morzan's? Good lord, no," her lips curled into a frown. "You must be confusing me, really." _

_Eragon shook his head, he always recognized his mother. No matter what age she was at. He was sure of it. "I'm your son; I've lived with you for all of my life in Uru'baen under Galbatorix. Together we've lived there for a good amount of years before you left for the Varden and I followed you. Can't you remember?" _

"_I've never lived in Uru'baen. I've lived in Carvahall my entire life," his mother answered. _

_He stared at her dismayed. How could that be? That was impossible. Feeling sadness grip him, he tried to keep his pain at bay. This couldn't be real. As he stood there rooted to the spot, his mother held a white lily out to him. "I'm sorry if I've wounded you but I speak the truth, Eragon Shadeslayer." _

_He accepted the flower, though reluctantly, "It's beautiful," he murmured miserably. _

_She nodded, "They are my favorite." _

_He nodded, about to let the statement pass before he took in the sight of the flower again. It was a lily; his mother's favorite flower was not a lily. Glancing at her, he studied her for a long while. Looking past her smile and kind expression, his hand clutching the flower tightened. "You're wrong." _

"_Pardon me?" _

"_My mother, Selena, her favorite flower is not a lily but a white rose," Eragon said gaining strength as he began to realize the situation at hand. "And she would always recognize me as her son, Eragon Shadeslayer. You are not her." _

_She stared at him for a moment, and then to his shock she began to fade away into a black dust as well as the flower within his hand. Within moments, he found himself standing in the dark abyss again. Claiming his heart, he took in a deep breath. That was a heart wrenching experience. Shaking his head, he knew that the voice was waiting for him to prepare himself again. _

I'm ready.

_Without responding his surrounding shifted again and this time he found himself standing in at the base of a mountain. There was no one else in sight. A roar sounded and he felt himself tense as he saw a large figure dive forward from the sky, diving towards where he stood. Jumping backwards, he was surprised to find that it was Saphira who was before him and strapped in the saddle was Murtagh. _

"_Murtagh? What are you doing?" Eragon asked as he glanced at his brother. _

_His older brother glanced at him for a moment, his face showing his curiosity. "Do I know you?" _

_Like the first time, he felt confusion overwhelm him; they were brothers, weren't they? "You and I are brothers." _

_Murtagh stared at him for a moment before laughing, "If you were my brother, I would know. But you aren't. The only sibling I have is my cousin, Roran. I'm afraid I do not know who you are, traveler." _

"_Traveler?" he felt insulted. He was not a traveler. "Where's Thorn?"_

"_Thorn?" Murtagh laughed again. "I do not know of who this Thorn is." _

"_Of course you do, Thorn is your dragon." _

_This sent more laughter into Murtagh as his older brother stared down at him, "No, my dragon is Saphira. Can't you see that?" _

_Words seem to leave him as he though hard on the fact that Saphira was his dragon and not Murtagh's. Half of his mind knew that this wasn't real but the other half couldn't seem to shake the cold sweat that seemed to settle over him. "That's not true, Saphira is my bonded dragon. Thorn is yours." _

_His brother didn't answer but stared down at him with a smile. "You are delusion, friend. Saphira has been by my side since she'd hatched for me near the clearing that I've found her in near Carvahall." _

"_No, she hatched for me when I found her egg in Galbatorix's castle in Uru'baen on my twelfth birthday," said Eragon slowly but surely. He did not lose his memory, he knew for a fact that he didn't. Saphira was his dragon and not Murtagh's. _

_Saphira lifted her head to stare at him before slowly shaking it from side to side. As she did so, he smelt a rather odd scent coming from her. It was not her usual scent of fireweed and another pleasant odor he couldn't place. This scent was much different. Scrunching up his nose, his mind made the connection. She was Saphira and he wasn't Murtagh. _

_As soon as the thoughts formed in his mind, he found himself standing in the dark void again. He blinked unable to place how he had gotten there at the moment. Where was he again? After a moment of thinking it came back to him, he was where the voice had brought him. That was odd…why couldn't he remember that when he was facing Saphira and Murtagh? _

Because I'd suppressed that memory.

Why?

If you knew what you were facing wasn't real than you would lose the will to face your ultimate fears, _the voice spoke. Eragon nodded following his logic._ There is only one more challenge that you have left to face.

_Steeling his will, he took in a deep breath not even sure if breathing mattered where he was. _Let us be done with it then.

_The sound of birds trilling met his ears as he found himself standing in a verdant clearing. Was this Du Weldenvarden? It certainly looked like it. Tentatively approaching the trees, he froze when he heard the sound of singing. Where was that? _

_Following the beautiful voice with his acute hearing, he made sure not to trip over the roots of the trees that rested on the forest ground. The more he walked, the closer the singing sounded before he emerged into another clearing in which he found standing in the middle dressed in her usual leather clothing, Arya. _

_Eragon opened his mouth to call her name, but another voice spoke first. "Arya!" His eyes turned and emerging from the opposite end of the clearing was a male elf. He was young and slender, with a slim but powerful build. His hair was dark and his sapphire eyes bright. He was a fair elf, Eragon thought as he watched as the elf approached Arya, his feet seemingly barely touching the ground. Could that be? _

"_Faolin," Arya replied with a smile that he had rarely seen on her expression. It was beautiful for it hid nothing, all of her happiness could be seen on the surface. Faolin…that was impossible, he died! As he stood there waiting, his eyes widened in surprise as he watched the male elf approach Arya and then he did something that made his heart stop. He bent down and very lightly, kissed her. _

_He'd been furious in his life before. There was no doubt about it. But the rage that gripped him as he watched the scene before him unfold was so powerful; it made him want to burn the entire forest down. Unable to watch anymore, he strode forward into the clearing his feet crunching the dry bark beneath his boots, alerting them to his presence. _

_The two of them instantly turned, pulling hidden daggers from their sides, crouching with the intent to attack. He stopped a good ten feet before them. Faolin stared at him with hostile eyes but it was Arya he was focused on. Her emerald eyes were narrowed and her brows slanted, giving her a dangerous look. After a moment, she spoke, "Who are you?" Her voice rang with a warning; daring him to make a move that she would make his regret. _

_He frowned, did she not remember him? It was impossible! Keeping his anger at bay, he took another step forward stopping when she raised her dagger slightly. He heeded her warning. "Eragon Shadeslayer," Eragon said watching to see if his name would make any difference. It didn't. Her posture did not relax like he'd expected it to but instead she continued to watch him with a hostile and distrusting expression. _

_Trying not to let her reaction upset him, he glanced around for Eridor. Maybe he was nearby and could tell him what was wrong with Arya. A minute passed and he still couldn't spot the dragon. "Where is Eridor?" Eragon asked her. _

_ Her lips thinned as she considered him for a moment, "Who is Eridor?" _

_That wasn't right, Arya would never forget about Eridor. And he was sure she would never forget about him either. They were mates, a bonded pair. But why hadn't she seen that he was Eragon? "Are you feeling well, Arya?" Eragon asked as he took another tentative step towards her. _

"_Do not come closer," this time it was Faolin who spoke, his eyes displaying an intense expression. Eragon's frown deepened as he stopped mid-step, staring at the elf. Who was he to tell him what to do? _

"_I do not know who you are but I warn you that if you do not leave, I will not falter in my attacks," Arya warned. His heart thumped rapidly in his chest. She still couldn't recognize him. Why? He didn't understand. What had he done? He reached out towards her, hesitating as he thought of her and Faolin. Was she happy? Unable to think of anything, he sighed tiredly rubbing his face. He didn't know how he'd gotten here but since he was standing before her, he wasn't going to back down. _

_Moving forward, he saw Faolin move slightly from the corner of his eyes and instinctively jumped back nearly missing a stab to his side. Gathering his anger from before, he waited for another stab to follow. It did within seconds. Faster than Faolin, he reached out and gripped the elf's wrist as he twisted his body away from the dagger letting it pass through air. As he twisted, he brought his foot up and roughly kicked him in the gut, sending him flying backwards into a tree and knocking him unconscious. _

_Good, with him out of the way, Eragon could speak freely to Arya now. When he turned back to her, he blinked when he couldn't find her. Where had she gone? His question was answered when he heard movement to his left. Turning, he brought up a hand to grab her arm when it went swinging down on him, the tip of the dagger gleaming in the light of the sun. Holding her there, he felt pain slowly build up in him. Why was she doing this? Did she really intend to kill him? "Why are you doing this Arya?" _

_Then to his surprise, she growled. Never had he heard such a sound from her. Unsettled, he grunted when she twisted and elbowed him roughly in the side of his head. Losing his grip on her, she shook herself free before coming at him again. Refusing to hurt her, he remained on the defense until an opening could present itself to him as she attacked him. _

_Shuffling his feet backwards, he waited as she went to stab his waist, her left side unguarded. Immediately, he moved in and gripped both her hands. He twisted the knife from her right hand but she refused to admit defeat, trying to use her leg to unbalance him. Eragon didn't want to resort to throwing her to the ground but that was his only choice. As he did so, he hurriedly moved to grab her hands to still them in his iron grip and with his own legs, he pinned hers to the ground. _

_She twisted underneath him but was unable to free herself. "Arya, calm yourself. Can't you remember who I am?" _

_Her emerald eyes burned as they gazed up at him, "I've never once set my eyes on you." _

_He stared down at her, how was that possible? "You're lying." _

"_I've not." Her words came out in the ancient language, harsh and biting. He stared down at her for a moment. She'd spoke the truth. Momentarily stunned, he stared at her, his eyes catching sight of something. Her eyes weren't the dark emerald that he'd come to love but instead a light emerald. As he stared at her, he felt the answer come to him. She wasn't his Arya. _

_Again, he found himself standing in the dark void, his heart pounding from the last encounter. That was by far the most heart wrenching. _Am I done?

You are.

Then what do I do now?

_The voice did not answer him but instead a different one sounded. _"Don't let him win, Eragon." _It was Arya's voice. It sounded strained and far away. _"You're stronger than that. I know you are."

_His heart pounded in his chest as he circled the spot where he stood. Where was she? Was she here? _It is time for you to return to your mind and body, Eragon. _No, wait! Arya was calling for him. But before he could do anything else, he felt a tug on his limbs and then the familiar sensation of falling washed over him again. _

_What was going on? _

_Her voice didn't reach him until he felt as if a century had passed since he'd last heard her. _"Eragon!" _she sounded muffled to him, but he heard her. _. "You have to fight it Eragon! You've told me that one day you would find it within yourself to live. But to do so you can't let Asura defeat you. You have to wake up!"

_Wake up? He gritted his teeth, trying to will his eyes to open. It was too difficult. _. "We still have to march to Uru'baen. We still have to defeat Galbatorix. Your wish is to have revenge against him, is it not? Eragon you must focus and reclaim what was yours!"

_That was right; he still had to take his revenge on Galbatorix. He wasn't afraid, not anymore but what would that matter if he died right then and there? Feeling a strong feeling of determination wash up within him, he felt his fingers twitch light and his legs stiffen. Fight. He had to fight Asura. He had to fight his own darkness. _

_He was a fool to suspect such foolish thoughts. His mother would never abandon him for Murtagh. Saphira would always stay by his side and Murtagh, no matter how foolish he was, was there to help him. And Arya…he loved her. With every fiber in his being. He loved her and he knew that she was content and happy with being with him. _

_She spoke again and this time, her voice was strong and clear, ringing forth from the darkness._ "Return to us, Eragon. Your mother is waiting for you. Brom, Murtagh, Saphira, and all who care about you are waiting for you."_ Wait for me…_

"I am waiting for you."

_Breaking from the darkness that seemed to encase, him he saw the dim light waiting for him and reached for it. _

Gasping, he groaned at the immense pain that his mind felt. Where was he? Letting his eyes travel about him, he found himself standing once again on the dirt covered ground where they were fighting. What was going on?

Lying about fifty yards away, he saw Arya and the others trapped against the ground, help in what seemed to be the confining grips of claws fashioned from dirt.

Bard's shout caught his attention, "My lord!"

Turning his eyes to his servant, he tried to keep the pain at bay as Asura tried to batter him into submission to gain control of his body once more. He wasn't going to let him. With all of his might, he tried to subdue the spirit if only for a moment to keep him at bay.

"No," when he spoke his voice was his as well as Asura's voice. Each fighting to be heard over the other, but it was Eragon who won the battle. If only momentarily. "The four of you—have to—do it now!" His body shook with effort. Any moment and he was going to lose to Asura once more. "Don't falter!"

Bard nodded, turning his head to Rosalie. "Now Rosalie, this is our only chance!"

The redheaded woman stood, retrieving Zar'roc from where it laid on the ground, holding it out towards Eragon. Her face was set and determined. She raised her hand and threw Zar'roc at Eragon as he stood slightly hunched. He heard shouts of dismay, Arya's and Murtagh's were the ones that tore at his heart. But he must, there was no other way. The red blade sliced through the air and tore through the wards the Asura had set about himself. A loud squelch met his ears as he felt the cool blade of Zar'roc tear through his chest before reappearing through the middle of his back.

Almost immediately, the pain seemed to double in his head, nearly incapacitating him. Clutching at the pommel of Zar'roc with shaky fingers, an unearthly roar tore from Eragon's mouth, the earth shaking below them with such a tremendous power it was unnatural. Gusts of winds whirled about them. After a moment, everything fell silent again.

His vision flashing red and black before him, he felt his chest burn and his throat constrict before he coughed spewing blood from his lips. _Am I dying? _The wound that Zar'roc inflicted on him was bleeding profusely. Swaying for a moment, he was unable to stop his own fall as he fell to the ground, a sudden coldness washing over his limbs, his vision blurring.

Vaguely he heard Arya's cry which was filled with such agony, fear, and grief, he wanted to reach out to soothe her. But he didn't have the energy to barely keep his eyes open for some reason. The echoes of her cry sounded dimly in his mind as he stared up at the open blue sky.

"Eragon!"

**Did you all like it? I wanted to give you guys the perspective of the enternal mindset of Eragon at the moment but this isn't the actual mental conflict between him and Asura. That would be the next chapter I think. Or maybe the one after that. Besides that do review (oh, and what's the deal with coolio? lol) and I'll have the next chapter posted as soon as I think it's worthy enough for you all to read. **


	53. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

**Anyways the next chapter is up! I saw your reviews and decided that its time to update the next chapter. I hope that you enjoyed the last chapter but from what I read you all seem to be dying from suspense and my cliffhanger twice was somewhat cruel. I hope that this chapter shall make up for it! Please read and don't forget to review. **

No one spoke. No one moved.

Vaguely, she felt the hold on her disappear as the dirt fell to the ground, the magic binding it together gone as Asura had fallen. Without a second thought, she stood running towards where Eragon laid, Tamerlein scratching against the ground in her lax grip. When she neared him, a cry fought its way forth as she took in his appearance. He was lying in a large pool of blood that was soaking the ground a crimson red. Zar'roc was lodged firmly in his chest, the iridescent red blade gleaming. His face was uninjured but it was coated in blood and a small line was trickling down his chin. His eyes, she saw, was the soft brown that she had grown to adore. They were clear and lucid. And when they found her, she blinked her own eyes itching.

Falling to her knees by his side, she laid Tamerlein down against the ground as her hands moved towards Zar'roc. If she pulled out the blade, he was going to bleed to death. His wound was just too great. Was it possible? Could she save him? Of course, she could save him. She had to. Hearing Blodhgarm's approached she lifted her head, "No, go see to the dragons," she ordered her voice strained against the wave of emotions she was trying to hold at bay. If she lost it now, she wouldn't be able to help Eragon.

They stared at her for a moment before assenting, acknowledging her silent request. Murtagh hesitated slightly, but at her expression he turned to continue in the direction where Thorn laid. She turned her attention back to Eragon and reached out to touch his wound, the one on his shoulder and healed it before moving her attention to his forearm, healing it as well. By the time she was done, her hands were coated in his blood.

When she returned to the fatal injury caused by Zar'roc, she hesitated. There was no way to save someone from such an injury. His injury was far worse than Ajihad's back in Tronjheim. The sword had pierced his internal organs to the point that it was impossible to heal. The itching in her eyes increased and she felt an overwhelming amount of pain batter her heart.

A warm and sticky hand reached up to still her shaking hands. She glanced down to find Eragon's pale hand, gripping hers, his eyes staring intently at her. His lips parted but as he tried to speak, a choking sound reached her ears. He coughed before trying again, "I heard you," he said it as if he was unaware of the red blade that impaled him.

"You fought him off," she said, her voice thick. She blinked and found herself gripping Eragon's hands desperately.

"Just for the moment," he spoke and more blood came pouring from his lips. She watched as he took in a deep breath, wincing slightly when it caused Zar'roc to move slightly.

"Does it hurt, Eragon?" very softly, she rested her hands atop of his chest. His heartbeat was weak. Her own heart began to pound in her chest. It felt as if she was drowning and there was no way to the surface for air. Eragon was dying. There wasn't a way to save him despite the hope that she'd held that they would come across a cure for him. But he was too ill for her to be able to do so. She felt the corner of her lips curl downwards as she tried to prevent a cry from escaping.

If she lost it now, it would alarm Eragon and she would be too far gone to do anything of use. He didn't answer her but instead turned his head upwards as if there was something in the sky that seemed to interest him. Brushing his hair from his eyes, she spoke softly, "What is it Eragon?"

"The sky…" he blinked, turning back to her. "It's…beautiful."

She nodded, "It is."

He took in another breath, his chest heaving as his lungs fought to draw in air. He winced again, his eyes moving to Zar'roc. After a moment, he spoke again his voice soft but clear, "Arya…Zar'roc… remove Zar'roc."

Arya stared at him. Remove Zar'roc? If she did than he was going to bleed to his death. "I will not," she said, her voice pained. She wasn't going to quicken his death. Never. His brows furrowed lightly as he stared at her causing her to avert her gaze. His hands tightened as they held hers.

"Please."

His quiet request spoke volumes to her and she felt her own mind agree with him. It was his choice, his decision. Like when he had lied to her about the degree of his illness. She shook her head lightly. Now was not the time to think about it. Not staring at Eragon, she nodded slowly, releasing his hand to place it down beside his side.

Reaching out with her right hand, she gripped the pommel of Zar'roc, taking a deep breath. Then with a quick flick of her wrist, drew Zar'roc out of his chest. She heard his body move as the blade made its way out and a cry of agony met her ears followed by a squelch as the red liquid sprayed itself on her, coating her neck, arms, and hands in his blood. Sick to the stomach, she tossed the red blade to the side. It was a sign of her own misery.

Her hands immediately move to his chest to staunch the bleeding but the liquid was escaping through her fingers and coating the ground beneath him red. The puddle had grown drenching her knees in the dark liquid. Staining Tamerlein as well as it lay beside her. His breathing had grown ragged and his chest heaved frantically for air.

As she kneeled beside him, hovering over him, she felt something within her break. Her eyes stung with a film of tears and against her will, one leaked from the corner of her eyes and fell onto his damaged chest. His face was pale underneath the coat of blood it was drenched in as he stared up at her. His expression was no longer pained but at peace…almost accepting.

"Arya…"

She shook her head. It hurt, she thought, it hurt so much. Never did she think that she would lose another person dear to her to Galbatorix. First Glenwing and Faolin. Now, she was going to lose Eragon too. The agony of war, she was yet facing it another time.

She blinked when she felt his right hand, now growing cold; reach up to caress her cheek. Don't go, Eragon. She thought as she stared down at him. "I'm sorry." No, she didn't want to hear it. The goodbye that he wanted to say. As she tried to focus that was when she realized the warmth pressing against her side. Glancing down at the mirror that she'd slipped within her belt, she was surprised to find that it was glowing, the surface a beautiful blue.

Slipping it out of her belt, she gasped when it burned her lightly. Dropping the mirror, her hand which was drenched in Eragon's blood, had smeared the mirror with the crimson liquid. And to her surprise, the mirror seemed to glow even stronger as the glass surface seemed to react to the blood, absorbing it. What is it?

Eragon's sudden gasp drew her attention away from the mirror. She turned to him, his hand was clutching at his chest, over his heart, as if he was intent on clawing it out. His eyes, she saw flashed from brown to a purple and blue before back. "Eragon!" she reached out to him. What was happening to him? What more could hurt him?

While she tried to calm him, the mirror which lay on the ground began to glow uncontrollably as the puddle of Eragon's blood had finally reached it, drenching the beautiful object in red.

_Break it open. _

_What?_ Where had that presence come from? That voice. Her eyes moved back and forth as she searched for the presence in her mind. But she wasn't able to pinpoint it. Then she felt it again, a vast and overwhelming power that held a multitude of voices and thoughts grasp at her mind, forcing her to their will.

She felt her hand move to grip Tamerlein. She felt her arm brought up in the air and arched down as the emerald blade sliced the mirror in half releasing a force so great that it was enough to knock Tamerlein from her hand. As soon as the mirror broke, the presence was gone. A loud screeching wind burst forth from the tiny object shooting into the air with tongues of blue flames. Without a second thought, she moved to cover Eragon who seemed to have fallen unconscious. What was going on? Straining her neck to watch the azure flames shoot into the sky a hundred feet into the air, she watched as it arched downwards before flying straight towards her and Eragon.

Closing her eyes as she expected the flames to burn her, she gasped when it passed through her, her vision fading into black as she toppled over and to the ground.

_Falling…_

_She was falling. Where was she? As she thought, she felt her heart jump in her chest. Eragon! Where was Eragon? Her eyes flew open as she gasped, her panic gripping her at the heart. Arya found herself staring at the withered stalks of rain lilies. This field of flowers…she'd seen it before. Moving to her feet, she frowned when she found that she was alone in a field of dead rain lilies. _

_Was she in Eragon's mind? Was this the same field as she'd walked in with him? It seemed highly unlikely seeing that the field was dead and dry. The flowers were wilted and withered as far as she could see. "Eragon?" she called into the void. _

_There was no reply. This had to be his mind, but the state of it alarmed her. Was this Asura's doing? Hesitantly moving forward, she frowned when she heard the flowers crunched underneath her boots. It was a most saddening sight to behold. _

_Pushing forward, she thought back to the mirror. What was stored in it? It was so powerful and warm, those blue flames. And though it was the first time that she'd seen that object, it held an oddly familiar sense to it. Like she'd known what it was all this time. And what was that presence in her mind? It was so strong and powerful, it made her pause. But whoever it was, that person was gone now and it didn't matter if she pondered about the fact anymore. _

_She had to focus on finding Eragon and saving him. If she didn't, she was going to lose him, this she knew with a certainty. As she walked, she felt herself grow lost. There was no other way, for however long she continued the field of flowers continued. After what seemed like a good deal of time, did she stop unsure of whether or not to continue. _

Where are you Eragon?

_ That was when she heard a small cry, whirling about, she tried to find the source of the crying. There was no one in sight but she was positive that it was towards her right. After a brief contemplation, she moved forward towards the sound. It didn't take her long until she came upon a young boy barely eleven or twelve crouched in the field sniffling. _

_His brown hair was a mess but his fine clothes struck a chord in her. She had seen this boy before. In Eragon's memories. She was positive of it. Reaching out to him, she gently laid her hand on his shoulder, "Eragon?" _

_He lifted his head, his tears abating as he saw her. It truly was Eragon, though younger. She stumbled slightly when he launched himself at her legs, his arms wrapping themselves around her as if he didn't want to let go. "Don't leave me!" _

_Bewildered, she stared down at him. "Leave you?" _

_He nodded, the movement causing his head to rub against her leg. "I've been alone for so long," he murmured miserably. Arya stared down at him. Was he truly Eragon or a figment of Eragon's memories? But how could that be? Pulling away from him slightly, she knelt so that she was eye level with him, staring into his lost brown eyes. _

"_Alone?" asked Arya softly. _

_He nodded, his bottom lip trembling, "It was all dark and scary," his voice shook, "I couldn't escape." _

_Her heart tightened at his revelation before her mind registered what it was that he'd said. Escape? Glancing back at him, she felt her eyes widened. Was this the other half of Eragon's soul? That would make sense, when he was twelve, Saphira had hatched for him and that was when Asura was bound to his body. That meant that Jeremiah had half of his soul and heart all of this time. He was using its magic! _

_Eyes returning to the Eragon that stood before her, she reached out to caress his cheek which was damp from his tears, "It must have been terribly frightening for you." _

_His brown eyes stared at her, on the brink of tearing up again. A passion like never before seemed to consume her as she pulled Eragon to her hugging him. "I won't leave you," said Arya determined, "You won't be alone ever again." _

_She felt his breathing hitch against her shoulder before his hands came up to wrap around her neck, crying in earnest. For a child to feel so alone…She felt her anger grow and her eyes sting as she held him as he cried. After a moment he seemed to quiet and was merely intent on holding onto her. Seeing as he'd calmed down significantly, she made to pull away stopping when he shook his head against her shoulder. With a small smile, she bent down to pick him up and cradled him against her. Her supernatural strength made him feel as light as a feather. _

"_Let's go find your other half," she said to Eragon. _

_He peeked up at her, his eyes were red but he nodded. Glancing about her, she frowned when the situation at hand was brought forth. How was she going to leave Eragon's mind? As she stood there a thought, a strange movement caught her eye. A hundred yards away, the wilted flowers began to crumble into black dust, the surrounding slowly fading away into a white void. _

_Her grip on Eragon tightened. What was happening? As it seemed to make its way towards them, she turned and with long strides began to run. His mind was falling apart. There was no doubt about it. As she ran with Eragon in her arms, she saw it a strange shift in the air before them and without thinking, she dove into it. _

_Stumbling slightly with the extra weight in her arms, she straightened herself when she saw that she was standing in a rather strange place. A vast red ocean stretched as far as she could see and the gray sky made her cautious. Ignoring the ominous feeling that she was getting, she stared at the odd ebony tentacles that protruded from the surface of the red ocean. Where was she? Off in the distance a figure straightened from its crouched position causing her to mistake it at first as a tentacle. The figure moved towards them slightly stumbling, its gait uneven as if one of its legs was broken or strained. _

_As it moved closer, she saw the familiar chestnut hair but as he lifted his head, she was met with blue and purple eyes. Her lips thinned as she watched Asura move forward, injured she realized from the battle earlier. Her grip on Eragon tightened. "Welcome to my mind, Arya," when he spoke it was unnatural. His voice was strained and it gurgled every once and a while as his breath hitched. _

_She tensed, "Where is Eragon?" _

_He stared at her for a moment his eyes wide and dilated as he laughed. It was grating on her nerves to hear his demented laugh. After a while he pointed down towards the red liquid that they stood on, "Consumed by my madness, by my soul." _

_Her eyes darted to the surface of the red liquid unable to make anything out before returning to Asura. She didn't trust him enough to take her eyes off of him. "He's too far gone to save." Asura grinned, "And even if you did, his body is too damaged. If only you knew what he'd planned, Arya. You might have been able to save him." _

_Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, but she kept her mouth firmly shut refusing to give into his taunting and remarks. "What will you do if you did save him?" Asura asked, with a grin as he bent down to twist his leg into place making a noise that made her frown. _

_She didn't reply to his question but instead stared at him. She wasn't going to let her anger be drawn out. It was true that she was beyond frustration when it came to the fact that Eragon had lied to her but she wasn't going to let that blind her. Not when his existence was at stake. "That feels much better," Asura said as his eyes traveled to Eragon who was clinging to her. "I have to thank you for bringing his other half here for me, it makes things much easier." _

_She took a step back, "What are you talking about?" _

_Asura stared at her for a moment before shrugging, "Seeing as you'll not make it out of my mind alive, I don't see the harm in telling you. You see, his other half is still young and as such a vibrant energy source," he pointed to the child in her arms, "If I can consume him than I could easily repair the damage those wretched servants of his did." _

_If he thought that she was simply going to hand over the other half of Eragon, he was wrong. Asura held his hands up to her, "May I have him?" his smile made her even more cautious. _

"_Never," came her reply. _

_He wasn't fazed but laughed, shaking his head, "You've forgotten how the game works, Arya. Now that you're in my mind, you'll have to play by my rules." He grinned and whistled lightly. _

_A movement from the corner of her eyes caught her attention. She jumped backwards, dodging the grab of a black tentacle as it fought to enclose around her feet. With Eragon in her hands it was difficult for her to fight him, leaving the only optional available to her: run. Dodging another tentacle, she turned to put as much distance as she could between her and Asura. _

_She didn't get far however when a barrier of tentacles began to ring them in. An image flashed in her mind and for a moment she saw a ring of fire surrounding her as she fought to escape Durza's grasp. She heard his approach rather than saw him. "Running won't help you, Arya." _

_Turning to face him, she felt Eragon's grip on her tightened as he beheld the Asura. Then he glanced back at her. Whatever he seemed to see in her expression had strengthened his resolve to carry out his next action. "I trust you," he said with a small smile. _

_What? Arya watched as he began to slowly fade away, his physical body disappearing leaving a glowing azure orb of light. This was the true appearance of the other half of Eragon's soul. Before Asura could make a grab for it, the orb of light flew towards her before disappearing into her chest. Gasping at the suddenness of it, she felt a slight presence cocooned in her mind, waiting for the moment to leave. _

"_I didn't know a soul was that clever," Asura growled, staring at her. "No matter, I will have the other half even if that means I have to consume yours as well!" _

_With that he lunged at her, his teeth bared in a rather feral smile. Her hands free to do what she wished, she rushed at him. The energy of the half of Eragon's soul was pulsing through her mind and veins; it was more than enough to defeat Asura. _

_Dodging a swipe to her head, she brought her hand up to slam it into the bottom of his chin roughly. The impact of her blow sent him flying backwards but he didn't wait to land on his back to continue his assault but rather flipped to land evenly on his feet, snapping his neck back and forth. _

_He smiled at her. _

_Not letting him unsettle her, she moved forward only to be stopped when she felt a violent tug on her ankles. She had let her guard down for a mere second and that was all he needed to put her at a disadvantage. With a violent tug, she tried to pull herself free of the tentacles. But they didn't budge. Before she could do anything she felt a hard blow to her shoulder. _

_As she was trying to regain her bearings, the tentacles gave another tug throwing her thirty yards. Landing her feet, she skidded to a halt just barely bringing her hands up in time to deflect another blow. Seeing an opening she brought up her leg to kick him, effectively hitting him in the gut. But it wasn't enough to kill him. How was she supposed to kill a spirit? The only way she could do so was to force it from Eragon's body. _

_Rushing forward, she brought up her hand and to say bluntly, punched him roughly in the jaw, her lips forming words in the ancient language. She didn't know what she said but she felt it again, the strong presence in her mind, forming the words on her lips. Three words came out that she couldn't comprehend but it worked for Asura gave a loud scream before disappearing. _

_Was it over? Her energy rapidly declining, she frowned when she felt herself sink into the red sea. What was going on? Then it came back to her. Eragon was underneath the surface consumed by Asura's soul and though he may be gone, his presence was still great enough to keep a hold on Eragon's soul. Ignoring the danger, she readily dove under the crimson sea. _

_ For some reason, there was no need to hold in her breath underneath the water and her eyes didn't sting. Continuing downward, she felt a warm tug in her heart; his soul must be realizing the other's proximity. Using her hands and feet to propel her deeper, she casted her mind out for Eragon in the darkness. Faintly, she felt him deep below her. _

_She didn't how long it was that she swam but after what seemed to be an eternity did she finally see him. He was falling downward unconscious to his surroundings. She swam towards him and as she reached him, extended her arms outwards to wrap them about his neck, hugging his head towards her shoulder. _

Eragon, you have to wake up.

_She gently nudged his thoughts willing him to open his eyes and break through the madness about them. There was a faint response but otherwise his consciousness remained in its deep slumber. Her grip on him tightened as they fell. _

Open your eyes, Eragon; _she called out to him as the warmth in her grew stronger trying to help her draw him out. Her own mind was beginning to succumb to the enveloping darkness as they fell. She felt him stir against her. _

_Just a little more and he would be awake and able to break free. Lowering every barrier to her mind she allowed theirs to intertwine into such a degree that it felt like she was exposing herself inside out. She heard the faint music of his own mind which seemed to grown stronger as hers tried to awaken him. Their feelings became mixed, swirling about each other, encompassing one another. _

Eragon…_her heart spoke volumes compared to the words that her mind was trying to form. The tender feelings that she'd come to harbor for him, the pain at his deception, the grief at his situation, and the vast affection she felt for him. _I love you.

_She blinked trying fight against the heaviness in her eyelids as they continued to fall. That was when she felt him move. His arms came up to wrap themselves about her waist. And she felt him turn them about swimming towards the surface of the water. The warmth in her grew to an insurmountable heat suffusing her entire being. _

_Falling against the surface of the water, she frowned when her eyes became clear and focused. Where was she? Getting to her feet, her head turned to take in her surroundings. She was in the same place as before. But it was different. The water was a tranquil sapphire that sparkled and sprinkled over its surface were white rose petals. The sky wasn't gray anymore but instead a warm blue. This was Eragon's mind. _

_Turning about, she found Eragon collapsed on the surface of the water and beside him was his younger self, the other half of his heart. She moved towards the boy tentatively. He was hovering over Eragon with an expression of curiosity. When he heard her approach, he glanced up, "He's sleeping." _

_She nodded, glancing at Eragon for a moment longer before returning to the younger version of him. "How are you feeling?" she asked as she crouched before him. _

"_Confused," he said with a slightly embarrassed expression. "But I'm not alone." _

"_Yes, you're not alone," agreed Arya. Then she glanced back at Eragon. What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to reunite his soul with his other half? _You must be the bridge to connect them.

_She flinched as the multitude of minds entered her own once more. But she was not foolish enough to try to attack the person head on. However it was, she had to trust that they didn't mean her any harm seeing as they hadn't made any attempt to do so. _I do not understand.

_The presence paused before continuing, _his soul has been apart from its original body for too long now. So long that the soul is still that of a child while the body is that of an adult. There must be a bridge to connect the two without permanently harming Eragon.

How?

If your feelings for him are strong enough, than your soul can bridge that connection between the two. But I warn you, Arya Drottningu that it is irreversible if you attempt to do so.

_She blinked as she stared down at Eragon, _what do you mean?

To bridge a connection between both halves, it will use your own soul as the building block and if it works than your soul will also be connected to his, _the presence paused in its explanation before continuing, _your soul will be the one to help chain his own soul to this reality. If you don't than his body will die and his soul will disappear.

Disappear?

Two halves of one soul cannot transcend the boundaries between the living and the dead. The gates to heaven will be closed to him and he will disappear from this world in its entirety.

_She blinked; never would she allow that to happen. Glancing at Eragon for one more time, she nodded to herself. _Let us do it.

Are you sure? If your soul becomes connected to him than you will be unable to separate it.

If that's what it takes to rid him of Asura and save him then I will do it, _she said with determination. She was willing to do anything if that was what it took to save Eragon. _

Very well, _the presence didn't leave her but had quieted allowing her a moment to speak to the younger Eragon. Reaching out with her hand, she laid it atop of his head with a small smile, "Do you know who he is?" she gestured to the older Eragon. _

_He nodded, "My other half," _

"_He's been waiting a long time for you to return to him," Arya said quietly as she watched the younger boy. He nodded again, his eyes bright as he regarded her with a curious expression. _

"_Am I going to disappear?" his questions was faint but in it she hear the fear in his tone. He was afraid, she knew, of being alone again of disappearing into Eragon completely and losing himself. _

_She reached out to brush her lips gently against his brow, "No, you will not disappear but you will be whole again and never alone," she answered, her voice soft. _

_Eragon stared at her, his eyes watering, "I'm ready." _

As am I, _she spoke directly to the presence in her mind. She felt it stir reaching forward into the deepest reach of her heart and mind and unlocking the door that held her essence. It was an experience she'd never felt before. She felt like she was floating from her body into a warmth that was familiar and welcoming. _

_No one else was there but Eragon. She felt his soul wrap about hers, intertwining with a part of her own soul as it reached out towards the other half of his soul. When the two came together, it nearly made her implode. Part of her soul was wrapped deep within Eragon's, now a part of him and she could feel a small part of him wrapped within her own soul. _

_Together they spun about one another, their souls dancing in and out of the other, chaining each other down to one another. The fiery dance continued taking them to a new level of intimacy that they'd yet to achieve._

_Then they began to slow until she felt her soul return to her own body, safe in the physical vessel that sheltered it. But as her soul parted from Eragon's she heard a soft murmur of words that was undoubtedly his, ring in her mind and soul. _

I love you, Arya.

**So this is the ending. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. I absolutely loved this! Anyways, this conflict is resolved but the explanations will have to wait until the next chapter. I know, I'm cruel but I love it. The suspense that I can put you guys in! I can't promise an update tomorrow but there will be one this week. **


	54. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

**I'm so sorry for the delayed update but this weekend is Asian New Years and my family is getting ready to celebrate. Anyways like I promised here is the long awaited chapter. It's not like the last few in that the angst and uncertainties are gone but I hope you'll all enjoy this. **

Before he woke, he knew that there was something different. He felt lighter and whole. It was a rather odd experience. Feeling a soft hand touch his cheek, he heard murmuring weaving in and out of his rather pleasant state. Then a voice was calling for him.

"Eragon."

It was Arya, he was positive that the voice calling for him was hers.

"Eragon," she called again.

Instead of waking, he tried to burrow deeper into the soft surface that he laid on. He didn't want to wake. Not now when he was having such a pleasant dream.

He heard another voice snort at his action, "You've slept enough, Eragon Shadeslayer. Awaken already before I slap you senseless!" There was a soft murmur of disagreement to the threat but he was not frightened in the least.

Instead, he was annoyed beyond anything. This was not a dream for he would never allow Angela into a dream that already had Arya in it. Blinking, he frowned when a soft light flooding in from the small flap in the tent entrance hit his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

He was lying on a rather comfortable cot and it took his to realize that the tent that he was in was his own tent. The small table in the center was clustered with weapons: his sword, bow, and quiver. And occupying the stool next to his bed was Arya. But she seemed different for some reason. Hovering over him with a suspicious bowl in her hand that was steaming a nasty murky yellow was Angela the herbalist.

She was staring down at him with bright eyes and a faint smile, "And look who decides to join us from the dead," she said reaching down to widen his right eye with her thumb and forefinger. He grimaced as the air stung his eye, relieved when she let go. "Everything seems quite normal with you." Her eyes darted to Arya, who was pointedly ignoring her stare, "At least on the outside."

Holding the bowl under his nose, he frowned as she hit his lips rather roughly with the object, "Drink up then, you'll need it if you want to go down the road of swift recovery." Trusting the herbalist more than he should, he reached out to take the bowl from her hands before drinking the liquid. He nearly gagged and was about to toss it out before another hand reached out to hold the bowl steady against his lips. Knowing that it was Arya who was assisting him he reluctantly continued to down the substance. With a great gulp, he swallowed the remaining drops nearly retching as the foul taste of rotten eggs and spoiled milk erupted in his mouth.

"Good, good," said Angela as she retrieved the bowl to set it aside before handing him a wineskin filled with water. Gratefully taking it, he took a long drink until he felt like he was bursting from the seams with the extra amount of water intake. "How are you feeling?"

He coughed before answering, his voice creaking from disuse, "Different."

Angela nodded, thoughtful. "As it should be." She turned and began to bustle about his tent. "I must say when I called your brother an idiot, I didn't expect for you to take on the ropes. That was the most ridiculous request I've heard in my entire life. Honestly, what were you expecting when you asked that of your servants?"

He blinked staring at her, "How do you know?"

"I know everything," said Angela with a reprimanding look. "Dying does not make the problem go away, Eragon. Surely you knew that."

"It seemed like the best possible solution at that time," said Eragon simply as he coughed trying to clear his throat again. "Where are they? My servants?"

"Waiting patiently outside for you to awake, it's been a rather long two days," said Angela. His eyes widened as he stared at her. Two days? He'd been unconscious for two days? It felt as if he was out for only an hour or so. "Your injuries were nowhere near light, if it wasn't for Arya you would've been teetering on the edge of existence."

He frowned. What did Arya do? Before he could ask the short curly haired woman anymore questions, she flashed him another bright smile. "You be a good dear now and rest up. Or try to after your elf is done with you and then your dragon, mother, and your liege lord. My, my, my, we may just have to bury you after all once they have their way."

Somewhat alarmed he watched as she threw open the tent flap before bustling away as if she was in a great hurry leaving him with Arya. Throughout the whole time that he was awake she hadn't said a word to him nor had she looked at him. Feeling rather cautious, he moved to sit up flinching slightly when his chest burned in protest. Pulling the sheets back slightly, he saw that his entire torso was bandaged.

He hadn't expected that. Reaching forward lightly, he touched his chest wincing when he felt sharp daggers of pain erupt in the area where he had touched it. It hurt quite a lot. "Blodhgarm's managed to heal the damage but you have to give it time or else the wound will open up again."

It was the first time she had spoken to him when he had waked. He turned to her to find that she was now facing him her eyes indiscernible. What was he supposed to do? Where were Eridor and Saphira when he needed them. Wait…where were they?

"The dragons are hunting, they'll be back soon," answered Arya her emerald eyes showing signs of exhaustion. Ignoring the pain, he moved into a sitting position as he turned to face Arya. There were no secrets now. Not anymore. "The battle with Galbatorix's men has been over and the Varden has been recovering since. Your cousin, Roran, had decided that he would marry once you've awakened and are well enough to attend."

He frowned as she was deliberately avoiding the subject at hand. Not one for patience, he stared at her with such an openness it would have been insulting if it weren't for the fact that he was her mate. "And what of you Arya?" Eragon asked softly.

He saw the skin around her eyes tighten and her hands shake slightly. He knew her long enough to know that these were signs that showed that she was immensely distressed. "What will you have me say?" her words were those in the ancient language and they came out harsh and biting. "That everything is well and merry?"

He stared at her; he had only seen her mad once and that was after he had sworn his first meeting with the council of elders. She seemed very close, he thought, to hitting him. But if she did, it would immensely relieve him. Trying to seek words to expression his feelings, did Eragon tentatively speak, "I am sorry for deceiving you about my condition," he stared into Arya's eyes unwavering, "And I am sorry for the request at the time, it seemed to be the only option left available to me."

She sighed before standing to pace before him. If she was angry before, she was furious at the moment. He had never seen her so agitated. "If you went forth with your condition we would've been able to help you. Is it too much to let go of your hubris to acknowledge that, Eragon? That sometimes even you would need help?"

He felt his own temper being to rise, "I thought what I was doing was best. How could you have helped me?"

She turned to him, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she had a migraine. "Anyway I could have if you had just let me. How did you think Saphira felt when she heard from the others of your foolish request? How do you think your brother felt?"

He frowned, knowing that she was right in saying so. "You were being selfish," Arya said.

"I was not," he denied, resolute in the fact that what he was trying to accomplish was for the benefit of his loved ones. "I was trying to protect the people I love from the monster I was becoming. There was no other way around it Arya. I was running out of time!"

"Be that as it may," she said her voice low and dangerous, "You should not have lied so. How do you think relationships work if you base them off of lies? What happens to the trust that others have for you when they find out that they'd been lied to?" He blinked seeing the toll of the past few days on Arya. It looked as if she needed more rest than he did.

"Arya—"

"No!" He instantly quieted, he had dealt with angered women much of his life, from his mother to Saphira to his servants, and he knew when an inevitable explosion was coming. This was one of those times, though it was rarely expected. "Why are you always so reluctant to allow others to help you? Why do you always have to take on the burden by yourselves? Do you believe us incompetent?" he opened his mouth to protest but she thunderously continued as if trying to vent all of her pent up frustration. "Did you not believe in your own future? Is that why you choose death over living?"

"That's not true!" he exclaimed, surprised that she would even think that. "I would never give up living knowing that the people I leave behind would suffer beyond anything else."

"Then why?" she asked quietly.

His shoulders slumped as he tried to think of an answer, "I was weak," he finally said in a low tone, unable to meet her eyes. "I didn't want to worry you over my condition. I was afraid of the fact that I would have to leave you, Saphira, my mother, and all those I cared about. And so I thought that it would be easier to just ignore it altogether." He sighed rubbing his face with his right hand. "I'm sorry."

"Eragon," she knelt before him, her head lifted so that she could stare at him from his slumped position, which made his chest burn. Her hands came up to take rest on either side of face. "Do not let fear overwhelm you. We are here to help you no matter how hopeless the cause is. If you do not try then how will you know the outcome?"

"I just didn't want to burden you," he murmured quietly.

"You will never be a burden to me or those who care about you," said Arya gently, her previous anger gone. "You have seen to it that those about you are happy but you won't allow yourself happiness. I want to see you happy; everyone wants to see you happy. Why can't you see that? Depend on us, Eragon. We are here for you."

He blinked feeling his eyes water and tried to lift his head from Arya's grasp but she kept a firm grip on him, her green eyes abnormally bright. "Believe in me, Eragon," she smiled and the next words she said shocked him to the core. "For I love you."

He blinked and to his irritation tears began to follow from his eyes at her words. It was as if nothing else in the world matter but Arya at the moment. That all of his life he had been running but this moment with her, he was able to finally slow to a walk. Burying his head against her neck he cried for the first time in a long time within her arms. His lungs heaved and his chest hurt but he didn't care. The past few weeks were just too great for him to reign in. He had to let it go.

In the back of his mind, he felt embarrassed for being so incapable of controlling his emotions but Arya didn't seem to mind his tears as she held him in her embrace. After a moment, he calmed until he felt an agonizing pounding in his head from his frustration and tears. Pulling away from her, he sniffed wiping at his face as he caught her eyes.

She was smiling up at him softly as if her confession had lightened her being as much as it did his. He tried to regain his breath and said rather unevenly, "As I you," he blinked again, coughing, feeling his face flush and his ears grow red. "I love you, Arya."

She bestowed upon him a gorgeous smile before her expression became more serious. Standing, she went to resume her seat on the stool as she motion for him to lie down, propping his pillows up against his back so he didn't strain his chest muscle. "Though I am still angered about your deception, I must admit that to see you so well and recovering makes me beyond euphoric."

He snorted; she still looked like she wanted to badly hit him. When she asked about the source of his amusement, his explanation made her smile slightly. "I would be lying if I said that I did not want to, but seeing as you are recovering I can make this one exception. But see to it that you make note of this, Eragon Shadeslayer."

"Nen ono weohnata, Arya Drottningu." _As you will, Princess Arya. _

She nodded for a moment, satisfied before her expression grew curious, "Do you feel any different Eragon?"

"My chest aches and my muscles are stiff, other than that I do not think so."

"No, not physically but mentally. Just think for a moment and tell me what you feel," she stared at him her eyes hard, giving him no choice but to contemplate her words. Concentrating on his mind, he tried to block out every other thought and emotion coming from the direction of the Varden's main body. But there was this one part in which he couldn't block.

The familiar eerie melody softly floated through his thoughts and soul, weaving in and out of his own minds. And he felt it, a presence that was not his own but yet intertwined with him. It was a soft and warm presence, touching his chest he glanced at Arya surprised. Other than that he felt stronger mentally and whole. "What do you feel?" Arya asked.

"You," it came out bluntly and feeling as he had offended her, he went to explain but she merely shook her head.

"That was to be expected," she murmured lightly, her own hand coming to rest over her heart.

"What was to be expected?"

"That you would feel a part of me, no matter what," she answered throwing him into a world of confusion. He stared at her no comprehending what she was saying. "When you were dying…I found the other half of your soul which Jeremiah was carrying with him and it was locked away in this mirror. So when I destroyed it, your soul dragged mine into your body. I did not know what to do or how to reconnect your souls but this presence told me that I had to connect my own soul with yours to save you."

"So you used your soul to reunite my own?" Eragon asked at a loss for words.

Her eyes were downcast as she nodded, "I had no other choice," her voice grew lightly strained, "If you preferred that I did not—"

"Never!" Eragon said reaching out to grip her hands as he felt a part of her emotions flow through him. Though she didn't show it on her expression, he felt her hesitation and nervousness. "Though I think you might come to regret it someday."

She glanced up to give him a questioning glance, "Why's that?"

"Because now you can never get rid of me," said Eragon simply.

Her lips curved into a smile, "I do not plan to, you and I are mates…this just solidifies that fact even more so than before."

Trying to keep his own happiness at bay, he could feel the effects his emotions were having on Arya. She shifted lightly in her seat her muscles relaxed and her expression light. The only way to perfect the moment was if he could lean forward to kiss her lightly but his chest hurt too much. As the emotion passed through him, Arya raised a brow at him.

"Sorry," for some reason, with his other half reunited; he felt a stronger pull towards Arya. It was too hard not to ignore. She laughed before acquiescing to his silent request. Leaning forward, she lightly kissed him and as he raised his head to deepen the contact she pulled away much to his disappointment.

"Angela had told me to make sure that you do not overexert yourself," said Arya at his expression. He frowned. He did not see where that fell under overexertion. _Curse you, Angela_. He blinked when Arya laughed again and he felt his face flush, his emotions must have washed over her to his slight embarrassment.

They were constantly aware of each other now and of the other's emotions. It was as much as a blessing as it was a curse. He was never going to be able to hide his emotions behind a mask of indifference when it came to Arya anymore.

Their souls were intertwined…

"What happened to Asura?" Eragon asked finally remembering about the spirit.

Her expression grew into one of pleasure piquing his curiosity. "His soul was consumed by yours," she said as her fingers glided over the skin of his right hand. "When your other half was reunited with you, and then intertwined with mine, the force of it consumed his soul in the merging. His was too weak to fend off our combined powers. Not only that but you've inherited his powers."

"Powers?"

"The injury that you sustained was too much for magic to heal but Asura's magic healed the muscle and the skin within mere seconds, something that would take even an elf a minute or two to do," said Arya.

He stared down at his chest surprised; he had not expected that in the least. How ironic it was that Asura had been determined to consume his soul but had ended up being consumed by him instead. He snorted, "For some reason, I think I've gone mad."

"Hmm?"

"My soul is back, my wound healed, and my soul a part of your own," stated Eragon. "I don't think I've ever been happier than I am now." He thought for a moment before smiling at her. "And I love you."

"I think I've known for a while," Arya said quietly, "That my feelings for you were more than just merely ardor. I am glad, however that we both know and see it." She laced their fingers together. "Be that as it may, you are not out of the flames just yet Eragon."

He didn't have the chance to ask what it was that she meant as a roar sounded overhead, causing frightful shouts to erupt from the Varden's tents. Ten seconds later the ground shook as a heavy body landed on it and his tent flap was pushed aside as Saphira snaked her head in, ignoring the furnishings she crushed in the way.

Eragon nearly jumped when she snapped her jaws angrily at him but Arya remained still as if she did not see the anger of the dragon before her.

_You fool! _He winced when he felt her voice thunder in his mind, far from happy. A small jet of flames leapt from her maw, nearly singeing his cheek.

"Saphira," Arya said softly as she put out the fire that caught on the corner of his tent.

_I've waited for two agonizing days for him to wake and now that he is, I will make sure he hears what I have to say! _Saphira roared. _How could you do that to me, Eragon? _

He closed his eyes lightly as her pain, anger, and grief washed over him through their connection. Arya's soul that was intertwined with his own flared slightly coming forth to shelter him from the torrent of emotions. It was able to ease the pain, if only momentarily.

_How could you? _She repeated. _Why did you lie to me? _

_Because I wanted to protect you! _Eragon said both verbally and mentally. _I didn't want to see you saddened over my condition, over what Asura was doing to me! I love you Saphira, and I just didn't want to see you hurt! _

_Protect me? I am a dragon, do not forget that Eragon! I am your dragon, it is my duty to protect you, _her anger dimmed slightly, _but you didn't feel the need to honor our bond anymore. _

_That's not true! I'm honored to be your rider, I'm honored that you'd hatched for me! I didn't deserve you, Saphira. All I've done since you've had hatched was drag my feet through my life. I was chaining you to the ground when you could take to the skies. _

_Eragon, you idiot, _Saphira said her thoughts a mix of exasperation and anger. _I don't see you as a burden, I'm your dragon and I want to fly with you, always. Use my wings for you have none and I shall take you wherever you wish. I love you and it just hurt too much when Desdemona told me of your request. _

_I—I'm sorry, _it sounded meek, even to his own ears but he couldn't find another way to word it. _Never again, shall I deceive you Saphira…I understand if you're angry at me. _

_Angry? _She snorted; _angry does not even come close to describing my feelings towards you at the moment. If you weren't injured, I would've thrown you on your head…until I felt better. _

Unable to help himself, he laughed at her words promptly easing her anger, she huffed slightly, _at least you are whole now. _

_Am I different?_

_You are still you; _her sapphire eyes bore into him before she blinked satisfied with what she saw. She turned her head slightly, knocking over his table to stare at Arya. _I'm afraid you'll have to always keep one eye trained on him from now on Arya. _

"As long as you are watching him with another then it will be an easy task," Arya said with a slight smile. "And if he does do anything to anger us, we shall make do on our threats Saphira."

She snorted with amusement before opening her maw light to lick Eragon's cheek with her tongue, he blinked, _recover swiftly Eragon, I shall be nearby with Eridor if you need me. _

_Fly safe. _

_Rest well, _she withdrew her head effectively crushing his table as well as ripping the tent flap with one of her spikes. He sighed falling against his pillow. All that was left was to face his family and Nasuada. It was a good thing he was injured for he was sure that Arya and Saphira really would have attacked him if he wasn't.

"She wasn't really going to attack you," Arya said lightly at his disgruntled expression.

"I am not quite sure that I agree with you," he rolled to her slightly, somewhat restless that he had to continue to rest in bed. "When will my chest fully heal?"

"Another day most likely, the muscles and bones that you tore are still freshly healed and if you irritate them, it will hurt," her free hand came up to trace the lining of his sheets against his chest stopping in the middle of his torso.

That was when he realized that he was entirely bared underneath the sheets. Heat flushed through him. "Do not worry, Angela did not attend to cleansing the filth from your body," said Arya as if reading his mind.

He glanced at her, she smiled, "I took the liberty to do so."

If anything, he grew more mortified as he stared at her, his mouth agape. She took the liberty? That meant that she saw—well everything! Unable to stare at her anymore, he rolled away from her, turning his back to Arya, mortified. He heard her make a sound between a scoff and a laugh before the feeling of her hands on his back and arms made his skin tingle.

"Eragon, it was necessary, you reeked terribly and Angela did not want to tend to a patient who smelt like the dead," he refused to turn to her, her words causing his embarrassment to peak.

He felt a light kiss under his ear and his resolve slightly wavered. No, he had to remain steadfast. Feeling Arya's amusement swirl within him, he tried to move away from her. Her arms came to wrap around his torso lightly careful not to inflame his healed chest and he felt her nose nuzzle his neck. _Don't give in, Eragon. _He told himself.

He lay there, refusing to give into temptation. He was still mortified by the fact that she was the one to bathe and clean him. "You are being foolish, Eragon," she whispered lightly against his skin. He fought the urge to snort when he felt her smile against his neck he knew that she felt his emotions through their link. A kiss was pressed against his neck. "You've seen me once…devoid of a shirt."

That was true, when he went to fetch her from Durza, she was half dressed. A different kind of heat stirred within him. "Not on purpose," he protested weakly as her right hand began to trace the contours of his muscles.

"For me as well, you see," she kissed his jaw. "Angela demanded that you were to be bathed before she can continue to oversee you. And Nasuada had planned for one to do so," she kissed his chin. "You must understand how the thought of having another woman bathing you must have felt to me," somewhere in his dazed mind he thought of how annoyed Arya might have been. A kiss to the corner of his lips erased the thought from his mind. "Surely you would not let another take such a liberty if you were in my position," just the thought of someone other than him seeing Arya made his blood boil. His hand which had came to rest on her hip as she half laid on him tightened. This time she kissed him, her lips brushing against his own.

He responded quite brutally to her kiss, the thought still stuck on his mind as he raised his head to deepen the kiss, finally feeling her tongue brushing against his. When they broke apart, he was panting slightly as he stared up into her eyes. A corner of her lips was drawn into a smirk as she studied him.

"You should not worry too much Eragon," her emerald eyes twinkled. "You are beautiful."

He blinked. She thought he was beautiful, he thought with a touch of pride. Suddenly forgetting his initial embarrassment, he reached up to kiss her again. "I love you," the words came out without hesitation or doubt.

"And I you,"

She spent another hour with him before giving him a tonic in which he was to drink that made his rather drowsy. Before he fell into the warm embrace of sleep, he vaguely smelt the fragrance of spice and crushed pine needles in his nose as she'd bent down to kiss him light on his brow.

"Sleep well, Eragon."

**So what do you think? I've been dying to write an AxE moment. And I love it! I hope you all do too. But anyways, leave me your reviews! Don't forget that the plot shall be picking up quite steadily from now on! **


	55. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

**Sorry for the long wait but this week has just been so tiring. It's so hard to balance everything with sleep. I just wished there was like 36 hours in a day and not just 24 maybe I won't be like a walking zombie all the time. But there's also a reason for the long wait on this chapter and that was because in this chapter there is a LEMON! (yes, I said it.) And I'm not used to writing such intimate scenes that will remain close to Arya's character. But I gave it a shot. So I hope you'll enjoy it. **

He glared at the runes again, frowning as he tried to find a way out of the rather complicated situation he was in at the moment. He stared at Angela who sat across from him, her lips forming a smirk as if she knew exactly what was going on through his mind. He had turned away from her for a mere second and now he was losing in their game. "Are you going to make a move yet?" Angela asked with a grin.

His frown deepened. If only Arya or Saphira was here, he thought. They would be able to help him but King Orrin and Nasuada had required their presence at their tent. Because of that, he was unable to see them for most of the day which especially annoyed him. Tomorrow Roran was going to be married and that made Murtagh rather busy as he went to help their cousin prepare for the wedding and his mother was resting from the stress of the last few days.

And he had grown rather restless from the lack of company the entire day until the herbalist had decided to waltz in and offer him some of her time. Now, he wasn't sure whether or not he regretted accepting it. After a moment, he sat back folding his arms across his chest, "Let us call it a draw for the moment."

"What?" Angela said outraged at his lack of motivation to make another move in their game. "A draw? This certainly is not a draw!"

"Well, I refuse to make another move for the moment," said Eragon with a slight smile. "Maybe another time, besides I dislike this game of runes."

She stared at him with a thin lipped expression before tossing her curly hair over her shoulder in an indignant display. "Very well then, another time," with that she reached down and in a swift motion swept the runes into a velvet pouch. She was very annoyed, Eragon thought as he stared at her.

That was when he felt it, a tinge of growing irritation that was not his. Throughout the entire day, he'd felt from Saphira and Arya emotions that bordered the same line. Saphira was annoyed and he could tell that if King Orrin and Nasuada didn't stop in what they were doing, she might snap at them. Arya on the other hand was beyond irritated and he could feel her restless anger coming from within him. Eragon pursed his lips, trying not to laugh outright at the feelings he felt from the two of them.

"You look like a buffoon," he glanced up at Angela who was observing him with a curious expression.

"Pardon?" Eragon asked pretending not to hear her.

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes before reaching over the table to poke him in the chest. "How is your elf feeling?"

"Irritated."

"As she should be," Angela bent down and drew out another pouch. He glanced at it wary. Since he had awakened yesterday, whole and healed, Angela had been forcing tonic after tonic in his throat. Nearly choking him alive. "I'm afraid that it seems to irritate her to be in such company, especially Orrin who seems intent on stripping all of her secrets off of her."

"She won't fall to him easily," Eragon said without a doubt.

Angela nodded opening to pouch to pour out something that he had only seen once. It was the dragon knucklebones that she had used to tell his fortune back in Tronjheim. Had it truly been so long ago? Momentarily forgetting Arya's irritation, he grew cautious and curious. "What do you need them for?" Eragon asked.

"To tell your fortune of course," she said with raised brows.

He frowned. "But you've already told me mine."

"I know that," she said, "Just humor me, Shadeslayer."

Not knowing what she was going to gain from telling his fortune yet again, Eragon rubbed his hands together lightly. He had heard his fortune and had grown to accept it. But what will hearing it again do for him? After a moment he shrugged, "Then let us begin."

Growing serious, she brought up the bones in her hands and tossed them onto the surface of the small table, crying the same words as before. As he watched the bones fall, he felt surprised when they didn't clump together into the pile like it did before but had rather loosened into distinguishable symbols. He leaned forward as did Angela to take a look at the array of symbols on the bones. The herbalist's expression was one of pure curiosity as she studied the bones. "Of course, of course," she murmured to herself oblivious to his presence. "How curious…"

Eragon stared at her, waiting for her to divine her mutterings. After a moment she straightened to smile at him. "Your future is still a confused mess but not like before," she said as she pointed to the bones. "You've already made irreversible decisions in your life and that has therefore affected your future as you can clearly see."

He nodded, "Will you care to explain?"

Angela nodded and with her finger pointed to a bone that he had already seen, "This has not changed, you will still live a long life Eragon," he'd expected as much. Her finger moved onward to a bone that he had found pleasantly attractive. "Ah, now this has changed."

The first time Angela had read his fortune to him, there was a symbol of a crescent moon and overlaying it was beautiful red rose. Now, however, the moon was a full moon and the red rose had blossomed into a beautiful and mature flower. "A powerful romance in your life, for now and ever," she smiled slyly, "An eternal love as seen by the fullness of the moon. I must say that this bit is as true as ever seeing that you and Arya are so intimately intertwined."

He couldn't help but smile at her words. That was true beyond all accounts.

She moved on from the bone to another that laid in the pile. "This one has also changed," the sailing ship that he had come across before was now a docking ship. He remembered her words rather clearly from before when she had spoken to him about it. _You will forever leave, Alagaesia._"Be at ease, Eragon, this docking ship means that you will leave Alagaesia but this land will forever be your home and no matter how many times you venture forth from it, you will always return to grace this ancient land with your presence."

To say that he was relieved was beyond consideration, the coldness of her words the first time she had spoken of his departure had slowly eased away from his mind, leaving him lighter than before. For the next few moments, she had gone to decipher the few bones that weren't confused within the pile. Which wasn't many, after she'd packed up her bones, Eragon asked the question on his mind, already having an inkling of her answer.

"Why has my fortune changed?" Eragon asked, serious. "Even though it was only small distinctions, I'd always thought that no matter what one does the future will always be cemented."

Angela smiled mysteriously at him. "Ah, listen to your question carefully before you ask it, Shadeslayer. You asked why your future has changed? Then I shall tell you. It hasn't," he frowned staring at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," she tucked away the pouch of knucklebones. "Your future has become entwined with another's fortune. Would you like to guess who?" at the expression of understanding on Eragon's face, Angela continued unperturbed. "Because Arya's soul has become part of your own, her fortune also becomes a part of yours because essentially you two are both tied together though not physically but spiritually."

"It makes sense," Eragon murmured.

"There's also another alternative," Angela said before he could contemplate the information more. "With your entire soul reunited, it had an effect on your readings because before you weren't really you."

"That's also viable."

"Either way, you can believe what you will but know this, Eragon: you are now truly Eragon Shadeslayer."

He smiled at her, grateful for her words. Glancing outside of the small hole in his tent, he was surprised to find that it was already night. Voicing his thoughts, Eragon stood to see the herbalist out. Once outside, Angela turned to him with a smirk. "Might I suggest visiting your elf, I'm quite positive her meeting did not go so well."

"I shall take you up on the advice," said Eragon turning to walk fifteen yards to his left where Arya's tent stood. Walking up to it, he knocked lightly on the post alerting her to his presence even though he knew she probably heard his approach. He wasn't exactly stealthy. He still felt her irritation but there was a slight tinge of pleasure that bordered the strong emotion.

"Come in," her voice floated over to him.

Drawing the flap back, he entered her tent raising his brow slightly when he didn't immediately see her. "Arya?" There was a rustle of movement towards his left and he turned his head in time to a sight that made his heart violently stutter.

She wasn't wearing her usual leather but instead a rather thin white towel was wrapped around her body. Her hair was damp and hung in clumps down her back and her skin, he saw, was glistening. His heart gave another heart wrenching stutter at her honey milk skin, feeling a flush and need wash over his body. Arya's pleasure seemed to increase. Coughing slightly, he moved forward to sit on a stool by her low table that held her scrolls and texts.

"Did I interrupt you?" Eragon asked his voice slightly strained. The situation seemed so intimate and yet again, so familiar.

She shook her head, moving to sit down on her cot one hand still clutching at her towel. "I just bathed," her eyes slightly narrowed and he felt her irritation peak again. "King Orrin's chemicals are rather formidable."

He raised a brow.

She lifted a white cloth that was stained gray, "It took me quite a while to rub it from my skin."

"What is it?" he stood and made his way over to her, clutching the gray stained cloth in his hand. The smell of the chemical was faint due to the fact that it was diluted with water but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was a type of oil. Studying it for a second longer, he made the mistake of glancing down at Arya dressed as she was and their close proximity was not helping either.

Reaching down to take a strand of her damp hair between his fingers, he felt a warm heat suffuse his body. "A rather foul concoction of oil and freesia perfume," said Arya as she stared up at him with large dark eyes, so dark they were almost black.

"Maybe he was trying for a rather explosive mixture," Eragon said as he bent down slightly his head growing heady with her scent.

"Maybe," she smiled up at him and that was when he felt it from her, a flash of desire. "How was your time with Angela? It felt like you were very amused."

**ALRIGHT! THOSE WHO DO NOT WANT TO READ A LEMON SKIP TO THE END! WARNING! WARNING! **

"That's because I was," he bent closer to her as she titled her head upwards in anticipation of his action. "She can be quite amusing at times," finally his lips were on hers kissing her for the first time that day and again, he felt his passion for her become inflamed to new heights. All the angst the past weeks had made the lust and want build up to such an insurmountable amount that he found it impossible to reign in. Arya's own lust was adding fuel to the fire raging within him and he found that it was suddenly too hard to breathe correctly. There was such a strong need to devour her that it wasn't enough anymore.

Eragon slightly pushed against her and the two of them went sprawling onto her cot in a tangle of limbs and labored breathing from the passionate kissing. Her hand gripping her towel had run up to bury itself in his mess of hair. His own hands had a mind of their own as they ran from her bare arms down to her side, her hips and back again. Her fingers started moving of their own violation, he felt them trace a path across his back and up under his shirt. She broke the kiss, her eyes dark and her lips swollen as she stared up at him tugging at his shirt with her fingers.

Not denying her he grabbed it and tugged it over his head throwing it to the side. And for a moment he was glad that his chest had healed fully this morning so he could take off his bandages. Feeling a slight shiver run down his body at the intensity of her stare he bent down again to capture her lips into a kiss that could be called ferocious. Her response nearly made him implode. How was it possible that she could invoke such emotions in him? It was just too much.

After a moment of battling for dominance, he pulled away and began to trail kisses down her neck stopping short at her shoulder taking in the lining of her towel. Almost immediately his blood boiled at the thought of the underlying skin. His hand was resting on her hip clutching at the towel and he had the strongest urge to just pull it from her body. Before he could let the idea come together in his mind, Arya gave a tug on his hair pulling him back up to meet her searching lips which were curved into a rather seductive smile. His hand pulled lightly on her towel.

Within the haze of desire, lust, and love that was swirling within him he felt the approval from her meek though it was against the strength of his other emotions. Slowly, very slowly, he pulled the white cloth from her body letting it flutter to the ground softly. Pulling back to take her in, Eragon felt his heart stutter again. She was beautiful. Her skin was an even milky honey, damp though it was from her bath. Her body was toned, her stomach flat, her breasts were round and perfect. Everything about her was perfection; she was the epitome of beauty. His eyes traveled lower knowing that she was laying perfectly still underneath his stare as if waiting for him. Her body did not have on strand of hair on it as he'd expected. Letting his hand glide up her bare leg, he rested it lightly on her inner thigh watching her shift slightly for him. Inside him he felt as if a door was thrown open and a wild hunger for Arya had consumed every other thought in his body and that was when he felt it, her slight insecurity at his lack of words.

Catching her eyes with his he slowly bent down to kiss the flat plane of her stomach, "You're much more beautiful than I am, Arya," he murmured against her skin.

Before she could open her mouth to speak he rose back up to kiss her effectively stopping the words. Her arms came up to wrap themselves about his neck and pull him flush against her. His eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as he felt her heated skin come in contact with his, her chest rubbing against him, her nipples hard and erect. He pushed against her and he felt her gasp slightly when his own hardness brushed against her leg. Worried that he had alarmed her, he made to put some distance between them but her leg moved and her ankle was soon locked around his own keeping him in place.

To say that Eragon was inexperienced was an understatement; he did not know how to pleasure a woman much less Arya. In his youth, he had heard countless tales told by one soldier to another about their sexual experiences and at that moment he could have cared less for such stories. But now he was internally glad that his hearing was so acute he was able to pick up on a few pointers. His desire to see Arya writhe and squirm from pleasure was as strong as his desire to touch and taste every inch of her that he could. He wanted to see her rise to a high that she'd never been to before and he wanted to take her there, Eragon vowed to himself.

His right hand was tangled in her ebony tresses while his left was resting on her hip, deciding to follow instinct and be guided by Arya's emotions; he reached up to cup her breast. Her reaction was immediate as a low moan escaped her, almost a purr. Gaining confidence, he gently messaged her through his hand marveling at the soft feel of her skin against his calloused palms and the hardness of her nipple. "Eragon," his name escaped her lips in a breathy sigh.

Inside of him he felt her increasing pleasure but also her increasing want. Desiring to fulfill that want, he broke away from her feeling his member throb at the small whimper that came from her. It was music to his ears, the sounds that she made. Without warning, Eragon bent his head as he removed his hand from her breast before lavishing his mouth on it. Another moan escaped her as she arched her back off of the cot pushing her chest against him. Guided by her growing pleasure, he licked, bit, and tasted her enjoying her pleasure as much as she did. And when his mouth closed entirely around her nipple he felt her emotions explode within him.

He bit down a lightly earning a small cry from her before he moved to her other breast that he'd neglected, repeating the same process until he had her panting beneath him for want. When she couldn't take it anymore, Arya pulled him back up to kiss him again, her lips searing with an ardent fervor as if she wanted to devour him as much as he wanted to devour her.

He felt her left hand scratch his scalp lightly, the feeling making him groan, a guttural sound escaping from him. Her free hand had gone from tracing the skin of his chest before gliding downwards. He groaned again when he felt her fingers trace the rigid outline of his arousal. He reached down to grab her hand moving it away despite her gasp of protest. It was his turn to touch her and he wasn't done yet.

There was one thing that he remembered distinctively through every story. He felt Arya's surprise as her body stiffened beneath him when his fingers lightly stroked her between her legs. He stilled his hand, raising his head from hers to glance down at her. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, her swollen lips parted, her cheeks flushed but it was the most beautiful and erotic image of Arya that at the moment he swore to never forget. "Should I stop?" Eragon asked his voice thick.

She shook her head, "I was just surprised," she closed her eyes as Eragon tentatively brushed his fingers against her again. This time her hips bucked against his hand. "It feels…so good."

He was ready to die from the feel of her, the sight of her, and the sound of her. Bending down he buried his head in her chest knowing that his next action was going to surprise her as well. Letting his fingers stroke her, he felt his arousal ache at the wetness between her legs. She was just as aroused as he was, maybe even more so. He smoothed the wetness against her feeling her hips buck again into his hand. Finding her folds, he gently teased her opening causing her to moan, her chest slightly vibrating from the sound. The pleasure he felt from her was building up and he knew that she wanted release. Eragon was not going to deny her anything.

She gasped and her hands came up to grab him. One digging itself into his hair while the other gripped his shoulders. "Oh!"

He tried to say something but his lips refused to form words. He was dying from the pleasure of touching her, of having his finger inside her. He felt her walls clamping down on him, clenching and relaxing before clenching again. She was so hot and wet, he groaned again. Pulling his finger out from her, he added another finger as he pushed back in stretching her. Then he added a third, testing her barriers as she shifted underneath him, pushing against his hand.

"Eragon," this time it came out as a keen, a plead for him.

He pulled back his hand and slammed into her, creating a steady rhythm as his fingers pumped in and out of her. Her own hips bucked against his hand, her wetness slicking him. As he used his fingers to pleasure her, he felt his own need insistently growing as her small cries began to grow from the building pressure. He pushed the though aside, he wanted to see her come. He wanted to see her face as she reached the release that she sought, to see her lose utter and absolute control of herself. Kissing her breasts one last time, he raised his head to look at her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips were parted and a look of flushed pleasure was radiating from her.

He kissed her temple, before pulling back, "Arya," Eragon murmured willing her to look at him as his hand continued its ministration.

She did, her eyelids lifting to reveal dark, smoldering emerald green eyes. He stared at her, getting himself lost in an Arya that he'd rarely seen. She seemed so close to losing control of herself unlike her usual guarded persona. Her lips parted as another small cry escaped her. She was close to release, he could feel it. The wire was about ready to snap. As his fingers plunged into her depths again, his thumb searched for the nub that he knew was there and when he found it, he pressed down on the sensitive skin. Hard. It was enough.

The wire that was pulled taut snapped.

Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted as a cry escaped her. Her cheeks were flush and he saw her face glistening with sweat as her body writhed and flailed underneath him. Her eyes grew wild and he saw as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her until her body was gently humming underneath him. His hand which was coated with her sweet release slipped out from her with ease. Knowing that she was watching him he brought it up to his nose and sniffed her womanly scent taking pleasure in the fact that it was him who had brought her to such a state. He licked the warm liquid from his hand, distinctly tasting her, a taste he found consuming.

Within him, he felt her sated beyond anything else and a slow drowsiness seeping into her. Her arms which had come to rest about his neck pulled at him, her eyes darting to the tent in his breeches where his arousal was, "Eragon…"

"Shh…" he murmured against her lips as he kissed her. "Sleep, Arya. I'll be here when you wake."

Her dark eyes stared up at him and he could see the weariness in her as she nodded a smile on her lips. Throwing off his boots, he lifted the sheets tucking her in underneath before coming up to embrace her to his back, earning a contented sigh from her. "I love you, Arya," he murmured.

She nodded against his chest a small sound escaping her before she drifted off to sleep entirely. As she did, her stared at her willing for his body to calm down. It took a moment but he felt his arousal slowly ebb away replaced with a satisfaction in what he had accomplished. Letting his hand glide up and down her bare arm, he replayed Arya coming. Never before had he seen such an expression on her more less an emotion like that. And it was then with her sleeping soundly in his arms, worn from the day's events did he vow to make her come again.

Thinking back onto the moment he entered her tent he grinned to himself. Initially he hadn't thought of anything of that sort. Far from it actually, he had just wanted to see her before he went to sleep but their emotions had gotten out of hand and she had allowed him to see to it to pleasure her in more than one way.

With that thought in his mind, he brushed his lips lightly against her shoulder before letting sleep take him as well, images of her flashing in and out of his dreams. Never before had he felt such a strong feeling from her. It was overpowering.

**So that is my treat to you all for waiting diligently for the next update. And for the general audience I tried to keep a warning ahead of the sexual scenes so you can known ahead of time. Tell me how you feel about this chapter, particularly the lemone, I'm just so not used to writing like that. So I'm a little iffy about adding anymore in until I can get a good feel of it. Anyways, I'll see you all next chapter! (Once I get a good 9 hours worth of sleep in one night!) Don't forget to review! :) **


	56. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

**I'm so sorry for the delayed update but this chapter contains yet another lemon and I had to take some time to make it work. In this chapter towards the end I added the wedding scene because I felt like whether in CP's work or my alternative version of it, Roran and Katrina were bound to wed. So there's that and once this chapter is done, everything will finally start picking up with some lemons here and there so keep your pants on! Anyways, I hope you'll all enjoy this rather light amd fluff filled and lemon tasting chapter!**

Drifting in an out of sleep, she saw flashes of her memories in her deep cloud of slumber, sated as she was from her earlier moment with Eragon. She saw his smoldering, hungry brown eyes boring into her. She saw his head buried against her chest, his tongue darting out to taste her. She saw his clear arousal against his breeches and remembered the ache she had to touch him and grip him within her hands. The thought of it made her flush as a warm heat shot from her chest to her hips.

Blinking, it took her a moment for her eyes to register the dim lighting in flowing through the small gap in her tent flap. The feeling of skin and heat radiating from the person next to her caught her attention. Sleeping on his side with his arms wrapped about her was Eragon. His hair was a mess—her doing—and a satisfied smile was stretched across his face. Seeing him so close to her brought back images of last night and the immense pleasure that ripple through her body afterwards.

Feeling more relaxed than she did in weeks; she shifted slightly in his embrace. Last night when she had come rather violently in his hands for the first time, she had wanted to return the same for him. But his selflessness said otherwise and with his warm voice speaking to her she was lulled to sleep. She was going to have to thank King Orrin, Arya thought somewhat amused, for the event that took place last night with Eragon.

If the blasted king hadn't decide to annoy her to the point that she had knocked over a glass of his wretched concoctions, it would've never fueled Eragon into such heated and intimate actions. His desire nearly drove her insane with want. Stretching slightly, she blinked when she felt his hand grip her waist, stilling her.

"It's too early," he mumbled against her hair, his chest rumbling.

She laughed, feeling relaxed and at ease, "Early? For you it may be but the rest of the world has already risen with the sun."

He peeled an eyelid back to stare at her with a sleepy but amused expression, "I would expect you to be asleep still with the _exercise_ last night."

Unable to stop the flush that rose up she smiled up at him. She watched as he blinked twice before his eyes came into focus, the corner of his lips curling up. She raised a brow at him as he stared at her openly and intimately, his eyes roaming the skin that was unconcealed above the sheets. He bent down and kissed her. "Morning."

Almost immediately, her body responded to him quicker than her mind did. Flushing with heat, she pushed against him. After a moment, he pulled away much to her disappointment. "How are you feeling?"

She blinked trying to ignore the feel of his chest pressed against hers or his hand gliding up and down the small of her back, often times going lower to fondle her bottom. She had to control her unruly thoughts. But it was proving difficult seeing that her body was still humming from the release that had ripped through her unbidden a few hours earlier.

"Better than I've ever been," she answered truthfully.

He nodded his expression thoughtful but his feelings told her differently. She felt his nervousness and slight insecurity come forth from within her. "What is it, Eragon?"

His eyes flickered down to her and away, "How was I?"

Understanding washed over her as she stared up at him in slight disbelief. Unable to stop the slight laugh that escaped her, she rose up slightly to kiss him, "Wonderful. If it were not for the fact that your cousin is to be married in a few hours time, I would like to have a repeat."

"Really?"

"Of course," she traced a path from his temple to his chin staring down at him. "I would also like a moment to return the favor." He gulped and she could see it in his eyes, the affect of her words. It was so empowering in a way. But before they could get any farther a deep voice rumbled within their minds, startling them.

_I'm afraid you'll have to save that for a later time,_ Eridor said amused at their reactions. _Your mother seeks your presence, Eragon._

She had forgotten entirely about the dragons, _don't worry, Arya. We made sure to block the two of you once things became rather…heated…_

Eragon laughed not mortified as she was by Eridor's words. _I apologize for the lack of a warning but I was rather preoccupied with your rider._

_Hmmm…It's just a shame that you two legs are so cautious about the practice of mating, _Eridor said amused. _Dragons do not hold as much sentiment when it comes to taking mates not like humans and especially not like elves._

Arya sighed lightly, she did not want to turn something beautiful into a matter of teasing so early, _where are you Eridor?_

_Waiting with Thorn as Murtagh and the others ready the wedding._

_And where is Saphira? _Eragon asked.

_With you mother._

Arya nodded as she sat up, pulling the sheets up about her. _We'll be there in a moment._

With that the two of them decoupled their minds from Eridor. Rubbing her hand over her face she felt her curiosity pique her when she felt Eragon's emotions. He was staring at her with his head resting on her pillow, his brown eyes bright. Reaching forward, she gently brushed his hair away from his eyes, feeling slightly guilty at not being able to help him reach his own release he had to forgo because of her.

Unable to stop the flow of emotions from her she bent down to affectionately kiss him on his temple. He blinked as if facing a bright light, "What was that for?"

She didn't answer her but instead thought of yesterday. While she was busy with King Orrin and Nasuada, she was curious to what it was Eragon was doing. And from the little pieces of information from him, Arya was able to come up with the fact that he was with Angela. "What did you do with Angela yesterday?"

He snorted, his expression becoming one of extreme amusement. "A one sided game of runes," he said with a light laugh.

"Were you the one wining?" she asked knowing the answer to her question.

"Not even close,"

"You must understand Eragon," she said. "That to win against Angela you must never turn your head away from the game else she'll use one of her many unfair actions."

"Cheating?"

She nodded watching as he too sat up, not bothering to keep the sheets in place, revealing his muscular chest. Almost immediately a touch of desire flared up within her. When had she become so needing? It was too difficult to fathom that one interaction with Eragon would cause her to become so addicted to sensuality. Her eyes stopped short of the waistline of his breeches.

A strange heat began to fill her; much like the one last night when Eragon touched, kissed, and tasted every inch of her. She wanted to return the same sentiment. She wanted to see him lose control by her actions, he was always so calm and collected with the exception of certain instances in time but she wanted for him to feel the immense pleasure she felt last night and bask in the afterglow of it like she did.

Feeling a small wave of desire wash over her, her grip on the sheets tightened. They had to prepare for the wedding but it wouldn't take long. She was sure of it. And when she told Eridor that they would be there in a moment, a moment didn't have to be the next five minutes. Besides, he knew that she liked to take her time when _preparing._

"Arya?"

She started, forgetting that Eragon was sitting next to her and that was when she'd made her decision. Without any warning, she kissed him pulling away after a moment to stare at him straight in the eye, "I want to…" she stopped short, never before had she said such words and even though she was in a way candid, it felt so naughty to actually voice her slightly unruly thoughts. "Touch you, Eragon."

He blinked at her and through their connection; she felt his sudden desire and anticipation. He wanted it as much as she did. Without waiting for him to say anything to her statement, she released the sheets from her grip and more or less crawled up to him as his hands reached out to pull her onto his lap. Settling into the familiar crook of his arms, she pushed against him not minding that she was exposed to him so openly. At first it felt rather frightening to have so much of her seen but with time that feeling was replaced with a want to be seen and touched by Eragon and only him. As she kissed him she smiled when he sighed into her mouth. His hot breath caressing her face.

One of his hand came up to cup her breast, lightly squeezing causing her to shift in his lap and push against his hand. In her new position, she could acutely feel his growing arousal against her, pleasantly pushing into her. Curious, she pressed against him earning a rather loud groan from him. When had that sound become so…alluring? Unable to keep her desire for him at bay, she pressed against him again rotating her hips slightly earning another loud, guttural moan.

"Arya," he said her name as if it pained and pleasure him to do so.

She didn't answer him but continued to kiss him, his lips, his face, his neck, his chest and shoulders. She wanted him more than anything. Just the thought of it made her wet. When she had him breathing harshly underneath her, did Arya decide to move on. Sliding from his lap, she deftly avoided his searching hands reaching forward to hook her thumbs in the belt loop of his breeches, which were tented with his arousal. Just one tug…

Arya pulled lightly watching as Eragon raised his hips from the bed to assist her in riding him of his breeches, throwing the rather offending material to the ground where her towel laid, crumpled. He was magnificent to behold.

She fought the urge to bite her lip. Just the thought of his hardened member filling her made the wetness between her legs grow even more. Reaching forward, she gently glided her fingers over him feeling him throb against her, causing her desire to grow. While he was unconscious, she'd seen him before but she'd never seen him in such a state, much less touch him.

Letting her fingers glide back down to the base of his arousal, she tentatively gripped him within her hand. His response was pleasurable for he groaned, his hips bucking slightly in her hand as his hands moved towards her. But she shook her head leaning forward to kiss him, "You've touched me all of last night. It is my turn, Eragon."

His brown eyes locked onto hers, clouded in a haze of pleasure that reminded her of her own. "I'm not sure whether this is pleasure…or torture," she saw him itch to reach out to her as she lightly squeezed him.

"Both,"

Squeezing him again, she began to move her hand up and down his length in a grip that was firm but not iron hard. It seemed too much for Eragon for he took in a rattling breath and closed his eyes and she could feel the onslaught of sensations that plague him with every motion of her hand, with every flick of her thumb across his head. Arya moved forward slightly, not stopping her hand as she kissed him. "You see, Eragon, I may seem ignorant to such actions but in truth, I'm not," she squeezed him.

"After leaving Du Weldenvarden and joining the Varden, I've entered a territory in which such events aren't unusual," she kissed the side of his head, reveling in his raspy breathing. "I'm always patrolling the halls at night, guarding the camps when no one else was awake…and I've heard a great many things."

It was a statement that was true in itself for with her acute hearing, she heard things she never thought she would hear and that was because the people she heard it from didn't know how to guard themselves from the ears of an elf. "And I've learned many things, especially when whispers accompany the many other sounds that live in the dead of night."

Pulling away from him, she was already moving before the idea had fully formed in her head. She leaned forward and tossing her hair to one side, letting it fall and pool in his lap as she stopped short of his arousal. Above her, she heard his intake of air as her own hot breath caressed his skin. She saw his member twitch lightly. Arya's eyes flickered to Eragon's as she slowly lowered her mouth onto the head of his member watching as he tried to reign in the crazed pleasure he felt.

Her tongue flicked the tip earning a grunt from him. Guided by his emotions, she began her descent on his hardened member, trying to find ways in which it felt pleasurable to him. It hurt when her teeth ran over him; his body responded fervently when her tongue ran the length of him; and when she had most of him encompassed in her mouth Eragon looked ready to lose it then and there.

With a squeeze around his base and a flick to his head, she felt the barrier break in Eragon's emotions, glancing up in time to see his brown eyes flicker out of focus and a warm liquid empty itself into her throat. It tasted…rather odd. She couldn't place it but it was Eragon. Pulling away from him she reached up to wrap her arms about him as his body shook with the release that she'd given him. The knowledge of departing such a feeling made her feel satisfied beyond belief.

When he had calmed she felt him shift beneath her slightly and glanced down to find him blinking tiredly, "Tired?" Arya asked feeling a wave of drowsiness wash over him.

"It is taxing," Eragon replied with a slight smile, she raised a brow at him as she moved to sit, reaching over to her bedside table where a flask sat. Grabbing it, she handed it to him. "What is this?"

"Faelnirv,"

Eragon grasped the flask from her and uncorking the top, took a few sips and she could feel his drowsiness slip away with each sip of the liquid he took. Placing it back onto her bedside table, he sat up with her; the sheets lay forgotten baring their bodies to the warm air. Modesty was not first thought on her mind; to be with Eragon in such a free way was relaxing.

"We should get ready for the wedding," he said with a light sigh. "I am sure the dragons are wondering to what we've been up to."

"No doubt,"

Reaching forward, he kissed her swollen lips lightly, "Let us ready ourselves then,"

She nodded and watched as he stepped into his breeches and stuffed his feet into his boots unceremoniously. Not bothering to throw on his shirt that she's seem to tear in her haste yesterday, he gave her one last look before departing. _Now is not the time to dream, Arya._ With a sheer will of force, she grabbed her towel and made to clean her body and dress, something she had neglected to do last night when she felt Eragon's approach.

_You took your time didn't you? _She glanced up at Eridor trying to keep from rolling her eyes at his remark.

_I was rather preoccupied._

_Hmm…_

_Where is Murtagh?_

Eridor pointed with the tip of his tail to a hill where the villagers of Carvahall were setting up poles wound with ribbons. _Helping to prepare the wedding. I'm afraid we'll have to wait a while longer for the ceremony to start._

She glanced around to find Thorn's massive bulk resting near the hill as he waiting for the wedding. And surrounding him were the twelve elves her mother had sent to guard Murtagh. She felt her lips thin at the thought of her mother; she would not agree if she were to hear of their soul bond.

All around she saw preparations go underway at a rather slow pace. The food she saw was still being prepared and would not be finished, she estimated in another hour or two. The limitations of humans were rather saddening.

Eridor nudged her with his snout, _why don't you lend a hand? After all you and Eragon are mates, so that makes Roran part of your family._

Of in the distance she saw Bard and Finny set up the perimeters of the wedding in case of unwanted attentions. Feeling oddly obligated to assist due to Eridor's words; she motioned for the other elves to join her. They might as well make themselves useful.

"Arya Drottningu," Blodhgarm greeted as they came to a halt before her. "Have you in need of something?"

"You assistance," she replied, her eyes traveling over the meadow that bordered the Jiet River that laid a hundred feet to her right. "There is no use in sitting there idly while your skills can be put to use elsewhere."

Twelve pairs of eyes stared at her and she saw a slight flicker of emotion in Blodhgarm's eyes, he opened his mouth to speak but before he could raucous laughter erupted amongst the midst of the villagers and what seemed to be half of the Varden.

"You bloody swine!" She blinked at the rather bawdy language and glanced up to find Rosalie standing atop of a table before Angela holding what seemed to be a ladle.

"What say you?" She watched as Angela who was holding another ladle feigned offense. What were they doing? Forgetting about her companions for the moment, she turned her attention to the two women. "Where get you such audacity?"

"I be an honest woman and you dare to sully my name in the words of a tart?" Rosalie flicked her red hair over her shoulder and raised her ladle higher. "Was it not you who fell in the wrong bed?"

"Fell?" Angela snorted. "Not at all! But it is you who shall fall!"

"Have at you!" and with that the two women began to fight one another with their ladles amongst the laughter of the crowd as their lines washed over Arya. It sounded like a familiar story amongst humans. Eventually with a bright flash of green light from Rosalie, the ladle flew from Angela's hand as the audience burst into cheers.

Within moments the crowd had dispersed, returning to their work as the two women caught sight of Arya and made their way over, one more elegant than the other. Once they'd reached her, she gave them a questioning look, "That, Arya is what you call entertainment before a wedding," Angela said with a light laugh. "Goodness, I didn't even know I could act so well."

"What were you playing out?"

"A rather old story of two best friends who fell in love for a pirate," Rosalie answered. "Blinded by their love they become rivals and end up fighting one another. I can't remember the ending though."

"That's because there isn't one," said Angela, "The audience will have to predict who the winner shall be, it makes the story all the more entertaining." The herbalist turned her attention to Arya again, "And what are you doing?"

"I was wondering whether or not there was nothing in which we could assist you in,"

"Plenty! Do you actually believe this lot can prepare the wedding with swift hands?

"Then what is it that we can help?"

Rosalie answered the question, "If you don't mind," her eyes flickered to Blodhgarm and the others, "I can show you what to do, it would be greatly appreciated if you could lend your services."

Their gaze caught Arya's and she nodded her wish for them to do so. With light nods the twelve of them made to follow Rosalie.

"I bet it aggravates them to no end to be set to do domestic work," Angela commented as she watched them leave.

"In a way,"

"And what shall you do?"

"Whatever I can,"

Angela turned to Arya with a slight smirk, "Is this because you want to help or because of something entirely different? If I may be blunt with you Arya, but you do seem rather…relaxed today. Has something helped you to unwind?"

She gazed at the herbalist with hard eyes as she took in her comments. Before she could say anything, Angela reached forward to pat her cheek lightly, "You'll have plenty of more opportunities to _unwind_, just make sure that you don't _wear _yourself down…or anyone else for that matter."

Then without warning, she bustled away towards the hill where they were sitting setting up the wedding. Arya watched her go in shock and mortification. _How on earth did she know? _She couldn't have heard them for Arya's tent was always guard with spells to ward off unwanted presence. But…

Ignoring Eridor's laughter, she went to help the women with the bread not minding when they immediately fell silent at her presence. Though they didn't speak it, she knew that the six women were slightly wary in her presence. She was an outsider after all and that just reinforced the fact that humans hated Urgals as much as they distrusted elves. Not all of them could be like Eragon's family, Arya thought.

As her hands kneaded the dough, her mind wandered off to the family that fate seemed to be intent on manipulating. Roran was getting married to Katrina and though he may not be a dragon rider like his cousins, he was human and was able to transport an entire village to Surda despite Galbatorix's overwhelming might. That alone proved that he was an able leader. Murtagh was the son of Morzan but unlike his father, he did not serve Galbatorix but instead fought against him. While Eragon was one of the few individuals to have ever fought a shade and lived to tell the tale. His father, Brom was the founder of the Varden and the Bane of the Forsworn while his mother used to be Morzan's Black Hand, the very woman who struck fear into the hearts of those who knew her deeds. A family such as that was significant as it already was but there was more to it. Murtagh was the adopted brother to Orik of the dwarves, potential king after Hrothgar's death connecting Eragon to the dwarves. She was Eragon's mate again connecting his family to another race. Dragons, dwarves, elves, and even Urgals revolved about them.

_The complexities of the world…_

"If you knead it too roughly the dough will dry and crack," her hands stilled as she lifted her head to find herself gazing into Eragon's brown eyes. His hair, she could tell was still wet from washing and clung to his skin. And he was dressed in the clothing that her house had given him during his stay in Ellesmera. "Here,"

He poured a small amount of water into the bowl, wetting the dough. She nodded and continued her kneading as she spoke to him, not minding the conversation that had slowly came to life about her while she'd worked. "You look refreshed."

"I am,"

"Have you seen your mother yet?"

He nodded, "Brom is helping her ready for the wedding with Desdemona. It was rather emotional, it was," he paused after a moment. "I never thanked you for speaking to them about what happened."

When he was unconscious after the battle with Asura, word had reached his parents and she had to sit them and Murtagh as well as the dragons down to explain to them the entire situation. Something that was both emotional and nerve wrecking. "I know how you feel," she said.

Catching her off guard, he leaned forward to kiss her sweetly before motioning towards the hill, "Murtagh needs my help, I'll see you once you're done."

"Yes," Arya nodded with a slight smile of her own. "When I'm done, then."

With that he went off leaving her to continue kneading the dough. Her hear lightened considerably even more at his appearance, Arya mindlessly went about her work. After nearly two hours was everything ready and preparations completed.

Joining Eragon, Murtagh, Brom, Selena and the servants, Nasuada, Jormundur, Elva, Angela, and King Orrin at the base of the hill, she intertwined her hand with Eragon's. There were only two Urgals present at the wedding something that she had complications with seeing as the villagers of Carvahall were opposed to the presence of Urgals. This was one of the few weddings that she was present at. In all of her seventy years, she'd never thought she would be standing at the wedding of the cousin of Eragon, of her mate. But here she was standing beside him as they waited for the bride and groom to present themselves and walk up to where Murtagh had moved to stand at the top of the hill.

With a rustle of cloth, the crowd of the Carvahall Villagers and the Varden parted to, forming a long path to the hill and as one voice, the villagers began to sing. The wedding wasn't grand, Arya thought as she listened to the ancient song, but it was moving. As they sang, she felt a tinge of emotion from Eragon. Her grip on him tightened, he must have felt out of place seeing as everyone in his family knew the words to the song besides him. As they sang, Yaela had pulled out a small gold harp to accompany the simple themes of their melodies.

With slow steady steps, she saw Roran and Katrina emerge from either side of the crowd and without touching, turned and began to advance towards Murtagh. They truly were groom and bride, she thought as she observed them. Though Katrina had spent months imprisoned by the Ra'zac, the way she carried herself showed otherwise. For once in her lifetime, Arya understood what it meant to be in love. The passion it carried, the devotion and adoration, the serenity of knowing. It was encompassing. It was happiness.

From Eragon she felt a similar feeling of serenity that seemed to wash over her as she watched the procession, hearing the words spoken by Murtagh but it all fell deaf on her eyes. Being an elf, she didn't give attention to details such as wealth and prosperity when choosing a mate and it was because her people were equals, man or woman, in knowledge, magic, and strength. There was no dependency like the other races showed but rather a shared boundary.

"Let the feast begin!" she blinked in time to see Roran and Katrina raise their joined arms skyward. Was it already done?

Eragon tugged on her hand slightly and she glanced up to find him smirking down at her. "I did not know you were capable of day dreaming."

"I wasn't," she said, "I was merely thinking."

He chuckled, "You must be deep in thought,"

She stared at him for a moment before letting the merriment about her pour in and wash over her. With a few exchange of gifts, she watched as tables were pulled out for the feast that was to come after the wedding. "Let us celebrate!" Murtagh called over the loud cheers of the crowd.

_Indeed._

Hours passed by in the blink of an eye, people ate, drank, and danced. Mead was passed about in abundance as they celebrated and though she did not want to seem improper, she only drank a little of the mead that was offered her not preferring the acidic taste of the liquid. Much forms of entertainment was brought about for the wedding, Finny and Bard calling for a test of accuracy as they dared the spellcasters of the Varden to try to hit them with flying rocks. Eventually the tables were cleared for men to wrestle each other. Two of her own people, Wydren and Invidia awed the audience with their elegance and grace in swordplay. And after much persuasion on Murtagh's and the dragons' part, did she consent to sing a song.

She spent quite some time at the wedding festivities and it was very enjoyable. When the dancing came, Arya turned her gaze to Eragon as the quartet in King Orrin's ensemble brought to life the wedding with a rather merry tune. Eragon, she saw was busy conversing with Murtagh to notice the song, but for a strange reason she felt the desire to dance with him. Was that because of their soul bonding?

"Excuse me, Ambassador Arya," she turned to find a rather young soldier, in his early twenties she assumed, standing before her. He was tall and slightly lean with dark chestnut hair. How come she felt like she'd seen this soldier before?

She stared at him waiting for him to continue, "I-I-," he fidgeted lightly where he stood, pulling at the end of his tunic. Taking a shaky breath, he bowed to her, "May I have the honor of dancing with you?"

Arya tried not to turn away like most elves did when approached by other races. It was an instinct that she had tried to hone in for the last seventy years. Catching Eragon's eye as he turned from his conversation with Murtagh, she blinked receiving a slight tilt of his head. She felt her anger rise slightly not at Eragon's action but at the sight of Trianna seemingly appearing out of nowhere to occupy his attention. With a silent sigh, she turned to the soldier.

"You may," resting her hand in his outstretched one she tried to ignore the sweat that seem to accumulate. Letting him lead her to a spot in the dancing crowd, Arya allowed the soldier to lead her through the dance. But there were times when she tried to refrain from gritting her teeth when he stepped on her feet. He wasn't the most elegant dancer.

Twirling with him, she frowned at the sight of Eragon sipping mead as he conversed with Trianna. What could they be talking about? "You're a graceful dancer," her eyes snapped back onto the soldier. His face was still red but he seemed to be gaining the courage to ask her questions.

Not bothering to respond to him, she let him speak, "I heard that elves were graceful but I wasn't sure," he gave her appraising look.

Feeling uneasy, her lips thinned. It was like she had recently joined the Varden when she had many offers of courtship tossed her way. Apparently her cold dismissals were forgotten. "If it doesn't bother you I was wondering if you would dance with me for the next song,"

"I'm afraid," another voice spoke in, "That I was promised the next dance,"

Eragon had come to join them, his expression was indifferent but his emotions told her differently. Letting her go, the soldier dropped his hand as if shocked and immediately mumbled his leave. She stared at him as he hurried away, Eragon taking her in his arm moving to the merry tune that the quartet continued to play.

"What was that?" Arya murmured as she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You felt uncomfortable," his brown eyes sparkled. "Besides, I rather your company than a certain witch's."

"Hmm…" At the mention Trianna her eyes flashed.

His expression became amused but he didn't voice his thoughts directly to her. Twirling amongst the other dancers, the two of them continued to dance like one. But once night started settling and the bawdy jokes started coming out did Arya and Eragon decide to retire to her tent.

Falling back onto her cot with Eragon atop her, she blinked when she felt his hot breath on the skin of her neck. "I think you should share a tent with me," she murmured as her body flashed hot with need.

He made a sound in the back of his throat agreeing with her but otherwise remained intent on ravishing her. All about her the sounds of the wedding celebrations that was still going strong was drowned out, replaced with the soft rustle of sheets that Eragon's caresses caused. Feeling a hand slip under her shirt, she couldn't remember what transpired later but the immense pleasure that followed.

**So that is the end of the chapter! I'll try to update the next chapter as soon as I can but its been rather hard to do so lately, time wise. (I haven't found a solution yet and I still feel like a zombie!) And this is my second lemon! Please don't forget to review and the next chapter shall be up soon. :)**


	57. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

**I'm so sorry for the delayed wait but I was busy this entire week and I just couldn't find the time to sit down and let my hands take me away. Anyways, I'm going to keep this A/N short so you can all get to reading this chapter. **

The following morning as he sat before Nasuada, he tried not to let his agitation show at her silent disposition. Two hours before, Eragon had waked to a slumbering Arya and during the few minutes he took to admire her countenance did it finally come to him. The opportune moment to return to Du Weldenvarden to fulfill his promise to Master Oromis had finally presented itself to him. Defeating Jeremiah and retaining his soul again, Galbatorix would be unable to disturb the Varden for the while. And even if he did leave, Murtagh and the others would still be present to prevent another attack.

He'd thought that Nasuada would agree to his proposal but she was taking a longer time to contemplate than he would've thought. She didn't object to his idea at first but she didn't take to it immediately either. Frowning as he sat before her, he watched as her eyes flickered down to the open map before her. The Varden was preparing to cross the Jiet River and march on Feinster to procure the city before marching on Uru'baen. It would take the Varden at best two, maybe three weeks to march there and recuperate before laying siege to the city.

The drumming of Nasuada's fingers against the surface of the table caught his attention again as the sound seemed to float about the tent. "Why do you need to return to the Du Weldenvarden again?" She glanced up at him for the first time after he told her of his proposal.

"I need to speak with my teacher," Eragon said watching as the gears turned in Nasuada's head as she contemplated his words for the second time.

The gap between her brows narrowed as she observed him and he could distinctly tell that she not on the same line of thinking as he was. "That would be a problem for us," Nasuada sighed at his expression which was not favorable. "We need the support of the dwarves but with the death of Hrothgar, they've withdrawn to Tronjheim to deliberate the new successor of the throne. And you know as well as I do that their politics, like elves, are lengthy."

He stared at her. Matters that involved the dwarves had nothing to do with him, not in the least. The only thing that connected him to the dwarves was the fact that Saphira had promised to restore the Star Sapphire that Arya had smashed. And seeing that Arya was his mate, it seemed more so important to see Saphira's promise to the dwarves through.

"I understand that you are wary of the precarious position that the dwarves are in but you must understand, Nasuada that I am not a part of their clan meets or anything that involves them for that matter," said Eragon as he straightened slightly in his seat. "Hrothgar had adopted Murtagh."

"And Murtagh is your half-brother, therefore by law, you are also part of the dwarf's traditions and you are, _by law, _a dwarf. I can send Murtagh and I know that he will be willing to go for the good of that Varden but I need to see that your authority as an influence in the dwarfs' decisions for the new king."

"Will you listen to reason?"

"Only if you can convince me that your point of view is more important or efficient than mine."

"Then let me try," already a dozen or so reasons were forming in his mind to combat Nasuada's logic. She may be his liege lord but there were other ways to approach an idea. "I promised my teacher that when time permitted, I would return to Ellesmera and see what more of my training that I can see through. And Murtagh has no doubt promised the same if you send me on this overseeing mission of the clan meets it would not do us any good with the Varden ready to cross into the Empire and lay siege to one of Galbatorix's city. If you let me leave now I'll be able to make it back to the Varden before we reach a critical position."

Her expression was beginning to show her small inclination towards his idea. But as ever, she glanced back towards the map to judge the distance. "If you were to leave now, you'll make it to Ellesmera by dragon back in a good three to four days time if you traveled lightly and slept regularly. How long do you plan to spend in Ellesmera? I need you present for the coronation of the new king to show our support and do not say for me to send Murtagh. He is not my sworn vassal, you are Eragon."

"I did not forget."

"Good. But back to my original question. How long will you and Arya stay within Ellesmera?"

He blinked at her. He had never said anything about Arya accompanying him. Whenever had she thought of such a notion? "I beg your pardon?"

There was a faint smile upon her lips, "It's obvious that Arya will accompany you isn't it? With your current situation, putting distance between the two of you will not do you any good. And I doubt that she will let you return to Ellesmera without her company."

Her reasoning did make sense. Though he had never been apart from Arya since the intertwining of their souls, it wasn't hard to sense that the greater the distance between the two of them the greater the effect of their absence on one another. Trying to ignore the gleam in Nasuada's eyes, he forged onward. "I would say that the most time that we have in accomplishing anything is at least three days within Ellesmera. No less and hopefully no more."

"And what is it that you are trying to accomplish?"

"That even I am not sure, but there is one thing that I need,"

"Which is?"

"A rider's sword."

The lines in her forehead seemed to crease even more as she stared at the powerful blade strapped to his waist. "Is there something wrong with the one that you have currently?"

"No, it's just," he glanced down at the blade that had followed him faithfully throughout his time as a dragon rider. "Unlike a Riders blade, my blade can break at any point in a battle if I were fighting against a warrior like Jeremiah or Galbatorix himself. I need the reassurance that a Riders sword can only offer."

"Who will forge you these swords?"

"A master smith," he said simply. He did not feel the need reveal her name.

"And you believe that you will accomplish this all in the time allotted?"

He nodded. Nasuada stared at him for a long moment; her gaze unwavering as she silently calculated his proposal. After a moment her posture relaxed, relieving him. She had taken to his suggestion. "Very well, we will go with your plan, Eragon. But make sure that even if events do not proceed as you wished it to, you must travel to Farthen Dur for the coronation of the new successor."

"I will." He paused for a moment, "Do you believe that we would have any influence towards the clan meetings? I find it hard to see any politics outside of our own being weighed down by current happenings."

"They may be a powerful race but they also need our alliance if they want to return to their golden ages," said Nasuada leaning back into her high chair. "But other than that I don't believe we'll have much hold of their proceedings."

"Once Saphira fulfills her promise to King Hrothgar, I am positive that it will help to sway them over to our side."

"Promise?" Her expression became one of urgency. "What promise do you speak of Eragon? And when have you made this promise to the dwarves?"

"After the battle in Farthen Dur when King Hrothgar had called me to visit him, Saphira had promised to restore the Star Sapphire to its original state before Arya had shattered it in rescuing Murtagh."

"Can she do it?" Her expression became one of awe.

Eragon nodded with a slight smile. "She is sure in her abilities."

This news seemed to relax Nasuada even farther than his proposal. Whatever that was going through her mind, he could not divulge, but he could take a rather good assumption. Nodding more to herself than to Eragon, she remained silent until there was a call from one of her guards outside announcing the arrival of King Orrin.

Quick to avoid the king, Eragon stood at the wave of Nasuada's hand dismissing him from her pavilion. Just as he turned to leave, he could feel the stirring of emotions from Arya signaling that she was just waking. Exiting the tent from a secret flap behind Nasuada's chair, he took a roundabout route to Arya's tent satisfied at his quick thinking. He was positive that if he remained there than another round of questioning would be imposed over him. And if Arya didn't take too well to it, he was certain that his temper was going to be short as well.

As he neared Arya's tent, he could feel the growing awareness that was flooding her. She was close to waking up. Quietly moving the flap to the side, without making any noise, he moved towards her cot where she laid underneath the white sheets, her hair billowed out next to her to prevent the strands from tangling, her milky white skin glow in the light that pervaded the tent flap. He must have really worn her out. Usually she was up by dawn but it was already three hours since.

Watching the rise and fall of her chest, he gently brought up a finger to trace the outlines of the sheets against her body. Gliding over her arms, he traced her collarbone taking in the red mark he'd left after biting her rather roughly last night. Though she didn't seem to object to his aggression. Down her chest, under the swell of her breast, over her flat and toned stomach, over her thighs and legs. She stirred but barely.

He grinned, for the first time in what seemed like a long time since he'd known Arya she was tired beyond known belief. And it usually took extreme conditions to force her to sleep past dawn. He must have really worn her out. But she didn't seem exhausted last night. Then again that was before he had worn her out. Feeling slightly contrite, he gently stroked her hair. She stirred again but remained in her sleep.

_Look at that, _Saphira said with amusement, _you should receive an award. To think the day would come that we would see Arya sleeping so late into the day. _

_There was bound to be one day in a year that she wouldn't be able to uphold her rigorous schedule, _Eragon said defending his actions, _besides I also think this has something to do with the fact that she out drank herself last night. _

_More like outdid herself. _

_ Can you get any more vulgar? _

_Don't get so offended, _he could practically feel Saphira's amusement rolling off of her in waves. _Besides, when do we leave for Du Weldenvarden? _

_As soon as tomorrow afternoon, _Eragon turned away from Arya for the moment before moving to her table taking a seat on a stool as he glanced at the many scrolls and texts that she had laid out. What was one to do? He glanced back at her. She would be upset if she let her work go unnoticed because she slept in. _Are you and Eridor ready? Or do you need some time to hunt? _

_If we leave now to hunt we'll make it back before noon of tomorrow, _Saphira said the calculations rapidly going through her mind. He nodded moving to pick up the scroll that Arya was working on that showed a compilation of the Varden's movements. Staring down at the elegant and beautiful lines of her glyphs in the ancient language, Eragon moved to pick up a quill dipping it into the ink bottle that he opened.

_Where is Eridor? _

_Training with Thorn, the two of them seem to be rather competitive at the moment. It reminds me of you and Murtagh at times. Speaking of which, how is he? I haven't seen him since you and your family had sat down to speak of your condition. _

_Better now that all of the secrets are out, _he thought back to their reaction. His father had been devastated and for once, Eragon had reached out to comfort him. His mother had entered what seemed to be the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. Murtagh's reaction was beyond contemplation. He had punched Eragon outright, smashing his nose much to Arya's displeasure. But Eragon had let him be, knowing that his actions deserved retribution. _I must admit though, my nose still feels slightly odd since that attack. _

_You're just imagining it, your mate has made sure that all of the bones were healed, _Saphira said teasingly as an image of Eragon hunched over with Arya's hands running over his newly broken nose surfaced in her thoughts. _The strength of his punch must have been formidable. I never thought I heard your bones crack any louder. _

Eragon laughed sarcastically, rolling his eyes at Saphira. Leave it to her to laugh at him in his time of pain he thought dully as he began to write out the report for Arya so she didn't have to still late into the night reading and studying it up. One would've thought that since she became a dragon rider, the title of ambassador would've been given to another instead.

_Has she spoken with her mother yet? _

He paused, stilling the quill in his hand mid stroke. _No, seeing as her first report with her mother didn't turn out so well I have not disillusioned myself into thinking that she would accept our bond with open arms. _

_Look at the evidence, Queen Islanzadi believes that you and Arya are not on par. _

He growled softly, _I know that. It's just that…I would prefer to be there next time when she decides to speak to her mother again. _

_I do not think that would be of any more help to the situation, _said Saphira.

_There's only one way to find out, _he was momentarily sidetracked when there was a soft rustle of movement behind him. Arya had just turned lightly in her sleep; he smiled fondly at her before returning to the attention at hand. _There's no point in being alone in anything with our souls intertwined. _

_Hmmm…if you plan on doing so, be careful it will not gain us any favors if we insult the most powerful being amongst a race so ancient and powerful. I would like to live though bring my wrath down upon Galbatorix. _

_Noted. You and Eridor should go hunt, _Eragon said after a moment. _But can you send for some soup for Arya? _

She conceded, withdrawing from his mind to leave him to his devices. Returning to the scrolls on the table, he continued to compile the report letting it ease his mind. It wasn't until a runner knocked on the post that held Arya's tent up did he remember that he'd asked for something for her to. Going to retrieve the soup, he promptly ignored the runner's awed expression before returning to Arya. She was still sleeping judging from her emotions, he could estimate that she would wake in another ten minutes or so.

And he was right.

As he was compiling her report, he paused when he felt a hand reached out to slide about his shoulders from behind. Leaning back into her warmth, he tilted his head back to be greeted by her sparkling emerald eyes. A soft smile was spread across her face something that he'd grown used to. "Good evening," Eragon said with a smirk watching as she frowned slightly before letting the matter wash over her entirely. "You slept for quite some time."

"I was tired," the look she gave him made him grin. "When have you waked?"

"Near dawn," he answered with a thoughtful expression. "I haven't been tired lately."

"I can tell," said Arya dryly as she scratched his scalp.

Returning to her original question, he answered her in a rather bright voice, "I've been with Nasuada to talk about my next course of action."

"And that would be?"

"To return to Du Weldenvarden," surprised emanated from her but she didn't voice it. "It would be impossible to leave the Varden once we cross the border between Surda and Alagaesia. With the dwarfs retreated in their mountains to choose the next processor of the throne, Nasuada has been becoming rather anxious. If Murtagh were to travel to Farthen Dur to participate in the hall meets and we travel to Du Weldenvarden, we can easily make it back to the coronation and before the Varden reaches Feinster."

She stared at him for a moment her eyes looking but not seeing as she contemplated his words before speaking, "And when will you leave?"

"We leave tomorrow afternoon," Eragon said as he stared up at her. "Meaning that you will have to rest well tonight if we want to make good time."

Arya's lips parted to reveal her strong, white teeth as she bestowed upon him a smile that was so bright and beautiful that he felt momentarily dazed. It was as if she was…dazzling him without knowing that she was. His thoughts muddled momentarily, he stared at her at a loss for words. _What was he saying again? _

After a moment of thinking, he blinked, "You don't mind do you?"

She shook her head, her hair moving about her face in a cascading waterfall. "Not at all," pulling away from him, she smoothed her hair away from her face. Taking this opportune moment, he reached forward to hand her the bowl of warm soup for her to eat.

"Mushroom soup," Eragon said as she took a sip of it. She nodded her eyes moving to glance at his report that he'd compiled for her.

"Oh, you did not have to," Arya said as she stared at the quill in his hands.

He shrugged, "It was either that or sit here and watch you sleep," he added quickly, "Which I enjoy but I thought I might as well be productive."

"Indeed," she took another sip of the mushroom soup. "Would you like some?"

He politely declined instead returning to the report, Arya hovering behind. "You're writing is rather elegant," She commented.

"Thank you," Eragon said with a grin.

"Though I must say, it looks as if you paused quite a lot," she pointed to the difference in ink darkness. "Having some trouble thinking?"

"You're rather merry today,"

She disregarded that and continued to sip her soup, opting to watching him and that was how he spent the rest of the day, compiling the report underneath her watchful stare.

**I know its short but there's nothing much to write here. Anyways I'll update soon enough. **


	58. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

**Hello everyone, sorry for the delay but I had to work things out with my new Beta (Zukafew119) and I want to personally thank all of those who've PM me and offer to take the job. It's not easy being a beta reader and to know that you enjoy my story enough to consider doing so is just amazing really. Anyways, this chapter is a very crucial chapter that I needed to make sure didn't hold many mistaks because the plot will be unraveling from this point until the end. And hopefully all of you would understand the suddeness of it and enjoy it like I do. Anyways R&R! **

Fixing the laces on his black leather boots, he stared at the worn leather with a critical eye. The once strong and fine material was worn away from the tedious ventures that he'd been through as of late. He was going to need new boots. Maybe when he returned to Ellesmera he would ask for some. Or he could always make himself a pair from magic. Debating the subject, Eragon felt himself frown when a shadow passed over him.

It was merely a vulture.

_Who'd died now? _He wondered wryly as he stared at the large, dark, bulky bird. So far, there was no sign of Saphira and Eridor. If they didn't return within the hour, it would delay them in their traveling to Du Weldenvarden. Straightening from his bent position, he rolled his shoulders lightly letting the muscle relax. The tent area was cleared up and the saddles were ready with their bags tied expertly to them leaving him with only one task and that was waiting. He hated waiting.

It made him feel restless. After a moment of merely standing there, he set out to find the one person that he found both amusing and knowledgeable: Angela, the herbalist. His feet carried him as he wove between the rows of tents and lines of men as they went about their everyday life within the Varden. Nodding to those who greeted him, he otherwise remained indifferent to most. They were very optimistic, he thought as he watched them, for all he could see there wasn't one show of discontent amongst the men. _Appearances can be deceiving at times. _

Though he doubted his thoughts, a thought struck him as he watched them work; defeating Galbatorix was the only thing that united them all. If they did manage to defeat him, after that what would happen to the Varden? Would it simply dissolve and become a part of the Empire again? What would Nasuada do when victory smile upon them? He hated to think about it but there was a great part of the Empire that was accepting and used to Galbatorix's rule and to suddenly have a resistance group overthrow an Empire that was around for a near century would disrupt society. If anything, riots and rebellion would erupt in the streets if there wasn't order to quell it.

But who would be that new order to uphold the laws of the land? For a long moment, the thought of Queen Islanzadi taking control made a chill run down his spine. If she could control Alagaesia, she would no doubt. But the land had always belonged to humans since the elves had abandoned the flat plains and raised mountains for their lush forests. He couldn't imagine the dwarves taking it for themselves; their mountains were enough for them. His thoughts wondered to the large, muscular race of the Urgals. Once the war was done they would return to their halls in the Spine and be done with it until their population grew and they needed to spread out.

That left the biggest concern: Surda and King Orrin. He wasn't merely supporting the Varden for his own will. No, there was more to it. He wanted the spoils of war that was promised to him upon entry in their fight. It was only natural that he would want so. Would he go as far as to fight for the crown?

A chilling voice answered his unasked question, "He will if he believes that it is his right."

The hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end as his ears registered the high voice and his mind felt the presence of another. He turned to find a young girl dressed in black, her violet eyes peering up at him, an unnatural smile upon her lip. "It's been a while since we've last spoke, Elva."

"It has been Eragon Shadeslayer," her voice was still as out of place as when he first heard her speak. Glancing about them he blinked when a shadow seem to shift. But his worry was misplaced as it was only a child running about the tent that his family stayed in. "If you fear that someone might overhear us speak, then let us walk to the bend of the Jiet River."

He followed her, she seemed much better than the first time he'd met her and that was when he remembered Saphira telling him of how Murtagh's spell allowed her to ignore the need to shelter others from pain. "How are you feeling?" Eragon asked cautiously.

"That I want to stab myself in my left foot on my small toe," she pointed to a tall, slim man about fifty yards away. "In his haste, he'd stabbed himself." _Well, that is quite a way to start a conversation. _Her eyes found him again. "You seem much better than before."

"You know?" The question left his lips before he had time to think about it but he had a strong inkling that nothing escaped the young child.

She laughed, "Does that bother you that I do?"

Eragon thought about it for a moment before shaking his head lightly. "No, but I do like to be under the illusion that you do not know all of my secrets and fears." At his slightly disgruntled tone she laughed again.

"I do not," they came to a stop near the bend in the river, the rushing water loud in their ears. Taking a seat on the ground with her legs crossed at the ankles, she patted the spot next to her. He sat hesitantly. What could it be that she wanted to speak to him about? For a moment the only sound that pierced the silence between them was the rushing water but then Elva spoke again, her voice impassive. "Ever since you and Arya had joined souls, your fears have become confusing to separate."

This new piece of information pleased him. Elva was not a considerable foe anymore than. As if sensing his emotions, she raised a dark brow at him. Arya's own emotions began to tip slightly towards irritation. Was King Orrin annoying her again? He could only speculate. The thought of the king brought back his original train of thought and Elva's response to his silent question. "You said," Eragon began tentatively, "that he will if he believed that it was his right. Why would you say such a thing?"

Her expression clearly told him that he was a missing the larger piece of the puzzle. "You've led me to believe that you are an intelligent person, Eragon. Does it surprise you that King Orrin would want to gain Alagaesia as part of his own?"

"No," he answered truthfully after a moment of thinking. "It was always a possibility."

Elva nodded, "That fact has not escaped Nasuada and neither should it escape her vassal. If the Varden wins this war, he will be your greatest enemy and ally. But you should not worry yourself so."

"And why is that?"

"Because none wish to see Orrin to ascendency over such a large empire. He cannot lead a nation," he blinked at her outright insults at the monarch of Surda. It was a good thing that they were alone and even if they did have company, they wouldn't be able to hear the conversation over the rushing water of the river.

"He's doing it rather well now," Eragon countered watching the amusement grow on Elva's face.

"Yes and that's because his house has resided over the small kingdom for some time now, even then it is his ministers that advise him crucially," she poked at the dirt beneath time. "But he cannot motivate a mass like the Varden. His disposition is too eccentric, too formal. He can never rouse an army as Nasuada had and that is key to being a leader."

"Have you something against King Orrin?" Eragon asked slightly suspicious. From what he'd heard, the young man was rather kind towards Elva.

"When fighting for a cause, one most make sacrifices and he wants to make the least," she said simply. He nodded. After a moment of thinking he glanced at the young girl. All that he knew about her was that her talents were used by Nasuada to keep assassins at bay but other than that there was nothing else that was known about her. He wanted to ask but for a reason, it felt rather intrusive. "Do not loss confidence when speaking to me, Eragon."

If she was insisting, "Do you believe we will win, Elva?"

Her violet eyes were piercing as they gazed at him but he did not falter. Her answer interested him greatly. "I do," she said slowly as if to prevent any misunderstanding. "With Nasuada leading the Varden with such an iron grip and three dragon riders to combat Galbatorix, I do not see where we can go wrong."

"Ah," he nodded. She didn't know but he did. The Eldunari were not a public fact and that alone tipped the balance of power greatly. There was also the matter of what Galbatorix was trying to search for. The thought of it unsettled him greatly; he was close when Eragon had left him for the Varden. He'd an entire century to look for it. And now he was almost upon it: the true name of the ancient language. With that magic would be rendered useless unless he willed it. The elves, especially, would be at a great disadvantage.

How was one supposed to combat that strategy? Galbatorix would be untouchable if they didn't stop him now. He agreed with the king that the use of magic was a danger to the land but to control it would destroy a way of life. He thought about Arya and how she would feel if her magic was rendered useless. It would anger her to no end. But there was another thing that he had been thinking about: the vault of souls.

Ever since Solembum had told him about it, his mind had wandered to the vault every night. There was a way; he knew it, to counter the true name of the ancient language. Could it lie in the vault of souls? Even if it wasn't magic didn't necessarily need words, it was just easier to speak the incantations than set thoughts to it because words channeled the magic and thoughts if distracted could easily draw away the attention of the caster. And that small lapse in attention could easily kill a magic user.

Spirits, Eragon thought, could use magic without the use of the ancient language. But how? And where would he find spirits who could help him? If he wasn't careful he could end up creating a shade. Staring at the ground, he sighed. "Do you believe that we can win?"

He started forgetting momentarily that Elva sat beside him. His distress did not go unnoticed by her but she kept quiet about it. "Yes," said Eragon after a moment. "Only if I can find a way that will lead us there."

Elva nodded, and then she spoke again, "Then let me ask you another question, Shadeslayer. Do you believe in the afterlife?"

That was a far cry from the subject at hand and it disarmed him. Letting the question float about in his head, he lifted his shoulders slightly in a shrug. "I cannot say I gave it much thought."

She blinked, her violet eyes knowing, and the next words she spoke unsettled him, "Those who die do not truly leave us."

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly. Instead she didn't answer him and turned her gaze skyward.

_Those who die do not truly leave us…those who die do not truly leave us…truly leave us…those who die… _

The words tumbled in his mind repeatedly but there was no connection. What was there in death then? His eyes stared intently at the ground not actually seeing what was before him as he thought ardently. The dead did not walk Alagaesia not that he knew of. He had heard about strange and unusual occurrences but none like this. For a moment he imagined Tornac walking about, his body transparent against the background and nearly burst out laughing.

Ghosts didn't exist. Not to his knowledge at least. When one died, their body was lowered into the ground or burnt to ashes to be spread into the air. There was nothing more to it. "Ghosts don't exist, Elva." Eragon said after a long moment.

"I never said that they did," came her reply. She sounded like she was enjoying herself. Only she would think his confusion was of any entertainment. "But think about it for a moment."

"There's nothing to think about," Eragon said resolutely. "Ghosts do not exist."

"When one person dies, Eragon," Elva spoke slowly. "Their body dies but does their spirit die?"

He glanced at her for a long moment. "I wouldn't know."

A sound of exasperation rose up from her. "Think Eragon! Do the dead really leave this land?"

"Alagaesia—"

"Exactly!" Elva cut him off midway.

"What does this have to do with Alagaesia?" as he said the words the idea slowly manifested in his mind. If the ancient language had a true name then why didn't Alagaesia have a true name? The land itself was a living, pulsing sea of energy. Not only because of the plants but because of the buried bodies from fallen warriors and people. A land so large and filled with so much raw power that was built up century after century. And then there was the elves singing their heart and soul into the trees of Du Weldenvarden. But did such a name exist? Was it even possible to divulge it when Galbatorix had to use a century to search for the true name of the ancient language?

It was such a slim hope that he couldn't bring himself to believe in his own train of thought. Why had none of the magicians before him had tried to divine the true name of Alagaesia? The spirit of the land that allowed them refuge? "That's not possible," Eragon said hesitantly, doubting his own words as it left his lips.

"Do you really believe that?"

He frowned staring at her before saying, "Even if it does exist, I'll never find it in the time allotted. In another few months, we'll be upon the plains of Uru'baen and Galbatorix will be coming down on us. There's no time, Elva."

She didn't respond to him, and if anything her silence seemed to anger him even more than her words. She had a silver tongue. But she hadn't once used it on him and it angered him that she was allowing him that moment to think for himself.

"Even if we did divulge the true name of Alagaesia, how will it help us when he has—" he stopped cutting himself short. Elva couldn't know about what Galbatorix wanted to uncover. It was too dangerous. And if anything he had an obligation to inform Oromis, Murtagh, and Arya first hand. The discussion was turning down a dangerous path and that was when he decided to draw the line. Standing, he gestured towards the position of the sun in the sky. "We should be returning to the Varden camp, the dragons should return soon."

She smiled at him knowing that he was in an uncomfortable position, "Let us return then."

Unnerved, the two of them walked side by side as they headed towards the main body of the camp, where it was showed that the conversation was at an end. But even then his thoughts were in a mess, jumbled together and what not. Elva had instilled within him something he didn't think possible: a great hope. But he didn't know how to get it. What was he supposed to do? There was no reference to Alagaesia being called another name and he was sure that none had ever thought of it as a land other than Alagaesia.

Feeling like his body was on fire; he clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration. To know such an idea but not having the willpower to move on it. _The dead do not truly leave us. _Did that mean that they became a part of Alagaesia? It made sense. Just as the two of them submerged themselves in the mass of tents that was called the Varden, Elva turned to him in departure.

"I shall see you another time, Eragon Shadeslayer."

With that she turned to leave in the left direction, leaving him to his confusion. It was too much. Just too much. Unable to think of anything else, he made his way towards his mother's tent. He needed a distraction and he had yet to say goodbye to his family. Even if it was a short trip, it always made him nervous leaving his mother behind. As he made his way towards the large tent of his parents, he was greeted with the sight of his servants and Murtagh's guards lounging outside of the tent. Well, not merely lounging but rather guarded and relaxed at the same time.

As he was nearing, Rosalie who was conversing with Blodhgarm glanced up at his approach. He smile was blindingly bright. "Lord Eragon," she stood to greet him. Rosalie looked much better than when he saw her after he woke from his injuries. Instead of being caked in dried blood and filth, she was clean. Her clothes weren't torn and her hair was its healthy shine of dark red. The biggest difference was her emerald eyes which weren't red from her tears but shining brightly.

"Rosalie," he glanced warily at the elves. He didn't think they trust him but at his approach they didn't change their stance nor glanced up. He nodded to his other servants who excitedly greeted him. "Are my parents in their tent?"

She nodded, "Murtagh is with them," she blinked up at him, her eyes seeming to do silent calculations as she beheld his image.

"Is something wrong?"

Rosalie merely shook her head, opting not tell him her train of thought. He stared at her for a long moment before inwardly shrugging to himself. If she wasn't going to tell him then he wouldn't push her about it. "I'll go meet my parents then." Acknowledging the elves for a moment he pushed the tent flap aside and entered the tent.

The sight that greeted him made his heart clench slightly. His mother was sitting on the bed; her pillows propped up against her as she ate her soup, her belly large and round. Brom sat on a stool on one side of the low table that was centered in their tent and opposite him was Murtagh. The three of them stopped in their conversation and glanced up at his entrance. His mother smiled at him as she sat straighter, "Eragon," her voice sounded pleasantly surprised.

"I wanted to see you," he went to sit down beside her on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" his mother asked.

"Well," and he meant it to the fullest.

"Are you sure?" Brom asked his expression one of slight doubt. Eragon nodded. It was getting easier to interact with his father but he still couldn't help the slight resentment that rose up in him when he caught Brom's eye.

"Absolutely," he quickly saw a flash of emotion in Brom's eyes but ignored the thought altogether if he didn't want to voice it then there was no reason to bring about the subject. Glancing at Murtagh, Eragon spoke, "You are leaving for Farthen Dur." It was not a question but rather a statement. He was sure and absolute in his answers.

"When you leave for Du Weldenvarden, I'll be departing for Farthen Dur," said Murtagh with a rather dull expression. "Nasuada wishes to see a monarch sympathetic to the Varden's cause. If I'm lucky then they would not spit on me when they see me."

Eragon snorted slightly, that was right, the dwarves did not take to it kindly when King Hrothgar decided to adopt Murtagh and by extension Eragon and Roran into his clan. He glanced back at his mother and her swollen belly. It hurt him to leave her seeing that she was very close to labor. But he knew that his servants would take care of her no matter what.

"Another month or so and you'll have a younger sibling," his mother said serenely. Eragon tried to fight the grimace that fought its way forward. Bringing a child into the world at such a depressing time . . . He blinked erasing the thought from his mind, he should be happy not morbid about the situation at all.

"Yes," Brom agreed, "We'll be a real family then."

The silence that reigned then wasn't uncomfortable but it held a great truth that no one, not even Eragon dared to refute. Because deep down, in his own heart he'd realized how deeply he wanted that statement to become true. To fix the relationship with his family and it seemed so close at hand, he could almost see it happening.

_Are you ready to depart?_

Grateful for Saphira's interruption, he swiftly stood. "Saphira and Eridor have returned," said Eragon. "It's time we've left for Du Weldenvarden."

Murtagh also stood in one fluid motion, "Then it's time I leave as well," he said. He quickly gave Brom a one arm hug and tenderly kissed their mother on the forehead goodbye. Eragon moved to kiss his mother farewell as well before stopping before his father.

Not knowing what to do, he searched his mind. Coming to a sudden decision, he lifted his hand towards Brom. His father seemed disappointed but had gripped his hand firmly, "Fly safely," he advised.

Eragon nodded, releasing his hand watching as Brom went bustling about the tent to grab an old tattered book. He held it out to him. "Here, I wanted to give this to you before you left. It's a rather thick book but I'm sure you'll enjoy its contents soon enough."

He gripped the voluminous book in his hands and nodded not able to find the words to speak. Letting Murtagh lead him out of their tent, the two of them accompanied by the twelve elves and Eragon's servants made their way over to the clearing where the dragons were waiting. And to his surprise, the saddles for Saphira and Eridor were already strapped onto their backs. "This is where we depart then," said Murtagh as they came to a stop before the dragons.

Eragon nodded, gripping Murtagh's offered hand. "Take care of yourself in Farthen Dur, the dwarves are not kind. Their granite halls and cold chambers are proof of that. Trust in no one besides Orik and his clan."

"I will see to that I take your advice to heart," said Murtagh with a faint grin. "And you take care as well. Do not cause trouble in Ellesmera."

He grunted but otherwise did not make a rebuttal. "It's time," Arya's musical voice floated over to them and he watched as she stepped away from Eridor's bulking mass as she finished securing one of his straps. Her emerald eyes flickered to Murtagh. "A safe journey to you, Murtagh."

"And to you as well," he inclined his head to her.

Eragon caught her eye, seeing the questions in them but he slightly shook his head. He would explain to her his emotions earlier that day when they were out of earshot. Moving towards Saphira to tuck away the book, he turned back to the small assembled crowd waiting for them. While Arya was busy speaking to Blodhgarm and the others, he turned to his servants.

"Take care of yourselves," said Eragon.

"Yes, my lord," they murmured.

"I'll return soon and until then you must take care of my mother."

"Of course!"

"Leave it to us."

"We'll not fail you."

He glanced at each one of them, their bright expressions accompanied by their smiles and grins, it was infectious. Trying to fight his own chuckle, he nodded at their willingness. Of course they wouldn't object, they'd followed him for so long now. "Right, shall we Arya?"

"Let us depart," mounting Eridor, she waited for his to mount Saphira and secured his legs. With one last look to the others, Eragon watched as they slowly became smaller as Saphira and Eridor ascended into the vast sky giving him a clear view of the land below.

_Alagaesia…_

**Now I know you all have a lot of questions and if you want answers just leave a review and I'll try to adress it in the next chapter. But anyways, the explaination to my way of thinking: since trees and plants are considered sources of energy, I thought it would only make sense that Alagaesia itself could be considered this great entity of energy because of the life embedded in it and the dead that are buried in the land. And personally when I first read that Galbatorix was trying to find the true name for something I honestly thought it would be for Alagaesia and not the Ancient Language because it made more sense to me. Anyways, the way Eragon defeated him in the end was just lacking the passion I thought it would have. This made completely more sense to me. If they knew the true name of Alagaesia then the Ancient language wouldn't be a necessity in fighting Galbatorix off but I won't tell you everything just yet. The next chapter is already halfway done but be warned, it probably won't be uploaded until the end of next week because of my new Beta Reader (thanks to you again!) but I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and my new plotline. And do tell me your thoughts in your reviews if you plan on leaving one! **


	59. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

**I'VE RETURNED! Well I'm not even sure if this will be permanent. A year has gone by and plenty has happened to me. Since it's been so long I believe I owe you all an explanation. This last year I've been focused on work with little time to relax and lately I've been into this group called Girls Generation (people look this group up! Special shout out to Kim Taeyeon!). Absolutely in love with them. Been visiting places here and there, South Korea a big one on the list. Been working my butt off and I've been finding my spare time trying to relax by playing video games until of course PS3 goes out of commission. Anyone know where I can get one for cheap? Haha. This sounds like a ridiculous excuse for my absence seeing as I promised to finish this story. But I've been enjoying life a lot lately. Everything's been going smoothly and I thought that it was time to finish this chapter and post. I'm not sure if I can do the weekly updates that I've done in the past but I'll try my best. Good news though, I've been working on my own novel this past year and a little more I'll be done. Maybe I'll get my big break there. Anyways sorry for the long author's note so R&R! **

He gritted his teeth as Arya's soft and nimble fingers lightly glided over his left arm which was twisted at a rather oddly bent angle. Her emerald eyes were narrowed in concentration as she assessed the situation and she paused momentarily at the spike of pain that shot through his system at her touch. Earlier that night, while they were sparring, he had made a rather reckless move and as a consequence; he'd twisted his left arm.

Her emerald eyes flickered to his again. She blinked. Gritting his teeth, Eragon nodded giving her he affirmative to go ahead with her course of action. Reaching out to his wrist, Arya firmly gripped it in her right hand as her left hand gripped his upper arm. Then without giving him a warning, she twisted his arm back into place causing his muscles and bone to snap under the strain of it all. His vision going black momentarily, Eragon gasped as the intense pain shot from his arm to every single vein in his body.

When his vision cleared, her worried face was hovering over him reflecting the dim glow of the firelight. _If only you listened to my warning, _said Saphira from where she sat on the other side of their camp with Eridor, her head resting on his.

_Leave it, _said Eragon suddenly tired. After three days of arduous traveling they'd made it to the outskirts of Du Weldenvarden, meaning that they were right on schedule. Saphira glanced at him then she snorted, amused by his sudden attitude.

"Does it still hurt?" murmured Arya as her fingers glided over his arm.

Eragon shook his head, "Not as much as it did before," he flexed his left arm experimentally and found that the pain was almost nonexistent, before giving Arya a grateful look. Her eyes darted away to the campfire and for a moment he couldn't exactly pinpoint the feeling that was welling up within her. It clicked after a few seconds, she was embarrassed! Even though she had twisted his arm—purely accidental of course—Eragon didn't hold it against her one bit.

As he contemplated, his eyes moved to the mass of the large forest before them cloaked in the shadows of the night. It was very intimidating to look at it from this point of view. Ever since they'd left for Du Weldenvarden three days ago, Arya had become more tense and stiff than usual. And whether it was the thought of returning to her home that bothered her or returning to her home with him as a mate that bothered her, he did not know. After a moment of debating, Eragon sighed and stood stretching, "I'm going to look for a stream to bathe, the sand on my skin is not exactly pleasant."

_Do not wander too far, _said Saphira.

He nodded glancing at Arya's turned back before trudging away towards the sound of the stream to the east of their campsite. It didn't take long for him to reach his destination and when he did, Eragon gratefully slipped into the water, his clothes lying folded on the bank. There was a tremendous amount to think about, though Eragon as he let the slightly chilled water wash over his limbs refreshing him.

Ever since they'd left the Varden, Elva's advice had remained in his mind through the day and night. It was like a small voice was whispering the secrets of her words to him over and over again. The true name of Alagaesia was not a farce, for that he was sure. But he couldn't bring himself to wholly trust in that alternative to win this war. There just wasn't enough time to find it without starving a mass of people or having Galbatorix crush them. Whatever he had to do was a loss to him.

Then there was Solembum and his own riddles about the Menoa Tree and the Vault of Souls. Eragon smiled wryly leaning his head back into the water, _riddles upon riddles, _he thought wryly. One would think that with a war about them, they would at least give him straight answers.

And apart from that, there was Arya to think about. Her sudden withdrawal and silence made him worried. After their rather intimate encounters after he was healed, he'd thought it would bring them closer together. And though they hadn't consummated their bond yet, their entwined souls was proof of their devotion to each other and yet her mood concerned him. There had been only sweet kisses and tender caresses since they'd left for Du Weldenvarden and even then it felt as if Arya was not with him, as if her mind was occupied on something else.

_Maybe I should ask her, _thought Eragon, _but then didn't elves always prize their privacy? _

He frowned and with a frustrated sound submerged himself into the water of the stream. Holding his breath for a while, he emerged again gasping for air.

_Clear your mind Eragon! _He mentally berated himself. Now was not the time to worry over Arya, when she felt comfortable she would come to him.

"May I join you?" nearly jumping from his skin at the soft sound of Arya's voice, Eragon turned to find her standing uncertainly on the bank of the stream. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts he didn't hear her approach. Remembering her request, his face flushed as he nodded and trying to give her some privacy, he promptly turned his back to her.

Ignoring the sound of the rustling of clothing as it fell to the ground, he adamantly refused to turn around when he saw the ripples in the water meaning that Arya did indeed join him. She only came to bathe. Once he was done, he would leave to give her some privacy to do so. But to leave would mean that he had to turn around and Arya was behind him. Eragon was positive that the moment he saw her, he would lose all rationale.

It was somewhat irritating and enjoyable to know that his physical attraction to Arya had taken great new heights since their soul bonding. Enjoyable in that she too found the pleasure in it and irritating in that he always had a constant need to be with her. There was a spike of amusement in his emotions.

"Is something the matter Eragon?" asked Arya, he heard her treading lightly over to him before a cool hand touched his shoulders.

"I could ask you the same," he replied as he turned in the water to face her. Her hair was floating on the water, making a pool of darkness about her. He glanced at her beautiful face and was unsure of what to say at the moment. His mind couldn't seem to process the fact that she was being intimate with him since their departure from the Varden. He cleared his head. That wasn't important at the moment. "You've been rather withdrawn since we've left from the Varden."

Her dark emerald eyes were bright in the dark, she lowered her hand wading out further into the stream glancing up at the moonlight. Eragon turned his head to follow her movements, waiting for her to speak. He could feel he emotions, a troubling worry which clawed at him.

"I've been thinking lately," she started.

"I wouldn't say lately," Eragon never liked to joke or attempt to joke but he was always willing to make an effort for those he cared about. Unexpectedly, Arya snorted slightly.

She continued, "For seventy years, I've been traveling outside of Ellesmera, outside of the forest that was my home only to return as a dragon rider. And now, I shall return once more with a mate." She turned to him. "The more I think about it, it seems that I return a different person from whence I left. I was young and ignorant of the world about me, ambitious in my own right when I left seventy years ago only to return after having crossed many leagues across Alagaesia, seeing my companions fall before my eyes. Meeting new people, sharing new sights apart from the forest, and most importantly I returned home as a dragon rider, I became the hope that my people sought ever since the rise of Galbatorix. And now I shall return once more, with you for a mate."

She paused turning to him with a slight smile, "How odd it is to come back and meet those who shared your memories and your past to see that time has left them unscathed and yet it has changed me."

"Outside of the lush green forest that is home to the elves, time is the deciding factor in life. That's why humans can be called fickle and yet some can say that they live life to the fullest," said Eragon, having experience in this particular area. He understood the essence of time more than anyone truth be told. Arya nodded.

"Immortality…Or shall I say, the closest we, elves, are to the concept seems to have made us into a stagnant race," she fell silent for a moment before taking in a breath and disappearing underneath the surface of the stream. Eragon blinked glancing at the surface of the water which was shining dimly in the moonlight. A few seconds passed before she surfaced before him, fully drenched, her hair thoroughly wet. "Change…it doesn't come without a price."

"This world hangs in the balance Arya," said Eragon softly, "To gain you must sacrifice."

"I always thought I understood that thought," she said as she stood before him. She scoffed softly staring up at him, "Or maybe I was more naïve than I would like to admit."

"No one is born wise and I certainly don't wish to claim that I am more so than you are," said Eragon trying his best to find words for his feelings. He reached up to touch a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. "But sacrifice is a sign of courage, and those are vital to leaders. Maybe that's why you were chosen by Eridor to be his rider."

"And why you were chosen to be our leader," said Arya reaching up to place her hands on his shoulders. "I understand from meeting you that age does not always deem who is right nor who is wise. It's meaningless otherwise we surely wouldn't be following such a young rider."

It was a slight tease for her part.

"How humorous," said Eragon as he watched her. She didn't say anything but turned her head to the side as if something caught her attention then. He stared at her and how her hair parted to reveal her milky white neck and the water droplets that clung to her skin. He felt his heart pound in his chest.

Was he suddenly a pervert now?

But the pounding of his heart continued and he felt a familiar hunger rise up within him so strong that he had to do something. It was urging him to devour her. Half aware of what he was doing, he walked forward and reached up to wrap his arm around Arya's waist in a steel grip surprising her. "Eragon?" he dimly heard her voice.

His dark desire spurred him on, lowering his head against the crook of her neck he licked the water off of her skin. Was this animal instinct his he thought dimly as held her in his grip. She was trying to say something but he cut her off as he lifted his head and met her lips with his. He felt her surprise stirring in him but the desire to devour her won over. He wanted her both in spirit and body. Unable to stay still any longer, he let his hand glide over her skin, trying to memorize every little detail.

She was trying to say something between his rough kisses. What was she trying to say? He felt her move. Then the next moment they were both falling through the cool stream. His senses came back to him then. Waking up from what seemed like a daze, he surfaced with Arya next to him gasping for air. What happened?

"Are you alright?" he glanced at Arya noticing her worried stare but he could only think of the emotions that passed through him. The need to devour her…the familiar crazed hunger. Was that the spirit of Asura? But didn't he conquer his spirit? Why was he still feeling that way then?

Later that night while Arya was sleeping beside him, he couldn't find it in him to close his eyes. What if he closed his eyes and woke up as Asura? His eyes darted over to Arya as she slept. The moment he took in her slumbering form, he felt the dark desire in his body tremble. Turning over on his side, he closed his eyes trying to get some sleep.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Arya as they landed before Oromis's hut. He grunted feeling sore. It was too early thought Eragon as he stared at the large golden mass that was Glaedr. Everything was reminding him of the bright sun in the sky lately. "A typical response."

_He's just not a morning person, _Saphira laughed in his mind as he slid down from the saddle onto the ground. Coming out from his hut the same as Eragon had left him was Master Oromis. The four of them greeted him in the traditional greeting. Though Eragon had always thought of such formalities as tedious, he had learned better than to disrespect his master else Arya would have a thing or two to say about him. That would be unneeded.

When he straightened Eragon met Oromis's aged eyes with his own. His master studied him for a long moment before his expression changed to a faint smile, "You've changed," he said it with certainty. Eragon inclined his head. "When you first came here your eyes were those of one that sought revenge fueled by your hatred. Now it is something different."

"Much has happened outside of Ellesmera," said Eragon as he and Arya followed Oromis to the tables and chair taking a seat.

"Time goes on," said Oromis as he motioned for the two of them to sit. "Would you care for a drink?"

"If it does not trouble you," said Eragon. He watched as Oromis poured him and Arya a golden liquid in wooden cups, handing it to them. Their master studied Arya with a keen eye. She met his stare not out of pride but out of respect.

"You've come back whole Arya," murmured Oromis. Whole? He glanced at Arya feeling her surprise swirl within him. What did that mean? But as always, elves were never free with their answers. Leaving the subject Oromis took a seat before him and folded his hands neatly on the table. "Now what is it that you've wished to discuss with me Eragon?"

"Our time is limited," said Eragon propelling the discussion forward. They still had to travel to Farthen Dur for the coronation of the new dwarf king if they'd chosen one. If not, their presence there would undoubtedly speed up the matter considerably. "I believe Master Oromis that it is time to tell Arya of the secrets behind Galbatorix's power."

Beneath the table, he felt Arya's fingers touch his hand and her gratitude flowed through him. He knew how much it bothered her that she didn't know and now was the time that she was rightfully told as a dragon rider of the new age the secrets of the dragons. Oromis remained silent, his eyes darting to Glaedr. The golden dragon lowered his head, staring at Arya with its large golden eyes as if testing her will.

He snorted as if pleased with what he saw. _The source of Galbatorix's power lies in the hearts of the dragons. From us, he steals his strength. Without our aid, Galbatorix would've have fallen to the elves and Varden long ago. _

"Your aid?" her brows creased as she listened to his words.

_Dragons are unlike most animals. Though many believe that the mind and body is one, for us it is not. When our body dies, we can still live without the outer shell. In our heart of heart our spirit resides detached from our body, separate entity and yet one. We call this the Eldunari, the ultimate source of our power. A source that Galbatorix has stolen from the bodies of the dragons he slew. A source that he has enslaved to his own devices. _

"Eldunari…" repeated Arya, she glanced at Eragon, "You knew about this Eragon?"

"I was trained under Galbatorix," said Eragon reminding her of his dark past, "It shouldn't be a surprise that I know about the on goings in his castle." She didn't say anything else but accepted his words however he could feel that she was bothered.

She turned back to Glaedr and Oromis, "You said that dragons are separate in mind and body but what of Eragon? His own heart was split in half and merged with that of a spirit. Would humans also have a heart of heart?"

"We've considered the possibilities since Eragon has arrived to us by chance of fate," said Oromis a deep look on his face. "Galbatorix has managed to split Eragon's soul when he was younger. A possible theory is that as a child, the mind and body have yet to transform into one entity. Due to that, he was able to split a part of Eragon's soul. However, because it is unlike an Eldunari. He split off the very core of Eragon's being making it more unstable. There are many flaws to this theory but if it helps to understand the basics of what I'm trying to say than it is sufficient enough."

_His very essence huh? _Eragon glanced at the golden liquid in the wooden cup before him. He saw himself but it didn't feel like the person looking out was actually him.

"My mother knows of this?" asked Arya, her emerald eyes gleaming.

Oromis bowed his head, "It is only naturally that the queen knows what goes on in her kingdom."

He could feel the slight hurt that Arya felt. Behind her Eridor gently nuzzled her head to comfort her. "The heart of hearts…if one were to break that would mean that the dragon would truly die then?" asked Arya. Oromis nodded in confirmation. "And as far as we know, Galbatorix holds the surviving Eldunari in his grasps?"

"It is a sad truth," said Oromis, "But they are at his mercy."

Arya remained silent, the information flowing through her. He felt her elation at the fact that they dragons were alive and the anger that followed at how Galbatorix was using them. But there was another underlying feature. They sat there talking about the Eldunari more with Oromis and Glaedr explaining to Arya any questions she might have.

"Had you returned with Murtagh it would be more convenient to explain to you as a whole but the workings of the world believes otherwise," said Oromis. He fell silent before glancing between Arya and Eragon, "May I ask as to what has happened on your travels since you've left?"

Eragon hesitated and with the help of Arya, Eridor, and Saphira told Oromis of what had transpired since he left the safety of the forest. Whether or not his masters were curious or alarmed at what he said, he didn't know for they listened with the same deep expressions throughout his stories. Even when Eragon struggled to tell them that they he and Arya were now mates. However he thought he did see a gleam in Oromis's eyes at that certain detail.

"Perplexing how so much can occur in your mere months from Ellesmera than the years I've spent living in here," said Oromis as Glaedr huffed blowing a torrent of air against the lush grass. "So it seems now that you and Arya are connected."

"Have you ever heard of such a thing Master Oromis?" asked Eragon. His master shook his head.

_Never had we thought it possible to bind the souls of humans and elves, _Glaedr stared at them his own thoughts perplexed. _If we are not careful of the ears about us, others may try and recreate such a bond on their own. _

"I'm afraid so," said Oromis with a grave expression. "What has happened to you and Arya has never been heard of in our history Eragon. You cannot freely speak of it to others for cruel experiments will be carried out to see if one could replicate this soul binding for their own uses. While Arya sacrificed her entity to save you, others will see this as a way to profit from."

"Of course master," murmured both Eragon and Arya.

"Now, have you noticed anything different as of late between you and Arya?" asked Oromis at his words, Eragon felt his face sting as he thought of the many nights he woke up with the desire to devour Arya. He fisted his hands. He couldn't say that aloud. It would make him look lecherous. He was also positive that Arya would not be too happy about his unruly emotions.

"I can feel Eragon's emotions without having to connect our minds," explained Arya, "And sometimes even with the slightest use of magic, I could feel his spirit channeling energy into me." That was right. They'd realized that a few nights ago when Arya went to light the fire for their camp and ended up creating a whirlwind of flames without meaning to.

"And you Eragon?" asked Oromis with a questioning look.

He stared at Oromis and then Arya who was waiting for him to speak. He experience everything Arya described and more. He oftentimes felt his magic getting the best of him and would subconsciously call on it without meaning to. And he wasn't sure himself but the color of his spells had changed slightly as if tinged with a different hue.

He heard Saphira snort in amusement before she spoke. _It is impossible for me to rest without being awoken with his ardent feelings for Arya. _He nearly broke the table as he knees hit it in his surprise. _It's a sensation similar to that of a dragon's raw instinct in mating. _

"I see," Oromis started at Eragon his eyes looking like they had mirth to them. Slightly mortified that his animal urges for Arya were spoken so freely, he glanced at her to find her looking intently at Oromis. Was she mad? He couldn't feel it. "The only explanation is that the spirit that Eragon's soul consumed, Asura, merged with his own in the bridge between both of your souls. As such, your soul, Eragon, mirrors his in a way. Spirits like Asura often feel the need to devour and ravage their surroundings in an effort to release their hatred. It could be that with Arya as your bonded mate that your soul desires the same in terms of Arya."

_The desire to devour Arya…_He felt his heart pound at the thought of it.

"Will it ever subside?" Arya asked no doubt feeling his embarrassment keenly.

"That I do not know," Oromis glanced at them, "Before we move onto a different topic of discussion I would like to see a demonstration of your skills." Eragon nodded, "There will be no need to use your swords lest you might wound each other. A blunt blade is not always a safe blade."

Eragon nodded as he and Arya stood to face off. He could feel the rise of competition rise up in Arya. She didn't know what losing felt like until she met him and he was sure that she wanted to redeem herself in some way. They waited trying to gauge each other's moves. He felt a slight change in her emotions. The next second she ran towards him much faster than he could anticipate. Feeling her emotions, he easily dodged her attack and doubled back. Their bond was a double edge sword. He could anticipate her moves and she could read his. Jumping backwards, Eragon leapt forward slamming the heel of his right foot to the ground. To his surprise, the force of it sent cracks through the ground.

Was that his strength? Or was that Asura's?

_Use magic, _he heard Glaedr's voice rumble through his mind.

Gathering the energy in the palms of his hand, he was about to shout the words but was surprised when the spell took shape of its own. It was a torrent of light sent towards Arya but something odd happened as it reached her. Instead of hitting her square on, it merely spun about her not harming her in the slightest. Was that a fluke?

He tried again, this time a different spell but it had no effect. His spells didn't seem like they wanted to harm Arya. And the same went for her spells, the harmlessly went pass him and he could tell that she was getting frustrated. When they were done, Eragon blinked in surprise when a ball of golden light came flying towards him but the moment it did so it stopped short at a ward covered around him. The attack illuminated a purple and green ward. He saw strange symbols twirling about him and green wisps of magic that no doubt belonged to Arya.

"Did you put a ward on him Arya?" asked Oromis, she looked embarrassed to say so but she did with a nod.

"This tinge of purple, it must be Asura's soul," said Oromis, "You no doubt have absorbed his powers. Try using magic on me Eragon," at his hesitant glance his master merely smiled, "Don't worry as long as you don't attack with the intent to harm I will be fine."

Eragon nodded. Taking in a deep breath he reached for the words for a simple spell but before he could utter the words, the spell took shape of its own. He wanted to us _brisingr_ but the moments he thought of it, flames leapt from the palm of his hands shooting through the air toward Oromis like a dragon after its prey. That was when he noticed the change in his blue flames, it shimmered showing green tinges to it and outlining the sapphire was a dark violet. Cutting off the spell, he watched as Oromis deflected the attack extinguishing the flames.

"Your magic has become much stronger," said Oromis with a critical eye. "And there seems to be a connection between you and Arya when you use magic." His master seemed occupied with the events trying to find a decent theory to explain their connection. "Never before in history has such a thing happened."

"Therefore it is for us to find out the limits of our bond," said Arya as she joined them. Oromis nodded.

"I apologize that Glaedr and I cannot supply sufficient answers to your questions," said Oromis, "If there is anything else that you are seeking I shall try my best to answer you."

"We're searching for a decent weapon for Eragon," said Arya as she motioned to his lack of an extra sword. Eragon was a master in dual wielding. But he had been going through sword after sword since one of his was snapped in half with his battle with Jeremiah. "Oftentimes, the warrior's life depends on his weapon."

"Basic knowledge," Oromis nodded, "However I'm afraid to say that there is no rider's sword that exist for you to use Eragon. Lord Fiolr has given Arya the heirloom of their family to use to wield. It is best that you ask Rhunon for counsel on such matters."

"Of course master," said Eragon, he told him of what Solembum told him. "He mentioned that I should find a weapon beneath the Menoa tree if I ever needed one."

"I know of no such weapon, Eragon, and I am well acquainted with the lore of this forest," Oromis saw his disappointment. He felt Arya's nimble fingers on his arm. Was he not going to be able to find a decent weapon to wield? "However do not end your search merely because I say so. I suggest seeking out Rhunon's advice before doing anything else."

They spoke more about what else they should do before Eragon and Arya took their leave. Their dragons turned away from Glaedr whom they seemed to have been conversing with. While Arya climbed onto Eridor, Oromis spoke to Eragon once more.

"Yes master," Eragon waited for him to speak.

His aged face was lined in a smile, "Contrary to what you may believe, it is refreshing to see a rose bloom amidst the dangers of war. My blessings go with you and Arya."

The first elf to accept their bond, Eragon smiled.

"Thank you."

**What do you guys think? Personally I feel like I've been losing my flare for writing. I hope I still have it. And for all of you readers who were upset with my lack of updates I apologize but life calls and sometimes you have to pick up the phone. Anyways, I don't know when I can post another chapter but hopefully it'll be soon. And I also apologize for any typos, I don't have a beta reader anymore. So be kind to me after my long hiatus! Hopefully we'll see each other soon! **


	60. Chapter 56

Chapter 56

**And so another day, another chapter...Is this another filler chapter? Maybe...Or maybe not. I find myself thinking of how to better progress to the ending that I want and sometimes end up surprising myself. I don't make sense do I? Hehehe. Anyways, I was free today and decided to write this chapter. Lately everywhere I go I bring my laptop (since I'm working on a project and my own novel). So I just pulled up word and began typing away. Enough of my rambling here's the next chapter everyone. R&R. **

From the Crags of Tel'naeir, the four of them made their way through the dim caverns of the forest to the tunnel of dogwood trees that led to the open atrium in the center of Rhunön's house. As they emerged from the tunnel, Eragon could hear the hammering of a chisel. Coming into his line of sight was Rhunön sitting on the bench of the open-walled forge in the middle of the atrium. He watched as she hammered away with the chisel at the heavy block before her. It certainly didn't look like any sort of art to him. Then again, it looked as if it was a new project that she was undertaking.

"So the two of you are still alive," said Rhunön not bothering to glance up at them else she might cause a mistake in her work. Though her attitude reminded him of any elf, he wasn't bothered that she deemed her life's work more important than him. It was a refreshing attitude. However annoying it may seem at times. "I was told by Oromis that you're in need of a true rider's sword."

At least she was brusque as always thought Eragon as he watched her chisel with inhuman speed. "My other sword snapped as I was fighting on the Burning Plains," Eragon explained to her, he was sure that she was going to attack with the chisel as she glanced up from her work.

"Had you used it correctly in battle your sword would not have snapped so easily especially since it was not pit against a rider's sword," she frowned as if displeased with him, "Serves you right. A waste of a sword and a beautiful one at that."

Eragon stared at her. There were plenty of things that he wanted to say but before he could it was Arya that spoke, "Rhunön-elda, rather than volleying words back and forth, we've come to ask a request of you."

"I know what it is that you want of me and I'm afraid that I cannot provide it for you," said Rhunön looking as if she lost her earlier spirit. It was quick how the mention of her lost work could drain her of her energy.

"Because of the oath that you swore?" asked Eragon as he walked towards the heavy block on the ground studying it. What was she trying to craft he wondered as he reached out to touch it. The moment he did place a finger on the block, her hammer came flying down on his fingers once more. Gritting his teeth as he clutched the same three broken fingers that she'd crushed before, he turned to her his eyes blazing, "I asked you to forge me a sword not redo my fingers!"

"And I've told you never to touch the work of another's!" retorted Rhunön with a deep scowl. He was content to glare at her but then something began to happen with his fingers. A green light wrapped around his injuries healing the bones and skin. He glanced at Arya. Did she do that? But she merely shook her head. Her magic acted on its own?

Rhunön didn't seem the least bit interested but continued, "And even if I want to forge you a new rider's blade, I lack the required materials to do so. Had the rider's blade been constructed of any metal, it would be a much easier task to carry out. However, they are not. My finest works are not made from metals of this world but from the ore of a shooting star that had fallen to the forest centuries earlier. By chance I stumbled upon the ore and returned it to my forge where I worked and experimented with it. When the time came that I was asked to forge the first rider's blade, I did so using that type of ore, _brightsteel _I call it. That was how I was able to forge a blade that was stronger, harder, and more flexible than any other. Since the last rider fell, I've search far and wide for the brightsteel but found none and without any procured this conversation is just useless blather."

"And if I found you this brightsteel you will consider making me a rider's sword?" asked Eragon with a raised brow.

Rhunön's eyes narrowed, "If you can find me the materials I require than we might begin to consider a sword for you."

"I shall hold you to that," said Eragon turning away from her, "Violent elf…"

At his words he felt amusement emit from Arya as the dragons snorted. Saphira nudged him as they walked toward the glade where they could take off and make for the Menoa Tree. _Careful if you make anymore jabs at her she may not forge you a sword. _

Eragon merely snorted, "She would just smash my fingers once more," he glanced at Arya, "Why didn't you warn me?"

"I had thought you would have learned from your last experience in her forge," she answered her emerald eyes sparkling. He merely grunted. If only his memory was that reliable. He climbed onto Saphira as she winged her way to the Menoa Tree. If worst comes to worst, they may have to use violence to awake the old tree. Its consciousness didn't seem like it was intent on paying attention to anything but the sun and rain.

With a faint whisper of wind, the dragons alighted upon a root several hundred feet from the base of the Menoa Tree. _Whatever you do, do with caution, _said Eridor as he followed them to the tree. Do with caution. What was there to do? With ease, Eragon slide down onto the root with Arya beside him. With nimble grace, the two of them ran up the root to the tree trunk with the dragons carefully and cautiously following their large mass splitting and cracking the bark they trod on.

Now how did one wake a slumbering elf-tree? He thought about it for a moment as he stood near the base of the tree trunk staring at the ancient tree. Arya seemed just as lost, she turned to him, "Whatever we do we can't resort to violence, the Menoa Tree is much more powerful than we are and she will not take to any sort of offence lightly."

Eragon snorted, "Seeing how she stabbed to death her lover I would think so," said Eragon dryly. Arya merely sent him a look that told him that he should watch what it was that he said. His lips thinned but he did as she warned. Facing the tree, he placed a hand against its bark. First and foremost, he had to awaken her consciousness. She may be a tree but she was an elf before that.

Summoning all of his resources Eragon flung a mental shout at the tree hoping that it would listen to his plea. But to no avail, it did not work. He continued knowing that defeat should not always mean that he should abandon his task. On several occasions Saphira, Arya, and Eridor combined their strength to awaken the Menoa Tree.

It was useless.

He growled feeling frustrated. _Eragon…_He heard Arya's warning in his mind and took in a deep breath. If he attacked the tree it would be their downfall. But how useless was this elf-tree? He understood that the spirit of what was once Linnea was saddened by her sins but she could at least awaken when they needed her help.

"Now is not the time for anger Eragon," whispered Arya as if afraid to disturb the peace.

"If only there was a way to dig underneath her roots," said Eragon frustrated. "It would be but an easy task to let the dragons burn away the wood…but it would cause more to offend your people rather than accomplish our task."

Arya nodded trying to placate him with her emotions, their minds still connected and touching that of the Menoa Tree. He could feel her soul resonating within his spreading waves of calm feelings upon him. He was impatient and she knew that more than anyone else. That was why he was willing to share such a bond with Arya because she understood him and everything about. He was willing to sacrifice everything for her. His entire being if he was called upon. Just as the thought was crossing his mind something happened.

A thick cloud of water droplets fell to the ground hitting both him and Arya. The dragons started in surprise as the branches of the pine began to tremble reacting to something that he couldn't see. Had she finally awakened? Trying to maintain his footing he blinked when he heard the groan of wood rubbing against wood filled the air. The trees that ringed the clearing seemed taller and more angular as if trying to close them in.

Had he done something to anger the Menoa Tree?

He blinked as a root as thick as his arm came out and wrapped itself around his left ankle immobilizing him. He glanced behind to find Arya free of imprisonment. Had he done something? Saphira started forward her jaw open ready to send a blazing torrent of flames on the trees but Eragon shook his head. Whatever was happening, he didn't do anything to harm the Menoa Tree and was certain that it wasn't going to harm him unless he struck first.

_That feeling…it is a strange feeling, _a voice sounded in their minds. It was a slow, whispering voice that reminded Eragon of rustling leaves. The voice continued, _Who are you? What are you? Why are you here? To mock me? _

Mock her? He blinked. Had he done something to scorn her? _I am Eragon Shadeslayer and this is the dragon with whom I am bonded Saphira Brightscales._

_I feel the presence of another within you, one with you. _

She meant Arya? He glanced at his mate, she spoke cautiously. Whatever it was that stirred the Menoa Tree, they had to be careful for it seemed like the spirit of the tree acted on whim and without discrimination. Whether or not he was a dragon rider or the most vile criminal in Alagaësia he was sure she would treat him the same.

_I am Arya Dröttningu and this is the dragon with whom I am bonded Eridor, _Arya continued speaking directly to the Menoa Tree. _We reached out to you in hopes that you would awaken from your slumber. Have we done anything to cause you any affront? _

_The crown princess of Ellesmeŕa. I can sense that you are noble of heart and strong in spirit, however you are foolish in emotion, _the Menoa Tree spoke though it's voice a whisper in their minds Eragon still felt the insult behind her words. Arya was cautious and unmoved.

_You speak of my choice of mate are you not? _

_He will betray you, _the voice sighed. Now Eragon was getting annoyed. If it weren't for the fact that Saphira was warning him to stay silent and that Arya kept placating him with her emotions he would've spoken up without paying heed to manners. _Scorn and spurn you. He will abandon you. _

Why that tree—!

_Eragon let Arya speak, _said Saphira intently, he glared at his dragon, _she may be insulting you but this is a conversation between the hearts of women. You will do well to hold your tongue. _

_My rider shall handle the Menoa Tree Eragon, _Eridor's voice rumbled in his mind. _She knows eloquence and how to handle such situations. _

_I believe you've mistaken our bond, _said Arya ardently as if just annoyed as he was with what the Menoa Tree said about him. _He saved me and for that I will always be grateful to him. I understand our difference in age, race, and beliefs but that doesn't mean we can't overcome it. I've accepted him. _

_I can feel him within you, _whispered the Menoa Tree. _Your bond…_

_I chose to use my soul as a bridge to save him, _answered Arya in response to the Menoa Tree's curiosity. _He is a part of me as I am a part of him. You understood the great feelings of love before haven't you Linnea-elda? _

The branches moved past each other and the leaves rustled at the use of a long abandoned name. _I am her no more. I am the forest, the embodiment of what I love and hold dear. You said you will sacrifice for her. _

This time the tree spoke directly to him. _I did, _said Eragon.

_Do you think that is the way to love someone? _The tree was curious. Had it forgotten the feelings of love? Or did it merely choose not to remember?

_Rather than sacrifice, I want to protect her and the only way I can do that is if I can have the ore beneath your roots, _said Eragon waiting on baited breath for her response.

_You know what you speak of, there is indeed a nodule of brightsteel ore buried at the very edge of my roots, but I want to see…_

See? He blinked as the root on his ankle tightened the ground underneath him opening up to form a pit. Instantly he was dragged down into the pit the roots of the Menoa Tree closing in on him blocking out the light. He was being buried alive? He was about to claw his way up but roots from beneath the dirt came out to grip him.

He tried to reach out to Arya and the dragons but found that his mind was blanketed. Was the Menoa Tree trying to suffocate him alive? Was this a test? The only thing indicator that he was alive was his beating heart and Arya's emotions whirling about within him. He felt her worry and her anger at the Menoa Tree for treating him as such.

_Is this a test? _

Seconds passed and it felt like minutes to him and minutes to hours. It was so dark. He felt like he was suffocating. Like he was dying. Was this how the dead felt? To be buried underground. To be so close to the Earth. He felt the bugs crawling towards him, latching onto his skin as if to take back what was rightfully part of Alagaësia.

_Am I rotting away? _

He found it hard to breathe. The ground was restricting, the branches that imprisoned him made it hard for him to think clearly. Magic, he could use magic to make his way up but the moment it crossed his mind he felt a strong presence press down in his mind suffocating him. Smothering his senses. This was how it felt like to be dead no doubt. This darkness, it wasn't strange to him, it felt familiar like he had visited it before. Of course he had. A great part of his life before he joined the Varden all he could remember was darkness. The dark cell he was locked away in. The dark training under Galbatorix. The darkness of his helm that he wore.

_I'm not afraid of the darkness…I just hate it. _

…_Because it's too familiar. _

…_Because it made the light seem so bright. _

As he laid there, he tried to focus on his emotions swirling within him. A part of him longed for the darkness. Was glad that it was there because it closed him off from the rest of the world but another part of him wanted out. Wanted to be above the ground. Wanted to continued living. He felt her then in that instant, stronger than ever. He felt Arya as if she was right next to him. Her strong emotions, her tender affection, and her blazing determination.

They were connected.

_I can't die! Not yet! _

The thought suddenly occurred to him as he opened his eyes. _I still have to face Galbatorix! Until then, I won't lie down in my grave! _He didn't know what caused the Menoa Tree to release him but she did. The roots drew away and the dirt was cleared to shine down on him light. Taking in a deep breath of air, he jumped out of the suffocating pit onto the ground coughing.

_Eragon! _He heard Saphira's relief echo in his mind as he crouched on one knee inhaling and exhaling rapidly. He felt Arya's hand on his back as she brushed the dirt from his clothes. "How do you feel?" she asked worried.

"Like I was reborn," said Eragon as he stood to face the Menoa tree. The pit that had encased him had closed up hidden by the thick roots. The ground began them shake beneath them as a myriad of roots began to pull apart to reveal another bare patch of dirt. He was wary. Did she plan on burying him again? But out of the patch of dirt emerged a corroded lump of iron.

_Here is your metal, _whispered the Menoa Tree. _Take it and go…_

She was giving to him just like that? It was like the world had shifted back to normal. About them the clearing was like it used to with the trees back to their original position, the threatening ring gone. The presence of the Menoa Tree left them disappearing in on herself and her eternal slumber once more. While he was staring at the tree in puzzlement, Arya thanked her.

"She buries me and then gives me the ore," muttered Eragon as he picked up the lump of brightsteel. They started back on foot to Rhunön's house. "How typical of an elf."

Arya snorted not taking offense at his words, "It was a lesson to be learned," he glanced at her hoping that she would explain, "Life comes from death. And she was testing you."

"For what?" asked Eragon with a grumble.

"Your will," said Arya as they walked, "In any case, she didn't really do you any harm."

"Why didn't you help me?" asked Eragon glancing at Arya.

She turned her green eyes to him, "I was trying my best to keep Saphira from starting a fire in the forest." But as she said that he caught a glimpse of her hands which were dirtied from digging in the dirt. He glanced away in case she spotted him staring.

"Where did you find that?" demanded Rhunön as Eragon placed the ore before her feet for her to examine. Not enjoying that he was nearly buried alive for the ore, he told her of what happened. At the end of his story Rhunön burst out laughing, her hoarse voice sounding rather odd to his ears. It was much different from Arya's musical laughter.

"I'm surprised she didn't strangle you alive. It is one thing to scorn a woman but another to mock what she couldn't have," said Rhunön glancing between Arya and Eragon. "Whispers have traveled through the forest since you've returned that the two of you have become mates. I can only assume that it is true after what you've told me."

"So the Menoa Tree was angered that Arya and I are a bonded pair?" asked Eragon. He scoffed in his head. _Women…_

Arya's eyes darted to him and she raised a brow daring him to repeat what he said aloud. He turned away from her knowing that he was defeated. In his mind he heard Saphira's rumbling laughter. _How easily you bow to your elf. _

_It's not that…_Eragon denied.

"Anyways, is this the ore that you require to forge me a sword?" asked Eragon moving back to the topic at hand.

"Several swords if my eyes have yet to fail me," said Rhunön studying the ore. She turned to Eragon clapping her hands together in a sort of prayer like way, her eyes gleaming with eagerness and determination. He was wondering if she portrayed any other emotion than annoyance. "You've brought me the brightsteel that I required. Rather than let such a precious metal go to waste, it is time I've made you a sword. One that will speak of your true mark in this world as a dragon rider."

"When will it be done?" asked Eragon. If Rhunön knew how to circumvent her oath, it would no doubt take some time for the blade to be finished.

"When must you return to the Varden?" asked Rhunön.

"As soon as I can," answered Eragon. She nodded her expression of contemplation.

"There is only one way to speed up a process that takes days to complete. Even though I dislike using magic to accomplish something that dedication and skill require, it is needed in this case. We shall not rest until you have your sword Shadeslayer."

He followed Rhunön as she picked up the ore and moved to her bench. Trusting in her, he changed into a jerkin and work apron for the upcoming tasks. "Do you need my assistance?" asked Arya as she stood off to the side watching them.

Rhunön shook her head, "To speed up the process, if you could channel energy into Eragon when he falters, it will prevent our work from being delayed." She nodded and made her to sit on the bench comfortably watching him. The process was tedious. Because Rhunön refused to use magic to build the smelter, they spent a good portion of the afternoon building the complex structure and then another great chunk of time melting the ore by pumping the bellows and shoveling charcoal into the smelter to infuse with the brightsteel. While he was sweating from the heat and exerting himself, he could tell that Arya was enjoying watching him work. She had told him during a short break of his for a drink that she rarely had the chance to see him do physical labor. It was appealing in short.

When they were done with the physical labor, the next step was waiting and he was rather impatient. He joined Rhunön and Arya at the bench to rest as the brightsteel cooled enough for Rhunön to work on it.

"Now what sword would you like to have?" asked Rhunön. "I make the weapon but it is important that the weapon becomes a part of the rider, almost an extension of the arm. For example, Arya's sword, Támerlein is the same length as Zar'roc. However, I'd modified it to be thinner to fit Arya's fighting style more else it would not serve her to the fullest in battle."

"I want to be able to use it in all instances," said Eragon as he thought of the sword that would best fit his fighting style. "Preferably, the same length as Támerlein but not a two handed sword. That would be burdensome in battle. A hand-and-a-half sword perhaps."

"A sword for all occasions…" muttered Rhunön deep in thought. She withdrew a piece of twine and began measuring both his hands and arms, "You're ambidextrous are you not Shadeslayer?"

"I am," said Eragon with a nod as she continued her measurements.

"How do you fight?" asked Rhunön not bothering to glanced up at him.

This Arya answered, "He dual wields Rhunön-elda."

"Two blades? I take it you don't care much for protection," concluded Rhunön. She was right. He didn't need the protection of a shield nor did he want to. He would rather use two swords in a fight instead of one. "Dual wielding has its benefits despite the disadvantage in guard. Most people are unable to fight with two swords however and that is because they lack a fast reaction time in battle. If one is not apt at using two swords, it would come off as clumsy."

"I can hold my own with two blades," said Eragon as she finished. She gestured to his two sword lying off to the side. He'd taken them off earlier when he was required to build the smelter with her.

"Let's see a demonstration," she said. He glanced at Arya. She understood the meaning behind his expression and stood to join him outside of the forge in the open space. He unsheathed his swords and reinforced them with spells to prevent them from breaking and to prevent from causing any harm to his partner. Arya was waiting for him with Támerlein in her hand as he stood to face her. Unlike their usual spars, this one was in a rather enclosed space. It was open but it was limited in that it was not a wide enough clearing for them to freely fight.

Without a second thought he charged at her. A second passed and he was right upon her, his two swords swinging upward. She jumped back, dodging his attack with as much grace as a gazelle as it ran through the open fields. Giving himself some space in order to regain his bearings, he fell back with light jumps. Seeing his retreat, Arya gave chase her green blade flashing in the sunlight. They sparred for a few moments before Rhunön called for them to stop.

"It is time to make your sword," she said.

"How?" asked Eragon glancing around the forge, "Do you by chance have an apprentice of some sort that will make it?"

"Apprentice? I have no time for such things," Rhunön stared at him with a slight smile, "You will be making the sword Shadeslayer."

At her words, Arya laughed as she sheathed her sword, "Meaning you will be guiding his hands to make it. An imperfect solution but one that works nonetheless Rhunön-elda." Eragon glanced between the two of them unsure of what was transpiring.

Later on as Rhunön had taken his mind into her, he felt rather awkward. Could she see everything? His thoughts flashed to Arya and in an instant, he immediately pushed them away. No, if he didn't think of it then she wouldn't see it. Or that was what he thought anyways. His arms and legs moved according to her bidding. It was a good thing that he had the comfort of Arya's emotions within him for he found it extremely difficult to give up command of his body to the elf woman. But he had to trust her else he would never have a rider's blade.

Letting her go about her craft with his body, he was tempted to argue with her when she _accidentally_ hammered his fingers. The very same ones she hammered twice before. But before he could complain, the same green mist came forth from nowhere and healed his fingers. _This was…_

_Pay attention _said Rhunön as she continued to work with his body.

He snapped to as she made him work endlessly on the sword. He forged, hardened, and tempered the blade. And when that was done, he polished the blade a task which would usually take a week but was shortened due to the magic that was used to craft the blade of the sword. When they were done and he was released from her hold, he nearly fell over from exhaustion. Pulling himself together, he sent Rhunön a questioning look as she cradled the blade like a new born babe to her bench to continue her work.

"Am I done?" asked Eragon.

"You are but I've yet to finish," said Rhunön not paying him any mind, "Good and rest. I'll call for you when the sword is complete. You will find a bed on the second floor of my house." She didn't say anymore. Frowning at her still brusque attitude, Eragon followed her instructions. He passed Saphira and Eridor and bade them good night.

As he made his way to her house, he spoke to Arya, "Will you not rest as well?" asked Eragon. She must be tired from channeling her energy into him when he needed it. She shook her head.

"There is something I would like to ask of Rhunön-elda," said Arya as she reached forward to touch his arms which were coated in sweat. "You need to rest and when you are well rejuvenated, a good wash is in order."

He must look the part of a laborer thought Eragon for her to say such things. "I shall see you when I wake," said Eragon parting from her towards Rhunön's house. The moment he laid down on the soft mattress, he instantly fell asleep.

**What could Arya possibly want with Rhunon? Who knows? You'll find out in the next chapter. But good job Eragon, good job. Now to describe how I felt when reading this scene from the actual book. I thought that it was missing plenty considerably. The first is what did the tree really want from Eragon? Never explained as was plenty of other mysteries that CP left for us. I find myself oftentimes frustrated not knowing what was supposed to be. For example what were the seven words Brom told him before he died? What were they? Arghh! Hopefully I can fill in some holes in this story. Anyways, see you all soon! **


	61. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

**Another chapter up and running. I hope I can keep this streak going because I really want to see the completion of this story which I've been working on/off for the past two years. That's definitely a lot of time. About this chapter, I really tried my best to keep away from CP. I feel like I'm torn really. Question for you readers, though this story does follow a similar path as the original do you see it differently as you read it? I hope you do. Apart from that please enjoy reading this chapter. **

He felt something prod his mind awake as he was slumbering. He was too tired to acknowledge the presence and continued to sleep drifting between his waking dreams. _Eragon, _said Arya her familiar mind connecting with his. _Rhunön is growing impatient as you slumber the day away. _

Eragon opened his eyes wide awake. His body was sore but he forced himself to sit up. It wasn't enough sleep to rejuvenate him but he couldn't complain. Rhunön was no doubt just as tired as he was. Sliding his feet into his boots, he laced them up and stood. Walking from the second floor and down the stairs, he exited Rhunön's house and made his way to the open-walled forge where the others were waiting. Saphira and Eridor were lying awake by the forge and he caught sight of Arya sitting on the bench, pale but awake. He could sense waves of exhaustion coming from her. Rhunön wasn't any better, there were dark bags underneath her eyes, signs that showed that she'd worked through the night. The sword lay before her, concealed beneath a length of white cloth.

"I have done the impossible," she said as he stopped before her. She sounded hoarse and it appeared that her emotions were getting the best of her at the moment. "I made a sword when I swore not to! Not by my own hands and with magic to complete a process in which a week's time would be needed. Neither crude nor shoddy. It is a sword of perfection, a sword that shall complete your mark as a rider. Behold!"

Grasping the corner of the cloth, Rhunön pulled it aside, revealing the sword.

Eragon glanced downwards and felt his eyes widen. He blinked wondering if his eyes were fooling him or if he was simply too tired. But they weren't. Before him wasn't one sword but two. They were twin swords each mirroring each other. The blade was covered with a glossy scabbard of the same dark blue as the scales on Saphira's back. The sword was beautiful and he didn't dare say it aloud but he thought that it was more beautiful than any other rider's blade that he'd seen. The blue of the sword and scabbard with its myriad of veins that shined white reminded him of the sky.

"I don't understand," said Eragon glancing up at Rhunön, "How come there's two swords?"

At his question, Rhunön scowled her eyes darting to the seated Arya, "I was asked and persuaded to make you a second sword because it was the best way to unleash your true potential in battle. Normally I would never make one rider two swords. Consider this repayment to your father for not being able to replace his lost sword."

He glanced at Arya but she was staring at the ground as if embarrassed by Rhunön's words. He reached for one of the blades but stopped. His eyes darted to Rhunön's hands, she wasn't carrying a hammer. However…

"May I?" asked Eragon cautiously.

She nodded, "You may. I give these swords to thee, Shadeslayer."

He reached down and picked up one of the swords. It was light in his hands, drawing the blade out Eragon was awed by the light blue of the blade. He twisted his hand slightly watching as the light gleamed off of the iridescent blade, the webbed veins shifting before his very eyes. He twisted the hilt within his hand, easily releasing and gripping the dark wooden hilt. The blade was silent as it cut through the air. To think he fought without a rider's blade all this time. He paused before glancing at Arya. She looked too tired to spar with him but he still wanted to test the strength of his blade once.

"Eragon," he glanced up at Arya's call catching sight of the glinting emerald blade in the sunlight. Reacting quickly he brought up his sword to parry her blow. The blades slammed into each other with enough force that he was afraid his sword would crack. But it remained whole in his hand. Satisfied, he watched as Arya sheathed Támerlein.

He studied the thin blade, eyeing its sharpness. After a moment, he lowered his sword arm and inclined his head to Rhunön, "Thank you Rhunön-elda," said Eragon glad that she had put so much effort into the making of his swords. "I'll make sure that Galbatorix does not forget the strength of a rider's blade when I face him."

Rhunön nodded pleased with his words, "A fitting punishment for collecting my swords for his own purposes. Now you are truly a Dragon Rider!"

He nodded, "Yes, now I am," he stared at the blade once more watching the sunlight beat down on it.

"Now all you need left to do is to name your swords," said Arya as she resumed sitting on the bench. _A name? _He stared at the swords his eyes running down the length of the blade. This was the blade that he made, he could feel it pulsing in his hand as if it recognized its owner. He stared for a long moment at the iridescent azure. It reminded him of the flames that Saphira could rain down on her opponents with ease. The same flames that illuminated the darkness for him when he was younger. The flames that only grew as he grew older.

He held the sword out before him decided, "Sword, I name thee Brisingr."

Coming to life as if he had wished it, his sword burst into flames a steady tongue of blue fire wrapping itself around his blade. He stared at the razor-sharp steel surrounded by the dancing sapphire flames. It was as if the blade itself was alive. He stared at it for a moment longer before realizing that it was he who was channeling the magic into the sword. Confused, he stemmed the flow of magic and watched as the flames died out leaving the blue blade.

"Did you set fire to it on purpose?" asked Arya staring at his sword. Eragon shook his head.

"Say it again," said Rhunön. He did as she asked and once more, blue flames enveloped his sword. It was like Saphira he thought as he extinguished the flames both beautiful and dangerous.

_It's not often that you flatter me, _said Saphira her tone delighted as she stared at his sword, _A fitting sword that is. And here I was thinking that blue-claw-red would fit the sword. _

He inwardly chuckled, _blue-claw-red does sound like a good name. _

At his words Saphira hummed, pleased with herself. Rhunön reached out for his sword. He handed it to her watching as she spoke its name. But it did not respond to her as it did to him. A shiver ran down the length of the blade otherwise it remained unaffected. With a look of deep contemplation, she handed the sword to Arya. The moment it touched Arya's hands, he saw the pulse in the blade, it was resonating with her contact. "Brisingr," she said holding the blade out from her. To Eragon's surprise, the flames came to life this time however it was different. There was a tinge of emerald to the flames as it licked the blade. She extinguished the fire and returned his sword to him.

"Either your personality was imbued in the blade when you made it or you found the true name of your sword," explained Rhunön as she studied Brisingr, "Perhaps both those things are what has happened. However, I can offer no explanation as to why your sword reacts to Arya. In any event you have chosen well Shadeslayer. Brisingr! Yes, I like it. It is a good name for a sword." He handed the sword to her so she could mark the blade and scabbard with the fire glyph. His attention turned to the remaining sword that was waiting for him on the bench. It was the exact same as the Brisingr even if he didn't make the blade himself.

"I requested of Rhunön-elda if I could make the sword for you while you were resting," said Arya as he stared at the same identical blade. His eyes darted to her and he wanted to express to her how much it meant to him that she would do physical labor such as he did yesterday to forge a second blade for him. He couldn't however for they were in the open and elves were sensitive of private matters. He only hoped his emotions were enough to express to her how he felt.

The blade pulsed within his hand and he could feel a part of Arya within the deadly weapon. He stared at the blue and thought that he saw a slight tinge of emerald but that could be Eridor's scales being reflected in the blade. To name this blade was much harder. It didn't belong entirely to him. No, it was an embodiment of his relationship with Arya. She had saved him from Galbatorix even if she didn't realize it herself. Because of her he was able to see new sights and interact with different races. Eragon's mind wandered to Arya. She'd left this forest seventy years ago as an ambassador of her people, outcast by her own mother. She wandered back and forth from place to place for the Varden and their purposes. She was like him in a way but then she wasn't. He thought of himself and his past life. He had no home, no place of origin. Urû'baen wasn't his home and neither was the Varden, Farthen Dûr, or Du Weldenvarden. He knew it then as he stared at the blade that Arya had made for him.

"Vrangr," said Eragon watching as the blade pulsed to life. He didn't think that it would react in the same way that Brisingr did however another phenomenon occurred. The blade resonated with power the edges lined with a dark violet light while the webbed veins of the blade itself glowed emerald. He stared at it for a long moment before touching the tip of the blade against one of Rhunön's broken tools, the tip melted a hole in the metal with the lightest touch.

_When you combine the names of the swords, it becomes Wandering Fire, _said Saphira staring at the blade in his hand. Eragon nodded, it was a fitting name for the both of his swords. He drew out Brisingr and held it by Vrangr. As he expected the two blades pulsed beside each other, resonating strongly in his hands. The glow that surrounded Vrangr grew stronger the longer he held it beside Brisingr. The resonance of the blades grew strong enough to the point that he could feel tremors run through the swords and into his hands and arms.

"Your swords are bonded pairs," said Rhunön as she marked the correct glyph on Vrangr. She reached out and held both swords in her hands. He watched as they once more began to resonate. It looked as if the swords refused to stay still in her hands. "When together, the bond between the swords are too strong for a regular person to control. No, only the master can wield both swords at once." She sheathed his blades and handed them to him. "As always, there is a mystery that latches onto you Shadeslayer, these twin swords will be the last that will ever be bestowed upon a rider."

He expressed his gratitude to Rhunön once more this time Saphira joining him. As they left the forge, he left his blade that he'd used before he was given his rider's blades to Rhunön for her to use. It was his promise to her that he would return and bring with him the rider's blades that was stolen for their rightful masters. As they walked he glanced towards Arya. She was tired. He knew from her emotions. Even though she was trying her best to block her feelings from him, he knew better.

From Rhunön's house, Eragon managed to convince Arya and Eridor to fly back to his tree house. To his surprise, it was neat and orderly. It wasn't the mess that he'd left it. Eridor snorted as he curled up in the large basin to rest. _I believe the elves found your mess unbearable and tended to it themselves. _

_Organization was never my forte, _said Eragon as he set his blades down on the table. He reached out for Támerlein from Arya. She was reluctant at first but she removed her blade and handed it to him. He placed the blade on the table beside his own. He glanced at Arya and then at the dragons. Saphira huffed but nudged Eridor. The emerald dragon glanced at Eragon before looking as if he was grinning left through the teardrop behind Saphira no doubt flying to where Arya's tree house was. Eragon made his way over to the teardrop to close it but once more his magic got ahead of him and without uttering a word the hole was covered with a snap of magic. He blinked, he was going to have to see if he could control that thought Eragon as he turned back to Arya. She was standing by his table studying their three swords once more. He made his way over to her and embraced her from behind wrapping his arms about her neck.

"Thank you for forging the blade of Vrangr," whispered Eragon beside her ear. He felt her shiver against him.

"You never were one to fight without two swords," she replied as she reached out to glide her fingers over the scabbard of Vrangr. The glyph responded to her touch, glowing lightly underneath her fingers. "Your soul is bonded to mine, there is no other explanation as to why your swords react to me the way they do."

"You're part of me," said Eragon he held her in his arms. He felt her body shake with exhaustion. She may be an elf but she had her limits and to have worked all night on Vrangr surely took a toll on her body. He guided her to the bed for her to sit and rest. "Wait here for me."

He made his way into the side room where the basin was. Turning a knob he tested the hot water coming out. Adjusting it accordingly, he waited until the basin was filled. Satisfied with its temperature, he exited the room to find Arya sliding her feet out of her boots. Copying her, he unlaced his worn out boots and placed them to the side before taking Arya by the hand and leading her to the side room, steam filled the air. She understood his intentions and undressed gracefully entering the basin and sinking into the hot water. He turned to leave.

"You will not join me?" it was a simple question. Eragon turned to find her washing out her hair, her eyes closed. His determination wavered. He did need to wash himself. Undressed, he slid into the water and found his legs tangling with Arya's. Determined to just wash himself, he felt his resolve slip when Arya reach out to place her hands on his back to help him clean his back. When she was done, he turned to her to do the same. Letting his hands run over her shoulders and back, he rubbed her aching muscles.

"How are you feeling?" asked Eragon focused on easing the tension in her muscles just as she thought him a few weeks earlier.

"Better," said Arya softly she made a soft sound that rose out from her throat and left her lips like a sigh. She was silent before she spoke one more, "Wandering fire…it is very fitting for your swords."

"I thought it described me best," said Eragon he paused, "And you."

"Vrangr…yes, it does fit," agreed Arya with a nod. He knew how she felt. Arya oftentimes said that she felt out of place amongst her own people, the very ones she grew up with. She felt like an outside within the Varden and a stranger with the dwarves. She wandered from place to place due to her duty. Just like how he wandered from place to place because of his.

When he was done, she turned to face him. Drawn in with her bright emerald eyes, he drew closer to her until their foreheads touched. "Arya…" she made a sound showing that she heard him. "I said that I would sacrifice for you…but let me protect you instead with the blade that you crafted for me."

"If you ever find the opportunity to do so," she whispered in reply. He smiled softly leaning forward to meet her lips with his. They shared chaste kisses. Later on, dressed in new clothing Eragon glanced down at himself. He wasn't sure who informed the elves that he was in need of new clothes but he found them waiting from him on top of the latch to his tree house as well as new boots. Arya, too, was given new clothes but they looked exactly as her last. He glanced at her as she rested on his bed. He rather her rest before they left to travel to Farthen Dûr for the coronation of the new king, if one was decided yet.

He made his way over to the tall mirror in the corner of his room. He wasn't as bothered by his appearance anymore as the handsome elf man stared out at him. Whispering the spell, he waited to see if it would come through. Perhaps he had wards about him. To Eragon's good fortune, the spell did work and he was faced with Murtagh staring back out at him. "I see you've made it to Ellesmeŕa brother."

Not one for idle chatter, Eragon got straight to the heart of the matter, "How goes the meetings?"

"Badly," Murtagh replied with narrowed eyes. "The clans are in favor of different candidates to become king. There hasn't been any progress towards the better end of the Varden. I'm afraid that we might be in contention with a candidate that does not support the Varden's war efforts."

"Politics are as similar to snakes plotting in the darkness," said Eragon, he glanced at Murtagh. "You've not had trouble since your arrival at Farthen Dûr I take it?"

His brother shook his head, "Nay, however I doubt that shall last. It seems like one of the clans is not overjoyed at my appearance during their meetings. They consider me an outsider."

"It's only natural. You are not a dwarf and Hrothgar was taking his chances when he adopted you into his clan," said Eragon as he folded his arms across his chest. "Has Nasuada been informed of the ongoing events in Farthen Dûr?" Murtagh nodded. "I can only assume that she isn't too pleased with how the dwarves are conducting themselves."

"No she isn't," said Murtagh confirming what he thought.

"We need the dwarves' assistance in order to march on the empire, without them the Varden will be too few in numbers," said Eragon with a frown. He didn't see himself as a military strategists but anyone could see that the Varden was little in numbers when compared to the vast army underneath Galbatorix. They may have the Urgals as their allies but Nasuada would no doubt keep them away from the battlefield and the cities in an effort to prevent dissent from the citizens of the empire who detested the Urgals. They were a narrow minded people thought Eragon. Creatures and races that they knew nothing of scared them and they discriminated against them. His eyes wandered to Arya as she rested on the bed. She may be unearthly beautiful but being an elf would cause her to be on the receiving end of hate from the citizens. He hated to admit it but humans were narrow minded indeed and because of that they were weak. He shook the thoughts from his mind. "No progress is still good news. We need Orik to be voted as king by the other clans. If there seems to be another who is more favorable than Orik, you need to prevent them from voting until I reach Farthen Dûr. I may not be adopted into the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum however I am Nasuada's vassal. As such that should tip the balance of the meeting."

"Orik considers you family," said Murtagh surprising Eragon. "If not by blood than by law."

He had no response to his words but paved on, "If you are not busy Murtagh, I would like to learn about the other clans in Farthen Dûr and their customs. I would like to arrive at Farthen Dûr with enough knowledge so that I do not delay the meetings."

"The meeting this morning was adjourned due to the arguments between the clans," said Murtagh pulling out a seat to sit facing Eragon. "You should sit Eragon, there's much I've to tell you since I've arrived here."

He pulled out a seat to sit and face Murtagh. The two of them conversed at great length with Eragon committing to memory every little detail that was spoken to him. Murtagh had learned much during his stay thought Eragon as they wrapped up the conversation.

"Have you received the rider's blade that you sought after?" asked Murtagh before they said their farewells.

"I have but you shall see more of it when I arrive in Farthen Dûr," said Eragon. Murtagh nodded. The two of them exchanged last words before Eragon released the spell and the mirror returned to normal. He'd expected as much of the dwarves. They were hot headed and as stubborn as the granite halls that they lived refusing to give way to others. Murtagh was trying his best Eragon could tell to elect a leader that could support the Varden but his power was only so much. It was odd, thought Eragon as he sat down on the bed careful not to disrupt Arya. The distance between him and Murtagh was slowly closing but he still found it hard to fully see him as an older brother. Deciding that it was time to rest, he placed is boots to the side and slid next to Arya. She didn't wake but he knew that she was aware of his presence.

The following morning, they flew to say their farewells to Oromis and Glaedr, both who were waiting for them as they alighted on the open space beside his pinewood hut. They greeted their masters. "I see you've returned successful in your endeavors," said Oromis as he took in the blade looped through Eragon's belt loop around his waist and the second blade resting in a strap that was given to him on his back. "I am surprised to see that you have two swords with you."

"Arya requested to forge a second blade for me," said Eragon as he handed Vrangr to Oromis to study. His eyes found the glyph on the scabbard and a expression passed over his face. Eragon didn't understand what it was that he saw but he thought he could sympathize with the emotions passing through Oromis.

"The wandering flame," said Oromis as he returned the swords to Eragon. He nodded. "A description that is very fitting. For what are we but individuals bound to wander the plains of Alagaësia? You are fortunate to wield such impressive blades Eragon."

"That I am," Eragon agreed.

"You found what you needed beneath the Menoa Tree," said Oromis as Eragon returned Vrangr to the strap tied to his back. He nodded. "The entire forest shuddered when the Menoa Tree woke. At first it was thought that you had attacked her. None had thought that she would awaken on her own when she felt your bond. It is petty to say so but she may have been angered by the pure essence of what she could not have. I am glad that you are uninjured Eragon."

_She did bury him alive though, _added Saphira her sapphire eyes twinkling.

Oromis faintly smiled, "Ah, it is but a mere simulation to mimic the feelings of death. It is not that you should be afraid of the darkness nor the Earth. You need to familiarize yourself with it and detach all importance you had to living. Life does not come without death even for a race such as ours, immortal we may be but death shall one day return our bodies to the ground. When one realizes this, one can fight to their true potential."

_A feeling of rebirth comes from being buried alive and you can forge stronger connections from that, _said Glaedr his strange mind touching Eragon's. He nodded. Arya, who had been silent all this time, spoke.

"What will you do now Master Oromis?" asked Arya. Oromis stared out at the rising sun in the sky silent. Knowing not to push him, they waited until he decided it was time to explain to them. After a few minutes he answered her question.

"Glaedr and I plan to fly to join Islanzadí at the city of Gil'ead," said Oromis surprising them. Eragon and Arya exchanged glances. Oromis wasn't in any condition to leave his hut and fight. He felt chills run down his spine as he thought of his master fighting Galbatorix face to face.

"You will come out of hiding?" asked Arya looking slightly anxious.

Oromis nodded, "Once Murtagh returns and I've spoken to him, the two of us shall take flight and join the elves at Gil'ead for they plan to lay siege to the city. Gil'ead as you know Eragon is a formidable fortress." Eragon nodded and he could feel a slight change in Arya's emotions at the mention of the city that she was imprisoned and tortured in.

"Your condition…" started Eragon.

_Is nothing that you should worry of. We've a century to find ways to circumvent Oromis's disabilities as well as store a tremendous amount of energy into the stone of Naegling. Strength alone does not determine the victor in battle Eragon. You should know for your father has proven on numerous occasions that strength is not the key. Oromis and I are not helpless in battle. Far from it. Also, I do not believe that Galbatorix will ride out into battle to meet us. Not until we are upon the very gates of his black city. _

"I apologize," said Eragon as he bowed his head slightly, "I meant no affront."

Oromis's face was kind as he placed a hand on Eragon's shoulder's, "Your concerns are appreciated Eragon. However having met you, I've thought long about my decision to leave the safety of the forest and join in the battle against Galbatorix. You, who came here with half a soul and heart, were bound for madness having left the safety of Galbatorix's dark magic. You were not whole and yet you've returned intact and better than before. I am the Cripple Who Is Whole that I shall not deny. I am not perfect nor the best warrior on the battlefield. However I still have the strength to slay a hundred regular soldiers—even a thousand."

"Before I leave I would like to say one more thing to the both of you however out of bounds it may sound," said Oromis with wise eyes as he gazed upon Eragon and Arya. "Though you may come from different races and backgrounds, the two of you sought the same thing at one point: revenge. Revenge for the life that was stolen from you, revenge for your father," he glanced from Eragon to Arya. "I'm in no position to say this for I've had a century to let go of my own hatred since the slaughter of my brethren at the hands of Galbatorix. I hope that the two of you have realized that fighting for vengeance is not a path to forging a better world outside of the empire."

"I understand master," said Arya staring at him straight in the eye. Oromis turned his eyes to Eragon. It took his much difficulty but he nodded.

His master nodded, "You shall fly to Farthen Dûr from here on out?"

"Yes master," said Eragon, "The clans are in deliberation for a new king—queen if it comes to it—and Nasuada requested that I be there for the process."

"Yes, with the riders present it would leave enough pressure for them to speed up the process," said Oromis with a nod. He glanced upwards at the sky, "You should depart soon Eragon, Arya to catch the head wind and fly southwards towards the mountains." They said their farewells to Oromis and Glaedr, climbing onto their dragons' back. "Fair winds to you all. When next we meet, let it be before the gates of Urû'baen."

They spared one last look at the two of them as the dragons ascended into the sky, gaining height with every powerful beat of their wings. Eragon made sure to remember how Oromis and Glaedr looked like as they watched them leave. They were at peace, a peace which was soon to be disturbed once they join the rest of the elves at Gil'ead. That was right, they were the very first ones to have accepted Eragon amongst the elves. To accept him and Saphira truly. It would be a sad sight to see them dirtied in the blood and filth of war.

_Are you worried about them? _He heard Arya's voice in his mind, the music of her thoughts flowing through him. He glanced over at Arya and Eridor as they flew beside them. Eridor's thoughts Eragon could tell were tinged with slight sadness at the thought of his masters flying out to battle. But that was the fate of dragon riders. To sacrifice for the greater good. _Do not sound so morbid. Oromis and Glaedr understand the consequences of their actions. I do not agree with them joining the fighting but it is their sacrifice to make. _

_I know, _replied Eragon. _I just don't agree to the idea of sacrifice and victory as two parts of one whole. _

_No one does but it is fate, _said Arya. Eragon nodded. Even then…

**Fitting isn't it? Eragon is the only rider to have been bestowed two swords. I kept the name of the original sword in the book but added a second sword and name which I believe described Eragon's character really well. To me the Eragon that I built is someone that wanders throughout the story and he'll continued wandering until he can find a place called home. A good reflection of his character I believe. Anyways this is it for my A/N. How has everyone been as of late? Enjoying themselves? I saw the recent concert of my favorite group (SNSD). Has anyone been to any concerts as of this summer? It's a fun way to relieve stress. Anyway I hope to see you all very soon! **


	62. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

**Another update!? Hehe, Happy Father's Day everyone! I hope everyone has treated their dad to a special dinner or something. I found some time off and wrote this chapter. I would like to answer some questions in this A/N. First, will I write after the death of Galbatorix? Yes I will but I won't stretch it out. Maybe a few chapters, five at most to wrap up the entire story and an epilogue to follow. Second, can I change the banner (picture of KTY). That's my profile picture so I'll just leave that there. Third, what about Glaedr's Eldunari? You'll find out later. These three questions stood out to me. And I would also like to address this comment about me trying to wrap things up short and quick. I feel like I am but I'm just cutting down excessive details that CP has put in the original. For example, I don't believe in using about seven pages to describe the process of making a sword. Anyways, this is all I wanted to say. R&R! **

Walking through the wide stone hallways with their peaked ceilings, Eragon and Arya walked side by side with the dragons following behind them on foot seeing as they couldn't fly freely throughout the tunnels. It had been a while since he'd been in the stone city of Tronjheim. Entrance to the city wasn't difficult but it was complicated. At the sight of Eridor and Saphira, the dwarves immediately acknowledged their presence. However he was positive that they were wary of Arya for she had shattered their beloved jewel, the star sapphire—the Isidar Mithrim. She didn't seem to mind their glares though. And if they dared to attack her, they would have Islanzadí's wrath come down on them as well as Eridor's and Eragon's combined.

"I'd forgotten how much I disliked being underground," said Eragon as they walked. Arya nodded.

"It is unlike the openness of the forest," said Arya, they continued walked until they reached an open chamber to which they found Murtagh, Thorn, and Orik waiting for them as well as a small unit of guards. They greeted them. "It seems that you were indeed voted as the grimstborith of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum."

"It is good to see that you are well Arya," said Orik greeting them with welcoming arms. He glanced towards Eragon, "I didn't get to see you off Eragon after the Battle of the Burning Plains. I hope you've been doing well since then."

"I have," said Eragon with a nod of his head. He glanced at Murtagh and at the guards that surrounded him, "I take it that it isn't entirely safe here."

Orik nodded stroking his beard, "Aye, the fight for the throne is never taken lightly. And now with the dragon riders walking our halls, it makes matters all the more serious. Never before has someone apart from our race sat in on our meetings. However, Murtagh and now you Shadeslayer shall sit in on our meetings. We are not used to such change in such a short amount of time."

"Have you already met for the day?" asked Eragon. Orik nodded.

"The meeting is adjourned and we are to meet in the morn to continue," Orik glanced to Murtagh, "I've heard that Murtagh has informed you what has been occurring in the halls of Tronjheim. Would you like another report?"

He shook his head, "I was well informed. In any case, we should focus on garnering support for you before the vote takes place. It is important that you Orik become the next king of your people. I understand that Murtagh may have already told you of this but Nasuada pledges her full support to you and as her vassal I shall do the same. I do not understand the politics of your people Orik, but I trust that you can conduct yourself well enough to gain a favorable position amongst the clans."

Orik seemed more than pleased with his words and welcomed the dragons warmly into their halls. Eragon knew that they were taking a risk by backing Orik but with their backing Orik stood as a favorable candidate to the throne. And though he didn't want to involve Arya, his bond with her would put others under the assumption that the elves would back Orik too if needed. For she was his mate and by extension she was related to Orik and his clansmen by law. It was a slippery slope but a thought to contend with no less. As they were shown to their quarters, Murtagh took the time to study both Arya and Eragon. He thought he saw a fleeting look of longing in his eyes but put it aside. He must be imagining things. Murtagh glanced at both of his swords.

"You have two rider's blades," said Murtagh astonished. Eragon nodded. "How did you manage to get those forged?"

"She made me forge one by hand and the other Arya forged for me," said Eragon not referring to Rhunön by name. Murtagh nodded. He saw him glance at his own blade. Eragon knew that he was thinking of how his blade was the blade that was his father's. It was the blade of a traitor. That was a heavy burden for him to carry about. But now, the meaning of the blade had changed after being in Murtagh's hands. He stared ahead as they followed Orik. "Zar'roc is as great of a blade as any. There's no shame in carrying it Murtagh."

_Are you comforting him? _Asked Saphira as she followed behind the guards with Eridor and Thorn. _This is an odd sight indeed. _

Eragon ignored her and glanced back at the guards following them. "These are your guards Murtagh?" asked Eragon. Murtagh nodded. Orik turned back as he heard his question.

"Since he is my foster brother, he faces dangers as he stays in Tronjheim," said Orik darkly, "Mine clan are happy to accept him as a brother however there are others who do not see that a dragon rider is fit to be one of our people. I would also like to extend the protection to you as well Eragon but I believe that you wouldn't want such."

"I would not," said Eragon. He could protect himself well enough. At Orik's words he could feel the slight shame radiating from Murtagh for he was the only one of the three of them that required the protection from Orik's clan. "I take it that the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin is giving you trouble."

"Aye," nodded Orik gravely, "They are most opposed to the presence of riders especially within our customs." He heard that they delayed the meetings for six hours to vote whether or not it was necessary to have Murtagh be a part of the deliberations. They continued through Tronjheim with Orik informing them of the recent activities in the city. However he kept any political news quiet for it was too dangerous to speak of it outright. As they followed Orik, they walked across the center of Tronjheim, meeting plenty of dwarves that filled the city. From what Murtagh told him it appeared that dwarves from all the clans were present. He spotted a line of dwarves dressed entirely in dark garbs. It was the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin. The very same he met a few months ago when they attacked their company as they were leaving Farthen Dûr. They did not make any attempts to show offense for towering behind Eragon's company were the three dragons each looking fearsome in their own right. Thorn's jaws opened and snapped shut, a warning sign to the dwarves as they passed. Murtagh's eyes glanced back at the ruby dragon as if to warn him not to provoke the dwarves.

Eragon watched as they passed, while Orik took a pause in his speech Eragon took this moment to speak to him, "I heard news that you have finally married Orik," at the mention of marriage he felt a slight tinge of discomfort from Arya. At the mention of his wife, Orik immediately changed track speaking of her in adoring tones. For once Eragon could relate to the feelings of ardor. He glanced at Arya catching her dark emerald eyes. She offered him a slight smile.

"I hear that you and Arya are now a bonded pair," said Orik glancing from between them. Eragon nodded. "During such grave times like these unions such as yours is a light in the dark."

Arya inclined her head at his words as they followed Orik passing the wide opening in which they caught sight of numerous dwarves working on gathering the pieces of the Isidar Mithrim for Saphira to fulfill her promise to them. They came to a spacious hall where Murtagh was apparently staying. Thorn rested in a separate area since the quarters were not large enough to accompany his mass. The dragon hold above the Isidar Mithrim was off limits for the jewel was not in its former glory. Orik paused at a room he glanced between them in what appeared to be hesitation.

"The two of us will stay here," said Arya relieving Orik of whatever was bothering him. He nodded.

"Can you show Saphira and Eridor where to rest Thorn?" Eragon asked of the red dragon. Thorn turned to him and blinked to show that he will. They said their farewell to Orik and the others and entered the room. It was spacious enough for the two of them. He had yet to stay in a room as an honored guest in Tronjheim; the last he was here he had just joined the Varden and fought to keep the city from falling to the Urgals. He stared at the room for a moment. Stretching his neck, he set his swords down on the table. Sitting in one of the seats at the table, his eyes darted to Arya as she started to unpack a portion of her items. She pulled out a scroll to work on. He had no doubts that it was a report that she was compiling to later speak about with her mother. At the thought of her mother his mind wandered over to Gil'ead.

Oromis and Glaedr were soon to join her. For some reason, he felt anxious about them being so close to Urû'baen. If Galbatorix found out about them he would no doubt try to take them for his own or if they were uncooperative: kill them. The thought of them dying sent chills down his spine. Soon Nasuada was going to lay siege on Feinster and as her vassal he needed to fly out to support her. However…

"Is something bothering you?" Eragon turned to face Arya as she made her way over to where he sat taking the seat opposite him. She laid her scroll on the table as well as a quill and inkwell. He could tell that his emotions bothered her for she was unable to start working. Eragon thought for a moment trying to gather what was going on in his mind. He wanted to give it voice. It was something that he always found slightly difficult. After a few moments he spoke.

"I'm worried about the siege on Gil'ead," said Eragon after a moment. He crossed his legs and rested his chin on the palm of his hand, his elbow resting against the arm of the chair. "Galbatorix may not fly out directly to battle but he will make it difficult for the elves to take the city. Perhaps he'll send Jeremiah to guard the city and maybe a few Eldunarí to boost his strength."

"My people shall be with them to assist in their battles," said Arya despite her words, he could hear a trace of uncertainty within her voice. She too was feeling the same as he was. He glanced at her knowing that his train of thoughts were troubling her. He decided to change tracks.

"What is it that you are writing?" asked Eragon glancing at the scroll that she'd yet to unravel, "A report?"

Arya nodded and to show him, she unraveled the scroll which was had neat characters of the ancient language inscribed into it. He stared at the many glyphs but made no effort to read it. "My mother," she paused her eyes looking pained for a moment. After a few seconds, she regained herself, "Queen Islanzadí needs to be informed of movements outside of her realm of jurisdiction so that she may act accordingly."

So it seems that the two of them were still at an impasse thought Eragon as he watched Arya begin compiling the report. She did not pause in her writing which showed that she was not hesitant. He remained silent and merely sat there watching her his thoughts drifting from one topic to the next. The one that his mind kept wandering back to was what Elva had told him before he'd departed for Du Weldenvarden. She'd hinted at the possibility of Alagaësia having a true name. He'd used some spare time to research the topic back at Ellesmeŕa but could not find scrolls or texts that spoke about the land before the elves' arrival. Nothing seemed to predate the elves' arrival about Alagaësia. Was the information merely lost to history or was there something else greater than that?

He shifted in his sheet, folding his arms across his chest. He may have been born a human originally but he thought he acted more like an elf. He could sit for hours lost in thought. His eyes drifted to his twin blades, then Arya, and then to her report that was growing longer with each passing minute. Many would say that her diligence and work ethic stemmed from her being an elf but it wasn't. No, she was merely hardworking to begin with, which was the exact opposite from him. He didn't tend to do things unless it was absolutely necessary of him. In a way, Arya was indeed very kind.

"Arya," she paused lifting her quill from the parchment to avoid blotching the report with ink. He knew that they had somewhat spoke of this before but he wanted to see if anything had changed, "What will you do after this war is done with?"

His question seemed to have taken her by surprise. She thought for a moment, "If we manage to defeat Galbatorix, there is much left to do. For one, diplomacy will be on the forefront for the races can no longer remain isolated. They may live in different corners of Alagaësia but in order to prevent another tragedy that has befallen the order of the riders, it is essential that cooperation is given. I cannot return to my post as an ambassador for my people anymore and I doubt that they will merely stow away in the lush forest of Du Weldenvarden as they've done in the past. There is also the question of how we as riders remain independent of the politics in Alagaësia. For the last century it has been apparent that merely creating the order isn't enough to maintain peace. For what is to say that the order isn't flawed? In any event I would like to be part of the process that will help rebuild Alagaësia." Eragon nodded, he thought as much. Arya was willing to sacrifice her time once more for the greater good. Her eyes sought his, "What will you do?"

Him? He never really thought of it. He'd always thought he'd die before realizing the possibility of living outside of Galbatorix's empire. "I've said it before that I would like to live somewhere with just Saphira and myself," answered Eragon honestly, "I admit I believe that I won't be of much help in rebuilding Alagaësia."

"Why do you think that?" asked Arya. "You are the leader of the riders Eragon. As such you are needed after this war is done."

"I am not a peacemaker Arya," said Eragon seriously. He thought once more. She waited for his answer not bothered nor impatient. After a few moments he spoke, "When the time comes—if it ever does—I can only pray that I have the strength to go on."

Arya dipped her quill into the inkwell, tapping it to the side of the well to remove any excess ink. With her quill in hand, she continued to compile the report, "You will go on. You have us," she said simply. He stared at him as she compiled her report and smiled. Leave it to her to say such simple things. They remained like that in comfortable silence. Rather than relaxing, he knew that Arya would become agitated if she didn't finish the work that was left for her. While she worked, Eragon sat still and continued to ponder deeply in thought.

Early the next morning, Eragon found himself sitting beside Murtagh with his back against the curved wall of the round room set deep below the center of Tronjheim. The room was filled with dwarves ranging from servants, warriors, advisers, to the members of the clan chiefs who were privileged enough to attend the meet. The thirteen chiefs themselves were seated around a circular table in the center of the round room, their heavy carved chairs spaced evenly. To be honest, he was bored and he could tell that Murtagh was as well. At least they were agreed in this aspect. Not only did he have to hear the chiefs argue, he also had to hear it translated back to him. They all had different opinions and they all wanted the throne for different reasons whether it be power or for the good of their clan. The longer he sat in the meeting, he felt like he was going to rot away into stone. When he first entered the room for the meeting, there was a mixed reaction to his appearance. Some of them welcomed Eragon and others looked down on his appearance, well attempted to look down on him but seeing as he was much taller than them they could only glare. He could careless for what they did for they were well aware that he was not someone to take lightly. His demeanor was much colder than Murtagh's and hopefully that would help give them the upper hand as long as Murtagh didn't think of any plans to try and influence the meet.

Dwarves did not take lightly to the opinions of others.

When the meeting broke for their midday meal, Eragon was about to join Orik for lunch until the dwarf asked him to keep Murtagh company. In a low whisper, Orik spoke to him, "Murtagh had insisted that he explore the tunnels. I've gave him a company of guards but it is best Eragon if you can go and see to it that the shadows that follow him remain shadows."

"As you say."

Following Murtagh's presence, he only wished that the dragons could accompany them but their presence would give away the location of the meet. Arya had agreed to stay behind with the dragons for she said that she had no place in the deliberations of the new successor to the throne left behind by Hrothgar. He wasn't sure where it was the Murtagh planned on exploring but the more he followed him the deeper they went into the tunnels where enemies could lurk around every corner. He blinked thinking he saw someone move in the shadows cast by the amber lanterns. Ahead of him he saw Murtagh and his four guards. However, there was a slight disturbance in the air. Not liking this feeling he perceived from his surroundings, he slid into the shadows to watch from the darkness. Light on his feet he followed Murtagh stopping when he saw something move forward towards the rear of Murtagh's company. Seven dwarves dressed entirely in black garbs rushed towards him, their feet muffled with cloth to keep them silent as possible. Hmph, an assassination attempt.

Jumping from the darkness, Eragon ran forward and with his mind threw a yell to Murtagh's. _Behind you! _

Hearing his message, Murtagh turned catching sight of the seven attackers. He opened his mouth to warn his four guards simultaneously reaching for Zar'roc. Watching the first of the seven dwarves close in on Murtagh's company, Eragon reached up behind him and gripped the pommel of Vrangr. He hated to waste the blade that Arya forged for him on such lowlifes. Drawing Vrangr easily from its scabbard, he threw it towards the first dwarf. The sapphire blade cut through the air with tremendous speed all the while remaining silent. True to its mark, Vrangr easily sliced through the first attacker. The first dwarf fell Vrangr protruding from the dwarf's chest. The rear attack took the other six by surprise. If Murtagh understood Eragon's intent then he'll make things much easier. Not resting, Eragon drew Brisingr from its sheath. Three of the remaining six broke ranks and turned their attention to Eragon but it was too late for Eragon and Murtagh's company managed to form a pincher assault on the attackers.

_Eragon! _He glanced up as Murtagh threw Vrangr back towards him, the blue blade coated in red blood. Shifting to the side, he waited for the blade to pass by his body entirely before reaching out with his left hand to grab the hilt. Vrangr was a rider's blade and as such could cut through any type of ward with ease. Twirling the sword into the right position in his left hand, he paused as he saw the violet glow that ran the length of the blade pulse brighter. Then as if it was alive, the red blood that coated Vrangr was absorbed into the blade causing it to grow stronger. He shook his head, there was no time to try and explain the behavior of his sword.

He lunged forward faster than his attackers could ever achieve. The reason being was because he was changed continuously. He went from a human to a dragon rider and with Saphira's help, he gained several key characteristics bestowed upon elves. Then in Ellesmeŕa, he was changed again and his skills were once more drastically enhanced. And for the third time, he absorbed Asura's soul which would put his skills above all else except for Galbatorix.

Shuffling his feet to the side, Eragon easily deflected a blow with Vrangr and using the opening he created slashed down on one of the attackers with Brisingr loping off the dwarf's head with ease. The moment blood came into contact with Vrangr, the blade pulsed absorbing it once more. He could feel the energy flowing through his body as the purple glow grew. Crossing his blades, he parried a blow from the other attacker watching as the pale bladed dagger give way to dust as it made contact with the violet edge of Vrangr. Bringing up his right leg, Eragon easily kicked the now unarmed dwarf into the side wall with enough force to cause cracks to split the wall and travel to the floor. The body slid to the ground lifeless and with as much structure as flowing water. The last of his attackers glanced from Eragon to his dead companions. He wasn't planning on killing this one. No, he needed at least one of the seven alive to try and extract information from the dwarf or to use him as evidence. Not giving the dwarf before him time to contemplate his next actions, Eragon smashed to pieces the buckler in his left hand with the pommel of Brisingr and with Vrangr reduced his blade to nothingness.

Sheathing Vrangr in one fluid instance, Eragon kicked the feet out from under his opponent and to prevent the dwarf from moving he kept one foot on the chest of the attacker pressing down with enough force to keep him in one place. Knowing that the dwarf was indeed going to try and commit suicide, Eragon plunged Brisingr into the dwarf's left hand. A howl of pain met his ears. Then with his other foot, he kept it on the dwarf's right hand pinning him down. Bending down, Eragon removed the mask covering the dwarf's face to reveal a male dwarf gazing upon him with great hatred. He ignored the ongoing battle between Murtagh and the last of his two attackers. He and his guards should be able to dispatch of the rest and focused on the dwarf beneath him.

He tried to prod at the dwarf's mind to find that it was protected. So there was someone who was backing them in their attack and a skilled magician at that. He knew that their weapons were reinforce with wards but they were useless against his blades. "Will you speak?" asked Eragon glaring down at the dwarf with narrowed eyes as Murtagh with a loud bellow sliced one of his attacks into two halves. The dwarf beneath him shouted something before spitting on the boots that were given to Eragon from Ellesmeŕa. He felt his anger peaked. His right hand still gripping Brisingr, he moved it from side to side eliciting another howl from the dwarf. He didn't agree to torture for it reminded him of his own imprisonment and Arya's but he was willing to use it for he knew Murtagh would not have the courage to do so.

"Are you part of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin?" at the mention of the name of the dwarf clan, the dwarf beneath him began to squirm. So they were working for them. Before Eragon could attempt to get anymore information from him, the remaining attacker that Murtagh was fighting suddenly broke away from the fight and started running for the wall. Watching him, Eragon pulled Brisingr from the hand of the dwarf beneath him ready to throw it but he was too late. The last of the attackers ran straight for one of the amber lanterns. Dagger raised in the air, the weapon pierced the lantern.

An explosion erupted in the hall. Unable to keep his balance, Eragon was swept off of his feet and he flew backwards before landing on the cold ground skidding and sliding to a stop, Brisingr falling not far from him. A booming echo followed the explosion of flames nearly deafening him due to his sensitive hearing. Beside him Murtagh let out a howl of pain as he was caught in the archway of an opening. When the aftermath of the blast subsided, Eragon stood moving to pick up Brisingr. He was about to heal his ears and minor scrapes and bruises but Vrangr reacted against him as well as Arya's green magic. Within seconds he was healed and the energy that was accumulated in the blade of Vrangr from the blood it absorbed was gone. He was going to have to speak to Arya about his sword later on.

He sheathed Brisingr and made his way over to the dwarf he was just interrogating. The dwarf was burned to death, the heat melting the skin and an inch deep off of his face, which was unprotected in the blast. The dwarf that had purposely stabbed the lantern was reduced to ashes. Silencing his companion was his objective no doubt.

He studied the result of the blast. The hallway look unstable with great cracks in the ceiling, walls, and floor. He'd forgotten how dangerous the amber lanterns were. Luckily Murtagh's company was whole despite some injuries. He turned to his brother who was struggling to get to his feet due to his injuries. Eragon held out his right hand and with his magic healed Murtagh back to his original condition. "You should learn better than to walk about in such abandoned tunnels Murtagh," said Eragon as he walked about studying the fallen seven bodies.

"What were you going down here?" asked Murtagh as he went to attend to his injured guards.

"I was asked to follow you," said Eragon with a slight shrug. "A good thing at that. If not, these seven assassins would've no doubt gotten the better of you and your guards." Murtagh grunted but thanked him nonetheless. As he was assessing the situation, he heard light footsteps bound their way and turned to find Arya running towards them, her dark hair billowing behind her.

"I felt your emotions," said Arya as she came to a stop before him, "And Saphira and Thorn saw what was happening through your minds. What happened?" Her eyes found the scorched wall where the amber lantern resided before it exploded. She understood instantly then what it was that had transpired. "The aftermath could be heard throughout all of Tronjheim."

"That would mean that the other clans have no doubt been alerted of what has transpired," said Eragon. He glanced at the seven bodies and then at Murtagh and his guards. "Murtagh, get whatever it is that we can for evidence. We need to leave and return to Orik before they find us here."

He watched as Murtagh ripped something from the lifeless and burnt body of one of the seven dwarves. They departed immediately from the tunnel with Murtagh's guards showing them through different and less traveled pathways back to Orik's quarters. "Where are the dragons?" asked Eragon as they followed behind bringing up the rear in case of any other attack.

"I've sent them in the opposite direction," answered Arya in a low whisper. "I had thought that whatever that had occurred was related to either you or Murtagh. Saphira and Thorn weren't happy but we cannot have them bringing their wrath down on the clans without sufficient cause to do so."

He could always count on Arya to prevent situations from spiraling out of control. After having arrived at Orik's chambers, they waited for Orik to adjourn the meeting and gather the evidence he required from the site of conflict. While they were waiting, Eragon turned to Arya and handed her Vrangr explaining to her what had happened during the fight. Her brows furrowed the longer he spoke. When he was done, Arya studied Vrangr.

"I've only heard of such blades in myths and legends," said Arya as she slid Vrangr from its sheath. Like it did before, the blade pulsed in her hand. "And such swords were said to have demonic blades. I've yet to hear a sword of a rider possessing such unnatural power. It healed you, Eragon?" He nodded then to his surprise, she cut herself thinly on the hand. Like how it did with the blood of the assassin dwarves, it absorbed her blood, the sword pulsing to life. After a few seconds, the magic in Vrangr healed her.

"You've never heard of such things?" asked Eragon as he returned Vrangr to his back. She shook her head.

"I can only think of one thing that could cause Vrangr to act like that," said Arya as she turned to face him, "Asura's soul was absorbed by yours Eragon. As such you've consumed a part of him into yourself as well as some of his characteristics. He had a desire to devour your soul and take it into his own. Therefore, that desire must have become reflected on Vrangr. When it comes into contact with blood it absorbs the blood and turns it into energy in order to protect you. It's not a perfect theory but one that I believe matches well."

"I see," nodded Eragon as Murtagh glanced at them.

"Shouldn't we help Orik? Why are we just standing here?" asked Murtagh looking agitated. Arya answered him.

"It's best we do not interfere with the clans," said Arya seriously, "If one of them has indeed sent assassins after you than it'll make matters all the worse. A clan war could start and that can severely delay the process of voting a new ruler. In any case, Orik knows how to best handle these matters. We must trust in him. As we stand we can do nothing to influence such matters."

Murtagh scowled after a moment he glanced up at them in worry, "Are the dragons safe?"

"I've asked them to go hunting," said Arya with slanted brows. Eragon too was worried for Saphira's safety. "If the leader of these assassins can attack you without discrimination than they can easily attack the dragons."

"I don't understand, why me though?" asked Murtagh.

"Because you were the one adopted by Hrothgar," said Eragon. "If they killed you off, they'll eliminate my ties to the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum. Therefore that would put Orik in poor favor when they continue the voting process. I may say that I support Orik as a dragon rider and a vassal of Nasuada but it's a different thing entirely to have a dragon rider as part of a clan and in extension another."

"Yes," agreed Arya, "And there's also the fact that the elves support the dragon riders whoever it may be. Having you and in extension Eragon support Orik would show that we in turn support him as well as a favorable candidate to the throne."

They continued speaking until all questions of the assassination was extinguished. After that, the three of them waited oftentimes speaking to each other or merely letting the silence transverse the chambers. He hated waiting but that was all they could do now.

**How did you all like this chapter? I know that some of you have expressed that you find typos/mistakes in my writing as distracting but without a beta I can't catch all of the mistakes. When I finish this story, I'll go back and revise and edit it to make it free of typos. And maybe I'll buy myself something nice to celebrate its completion...If I ever get there. Anyways, see you soon keep reading and reviewing everyone! **


	63. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

**Hello everyone! I've just finished this chapter! To address your concerns, I know the chapters seemed like they are trying to take a lot and cram it into a little but like I've said before there are just too many unnecessary details going on in the original. Anyways, once the whole dwarf business is over I shall write this story at a better pace. Now people believe that ExA are growing distant? Well, that shall all be explained in this chapter...And there's a lemon people that's why this chapter is so lengthy. I shall put a warning before it if you prefer not to read it. As for Eragon's older personalities, I've always like the cold Eragon in battle and shall keep him that way. He's only soft on Saphira, Arya, and his mother. And for other's who've expressed their growing concerns with Oromis, no I shall not kill him off so early. That is just a waste of a good fighter. I would also like to say that I had to use some of CP's work. I don't own anything of his! Anyways everyone enjoy this chapter! R&R! **

It was tense as they stood in Orik's chambers waiting for an explanation from him. Having dismissed their translator as well as Murtagh's guards, Eragon was left with Orik and the others in the safety of his chambers to discuss the matters of the assassination attempts. Currently they were staring at three bound dwarves stacked atop each other bloodied and beaten. He had to admit that it was a form of interrogation that he could agree with if the other party was unwilling.

"And so these three were the ones who ordered the attack on me?" asked Murtagh as they stared at the three of the bound dwarves with varying degrees of emotion. However, there was a common underlying of distaste for the three. Orik nodded. Eragon stared at the three dwarves and unable to help himself, he prodded the one on the bottom with his foot. In response the dwarf meekly kicked his feet.

"How will you deal with Az Sweldn rak Anhûin?" asked Arya as she mentioned the clan that was behind such an attack on Murtagh. At her question, Orik stroked his beard and Eragon could see a slight twinkle in his eyes. Whatever it was that Orik was thinking, Eragon knew that he could manage seeing as Orik was not troubled in the least about dealing with the clan. Having been reassured that Orik could indeed handle the clan as well as its aggressive leader, Vermûnd Eragon was about to return to their quarters but Orik had other ideas. Instead, he asked that the three of them remain within his chambers for the night for it was dangerous for them to wander about especially with what had occurred to Murtagh. Eragon was reluctant at first but seeing as Arya and Murtagh were forced to as well he complied.

Later that night as they were trying to rest Eragon blinked when he felt Arya's mind touch his. Without hesitation, he let her into his mind used to the essence that made her. _Is something amiss? _He'd thought she was resting or attempting to rest as she laid on one of the dwarf couches in Orik's chamber with Murtagh sleeping on the other one on the opposite wall from them. Eragon had merely resigned to sitting on the ground with his back against the couch Arya rested on as if to guard her in her sleep.

_I haven't had the chance to speak to you in private since the attack, _she said as an answer to his question. _Are you comfortable in that position? _

_As comfortable as I'll ever be here. I do not particularly enjoy the fact that I have to rest here due to an assassination attempt on Murtagh's life. I can guard myself in my own quarters whether I'm asleep or not._

_Maybe but one can never take chances. The Az Sweldn rak Anhûin are a force to contend with. Their rage at the riders are still fresh even if it's been a century and more since the last of the Forsworn had burned down their villages, _she replied. Eragon subconsciously nodded. The next words she spoke took him by surprise. _After Orik deals with the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, Eridor and I shall take flight and travel back to the Varden. We've tarried for too long. We've no place here in the deliberations of the dwarves for a new successor. There are pressing matters that we can assist with back at the Varden. Nasuada will soon reach Feinster and our help is needed. _He remained silent. It seemed like Arya had given this much thought. While he could not say anything about her departure for it was her own decision, he was worried as to what would happen if they put such a great amount of distance between them. Would he feel as lonely as when he's not with Saphira? Maybe even more? _Are you troubled by my decision? _

_No, _replied Eragon. He closed his eyes and opened it once more to stare off into the darkness. He saw Murtagh shift in his sleep. It appeared that he was having troubles sleeping. After a moment, he averted his eyes. _With your return to the Varden it will put Nasuada and the others at rest. I am not sure when the deliberations will end nor when the coronation will occur but I have faith in Orik. With what has happened, he will use this momentum to put himself at the forefront of the other clan chiefs. _At his words, his mind flashed to the different chiefs that Eragon had met in the meeting. For a second an image of Íorûnn and how she graciously greeted him flashed in his mind. He felt Arya's thoughts shifted as the images faded.

_In any case we will depart as soon as Orik calms the situation here. It will be dangerous if this incident grows into a clan war. If the factions are split and start to attack each other, it will only ensure the destruction of the dwarves as well as the Varden's for without their help our numbers will be too few, _Eragon nodded noticing the slight change in her tone. He unfolded his arms and turned to her seeing an outline of her face as she laid on the couch turned on her side facing him. He could barely make out her eyes in the dark.

_Will you spend some time with me before you leave? It may be a while before we are reunited, _asked Eragon. Unlike the beginnings of their bond, he was not embarrassed to ask such of her. After the events they've been through there was no need to be embarrassed. He watched as she reached out with her hand towards him placing it on the back of his neck. Arya shifted on the couch slightly, leaning forward to him. In the darkness of Orik's chambers they were safely cloaked.

_Of course_, she said as their lips met. He wasn't sure if it was due to what had transpired earlier or because of the news that she was soon leaving but he found himself desiring her greatly. Careful not to make a sound, Eragon parted his lips over hers. Feeling her breath against his face, he leaned forward until she was pressed against the couch with half of his body leaning over hers. Their tongues sliding against each other. They stayed like that for a while exchanging heated kisses and parting for air until a loud gasp from Murtagh startled them apart. Pulling away, Eragon turned to him as Arya sat up. He heard her whisper a spell in the ancient language and a werelight appeared in the center of the room.

Murtagh was wide awake. He was standing staring at the floor, his fists clenched, his chest heaving. Orik's guards from the adjacent hallway to where they were resting glanced in on them with inquisitive glances. Eragon waved them away as he watched as Murtagh settled back onto his couch. However he made no move to continue sleeping. _It must have been a nightmare. _

He exchanged a glance with Arya. If Murtagh doesn't feel like resting, it didn't mean she didn't have to. Extinguishing her werelight, she resumed lying on the couch to rest. Within a few moments, she was drifting off in her half-awake slumber. Not tired, Eragon just sat there deep in thought. After a moment, he blinked when Murtagh summoned a werelight of his own to once more illuminate the room. Eragon glanced back at Arya, she was unaffected by the glow of Murtagh's werelight and continued her rest.

"Is there something that's bothering you?" asked Eragon glancing at Murtagh. It was the dead of night and knowing what might happen tomorrow, Murtagh should indeed be resting. "If not, you should put out your werelight and rest. There's no need to bother others with your agitation."

"It's not that," said Murtagh speaking in the ancient language surprising Eragon. Usually Eragon only spoke in the ancient language to Arya for he felt most comfortable speaking in that tongue with her. He'd rarely spoke to Murtagh in the ancient language except for the few times he had to during their training in Ellesmeŕa. "I was just—"

"Was it a nightmare?" asked Eragon as he stared at Murtagh from where he sat. His half brother nodded glancing down at his hands unsure of what to do. Feeling rather awkward, Eragon inwardly sighed. If only the dragons were here, it would ease the tension. Thorn could be comforting Murtagh rather than Eragon. But the dragons were instructed to hunt until sundown the next day in order to avoid any unnecessary threats. He knew they were bothered for they were the strongest predators of the sky and could defend themselves but their pride was not worth their life. They were quiet for a moment. "What was it about?"

Murtagh seemed to struggle greatly before he answered Eragon's question. "I saw my father…Or what I thought was my father."

"Morzan?" asked Eragon. Murtagh nodded. Unsure of what to say, Eragon sought words. He could not relate to Murtagh. His father was Brom. Though he despised his father for a greater part of his life, he was never ashamed of him. No, he was always ashamed of himself because he always believed that he was not great enough.

"It's laughable isn't it? He's dead and yet his name still haunts me," said Murtagh looking defeated. Eragon frowned. It was laughable but he wasn't going to say it out loud. Instead he merely glanced away as Murtagh continued to speak, "Mother has never spoke of him has she?"

At the mention of their mother, Eragon frowned slightly. No, their mother never spoke of Morzan. To her, he was dead and will forever remain such. Whatever love she felt for him was gone with his cruel treatment of Murtagh. He shook his head. "No, she never said," said Eragon. He paused, "Do you remember anything about him?"

Murtagh shook his head, "I don't remember anything about him," he sighed, "To think that I would love Brom, the man who murdered my father, and hate Morzan, the man who was my father. Fate works in strange ways."

"A son cannot choose his father," said Eragon quietly. He understood that more than anything. They fell into silence once more. He thought that his statement would be the end of their conversation but Murtagh didn't extinguish his werelight meaning that he had more to say.

"Eragon," he glanced up at Murtagh waiting for him to speak. "Do you think you can tell me about mother's story? From the beginning? Not many people know her as well as you do. And I would like to get to know her history more."

If it would calm his nerves Eragon thought. On the outside Eragon scoffed not wanting to look soft but spoke, "It's only natural that a son should know the history behind his parents. In return…" he hesitated not sure if he wanted to form this question but after a few moments, he continued, "I would like to hear about Brom as he'd lived with you."

"That's a fair deal," agreed Murtagh. The two of them stayed awake recalling events and stories about their parents. Eragon spent the first part explaining to Murtagh the history behind their mother. He was surprised to find that at first she was a cruel servant of the Black Hand, a group that Galbatorix controlled in his city. He then went on to telling him how she met Morzan and in turn fell in love with his appearance. There was something in his cruelness that drew her to the forsworn. His story continued with him telling Murtagh about the change in their mother and how she came across Brom, who was a spy in Morzan's estate. Brom went from wanting to assassinate their mother in order to deal a crippling blow to Morzan to loving her. The reason he knew all of this was because their mother spoke to him about Brom when he was younger, when he demanded to know more about Brom, who he was and where he came from. When he was done with his stories, Murtagh kept up his end of the bargain and told him how he grew up in the farming village of Carvahall with Roran and his family. Compared to Eragon's dry tales, Murtagh's stories were filled with life experiences and despite the foolishness of some, he could tell from his tone that Murtagh regretted little growing up in Carvahall. He'd met Brom and thought of him as a storyteller that wandered Alagaësia saying crazy stories about dragons and such. Through their stories Eragon saw the great contrast in their lives. Murtagh may be poor scraping dinner by hunting in the Spine and bartering with others in his village but he was happy. Eragon grew up wealthy and with his mother by his side and yet he knew that his childhood was much emptier than Murtagh's. He never wanted to admit it thought Eragon as he listened to Murtagh describing how he was dragged through the mud because of the stubborn mule that they raise in order to help plow the crops, but he envied Murtagh.

That was the difference between them while Eragon envied him, Murtagh was satisfied with his life.

The next morning Eragon stood with his back to the wall, between Murtagh and Arya. After much deliberation it was decided that they would use his union with Arya as an advantage in the meeting. If anyone dared to act out of order, they would be hesitant to do so seeing as Arya was present. It was well known in Tronjheim how Islanzadí treated the Varden after hearing word that Arya was killed as she was carrying Thorn's egg. If she were to be killed in a spat between the dwarves over the throne, Islanzadí would no doubt show them the folly of their ways. He watched as the various clan chiefs filed into the round conference room. His eyes glanced of Vermûnd taking in the calm appearance that the dwarf chief bore. He'd expected as much.

When they caught sight of the extra addition to the meeting, a rise of protest rose from several of the dwarves particularly Gannel, whom Arya has had the pleasure of arguing with on various occasions. "What is the meaning of this Orik!" demanded Gannel. Their translator immediately translated for them but without the fierce opposition that Gannel used in his voice. "You dare to bring an outside into our most sacred of meetings? Eragon and Murtagh we've agreed to, but not her!" Arya did not bat an eye when Gannel shook his finger at her. Eragon inwardly chuckled as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

_He must still be sore about the last argument you've had, _said Eragon.

Though she was not showing it, he could feel her amusement in her mind and through their bond. _Gannel was never graceful in the matters of concession. If all is not what he believes it, he will make sure he can make it so. _

Not one person was seated as they waited for Orik's reply. He merely held up his hand, "Peace Gannel, I do not mean to make any offense. However by our laws, if one is deemed important enough, they have a place within our meetings. Arya is Eragon's mate, in our terms she is equivalent to a wife," at the mention of wife, Eragon glanced away. They weren't fully mates yet for they'd yet to consummate their affection. "I've decided to ask that she sit in on one of our meetings to fully understand the process of selecting a new successor to the throne. We cannot deny that as separate races we know little of each other and this is an opportunity for us to remedy that. As an honored guest of mine clan as well as Eragon's mate, my brother for he is related to Murtagh whom is my foster brother, I hope that you have no qualms about her presence here."

There was a great amount of tension about the room as everyone stared at Arya, Eragon, Gannel, and Orik. Looking like he was overinflated due to the redness in his face, Gannel nodded. The matter settled the chiefs seated themselves about the circular table in the center of the conference room. Those watching from the perimeter also took their seats along the chairs lined against the wall of the circular room. While Eragon relaxed against his seat, Murtagh sat on edge as if a great battle was to break out. Beside him, Arya was watching with interest the events going on before them. Due to his oath to Orik and the clans, he was unable to reveal any information about the deliberations to those that weren't present. She was no doubt the first elf to be able to witness such deliberations. Though she was interested he wasn't in the least. He glanced at Murtagh, who was trying his best to remain impassive. Though he understood why Murtagh felt agitated, there was no need for they were prepared for the worst. Not only were the three of them present but Orik had stationed a hundred of his warriors close by without the knowledge of other the chiefs knowing.

Having regained his earlier composure, Gannel rose from the table and began to speak. Half listening to the introduction of his speech, Eragon waited for him to hit the heart of the matter. After receiving permission to speak, Gannel continued his long winded report. "Yesterday, while we were lunching in our chosen places of repast, knurlan throughout the tunnels underneath the southern quadrant of Tronjheim heard a noise," that was no doubt the explosion caused from the amber lantern. He proceeded to explain what some of the dwarves found in the tunnel that they fought in. Murtagh became even more tensed and he saw his dominant hand twitch. His eyes caught Arya's as Gannel finished his report. "So my first question for the meet is this: do any of you possess further knowledge of this mysterious action?"

Orik cleared his throat and said, "I believe I can satisfy some of your curiosity upon that point, Gannel. However, since my answer must of necessity be a lengthy one, I suggest you ask your questions before I begin."

A frown darkened Gannel's brows. Rapping his knuckles against the table, he said, "Very well…" he continued on speaking about the movement of armed forces about the underground city. He even went as far as to say that they expel the warriors that were gathering and that a reader-of-law should be appointed to investigate such doings. Eragon watched as a flurry of heated conversation amongst the clan chiefs erupted in the circular room. The dwarves hurled accusations, denials, and counteraccusations at each other to the point that two of the grimstborith were yelling at each other. It was poor form thought Eragon as he observed the meeting. Beside him Arya shifted in her seat. This was no doubt a great difference as to how her people chose rulers. Eventually seeing as the meeting was getting out of hand, Orik cleared his throat again causing everyone to stop and stare at him.

In a mild tone, Orik said, "This too I believe I can explain to you, Gannel, at least in part. I cannot speak to the activities of the other clans, but several hundred of the warriors who have been hurrying through the servants' halls in Tronjheim have been of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum. This I freely admit."

All was silent until Íorûnn said, "And what explanation have you for this belligerent behavior Orik, Thrik's son?"

And so began the long answer that Orik had been saving up. Though he did not start it as Eragon thought he would. Instead he began to speak about the beginnings of history and how the race of dwarves had migrated from the desert to the mountains. From the wars between the clans to the creation of h magnificent cities in Farthen Dûr, Orik spoke of it all. Then he moved on to speak about the elves' arrival in Alagaësia. He spoke of how they fought with the dragons and nearly destroyed each other and how in order to maintain survival they forged the Dragon Riders. He was sure there were a few minor mistakes in the retelling of the history of elves for he felt Arya's irritation peak every once and a while but she remained silent knowing that to interrupt Orik would make him look foolish. He continued speaking about how selfish the dwarves were in their attempt to live isolated from the world and in prosperity. He was angered how none sought to share in the pact of the dragons and how as time passed the pact was remade to include humans and still the dwarves sought no involvement. It was a curious thing thought Eragon as he thought of it. Though most elves belittled humans, he wondered how they felt to share their most precious bonds with the dragons with humans. He even went as far as to praise Murtagh causing him to flush. After a very long speech, Orik finally got to the heart of the matter.

"Otherwise, why would they try to kill Murtagh?" Orik finished his speech with a heavy loaded question that demanded silence in the room. No one dared move for the slightest movement could lead to dangerous assumptions. As the clan chiefs gazed at Orik with unblinking eyes, he related to the meet how the seven black-clad dwarves had attacked Murtagh and his guards while they were exploring the halls of Tronjheim. He explained that they were lucky to escape death for Eragon had followed them to ensure their safety and managed to confuse the assassins and gain the upper hand in battle.

"Last night, my spellcasters and I retraced the assassin's path back to their place of origin, and on the twelfth level of Tronjheim, we captured three knurlan who were hiding in a dusty storeroom. We broke the minds of two of them, and from them, we learned they provisioned the assassins for their attack. And," said Orik his voice growing harsh and terrible, "from them we learned the identity of their master. I name you, Grimstborith Vermûnd! I name you Murdered and Oath-Breaker. I name you an enemy of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, and I name you a traitor to your kind, for it was you and your clan who attempted to kill Murtagh!"

That was the final straw it seemed. Instantly Vermûnd and Orik began to shout at each other trying to dominate the conversation. Murtagh stood from his seat beside Eragon and hand his hand on Zar'roc ready to draw it if needed. While all this was happening, Arya was watching the two standing dwarves with great interest. Eragon rested his chin on the palm of his hand, waiting for any sudden movements. In its sheath, he could tell that Vrangr was thirsting for the blood of his enemies while Brisingr was waiting to show itself once more in the glory of battle. When Gannel managed to calm them, he turned to Vermûnd.

"Grimstborith Vermûnd, can you refute these charges?" As Eragon expected the dwarf did and now they had to sit and wait until evidence was presented to the other clan chiefs for a decision to be reached. First they received testimony from a dwarf named Rimmar, after swearing in the ancient language to speak honestly, he told them how he and his assistants had made their discoveries concerning the dagger that the assassins had. Then three dwarves the Orik apprehended were brought in. Refusing to cooperate, magicians from each clan invaded their mind to reassert the information that Orik had present earlier. Then Murtagh was called upon to rely his story of the attack and two magicians at random were chosen to inspect his mind to confirm the truth of his words. The inspection went without incident and the magicians corroborated his account to the clan chiefs. When it all seemed like all the evidence was piled against Vermûnd, the dwarf tried for one last measurement and had demanded that Eragon be inspected as well since he was also present during the fighting.

Everyone appeared hesitant at such a request for he was a representative sent from the Varden to merely observe the meetings despite his connection to the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum. "We cannot afford to overlook evidence for this is a serious claim that you are accusing mine clan of," said Vermûnd. Eragon glanced at the dwarf, if he refused that could cause suspicion to rise for they may think that it was a rouse created by Orik to oust out an opposing clan for the throne. He glanced at Arya. She looked displeased but inclined her head. Standing, Eragon waited for Gannel to pick two magicians he thought capable enough to search for what was needed. They were reluctant as they stopped before Eragon. He lowered his barriers to let them in as Arya withdrew from his mind. Like it went with Murtagh, they reconfirmed what was already said.

Eragon returned to his seat, his mind once more joining with Arya's so that they may converse freely as the clans argued. _There is no doubt that he shall be punished, _said Eragon as he watched four of clan chiefs including Orik and Gannel leave to speak amongst themselves. _The evidence is against him. _

_We do not know that yet Eragon for it seems that Vermûnd is sure of escaping this trespass, _replied Arya with a slight hint of distaste. _He would not have attempt an assassination on Murtagh if he did not devise another plan in case it was traced back to him. Remember, those who commit villainy know how to escape villainy. _

True as that may be, Eragon watched as they returned. Íorûnn spoke, "The readers-of-law are unanimous. Even though Murtagh is a sworn member of the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, he also holds position of important beyond our realm: namely, that of Dragon Rider, but also that of a friend of high influence with Queen Islanzadí and her race as a whole. In short, he is our honored guest, and we should treat him as such…which every knurla who is not cave-mad ought to know."

"What say you now, Vermûnd?" demanded Gannel.

Vermûnd looked at ease in his seat as he stared at the other clan chiefs, "Unless you are eager to rend our country into a thousand bloody scraps, I suggest you let the wind waft away this morning's discussion and, in its place, fill your minds with thoughts of who should next rule from upon the granite throne." So that was what Vermûnd had in mind if he was pressed into a corner. He was threatening them to either follow his way or be prepared to fight. How childish thought Eragon staring at Vermûnd. Either way, if Orik decided to let this come to pass, Eragon would not. Murtagh's life was not worth Vermûnd's desire to become the next ruler.

Freowin turned to Vermûnd in disgrace, "You have shamed our race, Vermûnd. We cannot retain our honor as knurlan and ignore your trespass."

The elderly dwarf woman, Hadfala, spoke up as well, "What did you think to accomplish, besides our doom, by killing Murtagh? Though the Varden have two other riders to fight Galbatorix with you've forgotten their relation to Murtagh. Eragon Shadeslayer is the envoy of the Varden as well as the savior of Tronjheim when the Urgals invaded. To kill his brother would only show how ungrateful we are to his services. His bond to the elves will no doubt pit their race against us. If you were to kill Murtagh, you not only anger Eragon but you shall bring down the wrath of Thorn upon our people. Farthen Dûr will be filled with a sea of our own blood and by then there will be no need of a ruler."

At her words Vermûnd remained silent.

Just then Orik laughed, he turned to the veiled faced dwarf. Eragon did not understand his laughter until fifteen minutes later, Vermûnd was cursing at the top of his lungs demanding their attention. But like everyone else in the conference room Eragon merely ignored him. Knowing that he no longer held and significance in the meeting, Vermûnd left taking with him the members of his clan. The tension in the room eased with his departure.

Eragon glanced at Arya as she continued to watch the meeting, she was going to leave after this, no doubt in the following morn and return to the Varden now that Vermûnd was dealt with and Orik has propelled the other clan chiefs to agree to vote for the new ruler. The meeting was adjourned for there was nothing left for them to do but wait until the next meet was upon them in which the new ruler shall be elected. Bidding the others farewell Eragon and Arya retired to their quarters that they were given on their first day of arrival.

"That was rather eventful," said Eragon as he closed the door to their room, once more putting into place wards to protect them from unwanted guests. Arya nodded as she unstrapped Támerlein and set it on top of the table off to the side of the room.

"It was a new experience," said Arya, "I am rather saddened to know that I shall not be here to witness the coronation of the new ruler. Such an event does not happen every century." He snorted slightly at her words before placing his blades with hers.

"Banishment amongst the dwarves is a cruel punishment," commented Eragon. Arya nodded moving about the room to gather her things for her journey. "One is better off dead if their existence is to be ignored."

Arya nodded, "To be is to be perceived," she said as she pulled out her bags and began the daunting task of preparation. He watched her knowing that what would normally take him but a few minutes to prepare will take her hours. After watching her unpack and repack her bags, Eragon stood making his way over to her. He wasn't sure if she already knew of his intentions from his feelings or simply from intuition but she easily sidestepped and avoided his arms that came up to wrap about her waist.

"Good preparation takes time Eragon," said Arya sternly as she made her way to the bedside table where her other belongings remained. He followed her knowing better than to admit defeat for he was unsure of when he would see her again. The dwarves had a knack for dragging out processes. Before she could do anything, faster than she could anticipate he grabbed her about the waist and pushed her down onto the soft mattress of the bed they yet to use since their arrival. She stared up at him with narrowed eyes and reached up to push him off but he grabbed her arms and pinned them by her side. Instantly, Arya frowned at him. "Eragon…"

Her voice was one of warning. If he hadn't absorbed Asura's soul he was sure Arya would have been able to fend him off but her strength could no longer match his. He smiled down at her, "You said you'd spend time with me before you leave."

"I will after I pack," promised Arya. He shook his head.

"It'll take you too long to pack and by the time you've finished it shall be sunrise," said Eragon as he leaned down and placed his lips against the base of her neck. "Let us spend some time together and I promise I shall not bother you afterwards when you are packing." He could feel her resolve waver as he slid his tongue out to taste the skin of her neck, subconsciously gripping her hands tighter. He leaned up and captured her lips in his kissing her roughly before pulling away from her. One kiss was enough to ignite the desire in Arya. "We've been busy as of late and haven't had time to spare for our affections. Will you not let me love you tonight Arya? As your mate?"

**WARNING! WARNING! A VERY DANGEROUS SCENE AHEAD! **

He kissed her once more. This time she responded to him leaning up to fervently kiss him in return. He smiled against her lips slightly surprised at how she gave in. He was sure it was a combination of things that spurred her on. For one the dragons were still hunting giving them peace and quiet for the moment so that they could spend time together without the influence of their dragons' emotions. Another reason was that she was leaving him and this would be the first time since after their bonding that they were going to put a great distance between them. He was unsure of not having her by his side. Releasing her hands, he pushed against her when she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck pulling him flush against her. A gasp escaped her lips as their bodies met. Despite their layers of clothes, he could feel her acutely beneath him. Prying her lips open with his tongue, he reached down to touch her waist feeling aggravated to touch leather rather than her soft skin.

With as much strength as he could muster he pulled away from her breathing harshly. A sound of protest left her lips as she tried to draw him back to her. Inside, Eragon shook his head. He reached down with his right hand and roughly pulled on the laces of his boots. In his hurry his magic unraveled and instantly unlaced both of his boots for him to pull off and toss to the side. He paused momentarily distracted by Arya's soft kisses on the side of his face and jaw line. Regaining some semblance of his mind, he did away with her knee length leather boots and when the last one was tossed over the side of the bed, she reached up and in a quick flourish pulled his tunic off. The article of clothing went to join the boots on the ground. He was about to do the same for her before she tugged his head back to her and kissed him roughly.

In order not to crush her with his weight, he readjusted himself using his knees to brace his lower body while his hands braced his upper body. Feeling Arya's hands glide over his shoulders and down his arms, he shivered. He felt her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, gliding down his chest to his waist and back up as if to memorize the outline of his body. Feeling like his heart was ready to burst, Eragon pulled away for a moment to try and clear his mind. He clenched his hands when she turned her attention to his shoulders suckling the skin there with her strong teeth. The desire to devour her combined with his own ardent feelings rose up in him like flames. He'd never felt more needy of anything else in his entire life. He wanted everything about Arya, he wanted her mind and body, he wanted to be one with her.

He could feel her own passion adding to his burning fire. Arya may seem like a stoic warrior but she desired and lusted just as much as any person. Knowing that she sought the release that only his touch could give her, Eragon reached down and pulled her leather clothing from her tossing the offending material off to the side leaving just Arya underneath him. He took a moment to appreciate her appearance before bending down to kiss her once more. Their lips sought to mold about each other's as their tongues sought dominance in their heated kissing. He felt Arya's left hand flat on his stomach before she reached down and undid his belt, pulling the leather strip out in a fluid motion of her hand. Then without any difficulties, she undid his pants and pushed the clothing from his hips letting it fall. Without breaking contact with her, he shifted his arms and raised himself up slightly to kick his pants off. When he was freed, he used a kick of his feet to throw the last of his clothing to the pile of clothes on the floor.

Without any barriers between them, Eragon could feel the heat between them escalate until it felt like a fire was burning within their room. The fire was internal however and it was burning them alive. Their raw emotions made their nerves sensitive and every touch made their skin blaze with need. He was glad to know that being with Arya in such a way was not only driving him to the brink of insanity but she was also feeling it. They had taken baths together before and at times when they were alone to their own devices shared their love for each other through intimate actions. But they'd yet to consummate their love. He reached down between them and pressed his thumbs against her hip feeling her jerk against his hold gasping in slight surprise.

Like always he wanted to touch every inch of her as much as he could. He took pleasure in seeing her writhe underneath him from the passion of their embrace. Thinking just that, he slid his hand back up gliding over the plane of her flat stomach to the swell of her breast before taking her bosom in his hand. A moan escaped her through their open mouthed kisses. He felt her pleasure within him peaked as he gently massaged her breast. He wanted her to be ready so he could show her truly how much he loved her.

Knowing that teasing her too much would only serve to torture them both, he released her breast and reached down with the same hand to stroke her between her legs. In response, she moaned her hips bucking to meet his hand like it did the first time he'd pleasured her. Taking this moment, they broke for air. Leaning his forehead against hers, his eyes sought her emerald ones. Unlike the usual sharpness in battle, they were clouded with lust and desire and were so dark they were almost black. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing was harsh.

"Arya…" murmured Eragon as he pushed three of his fingers inside of her, feeling her wetness. She gasped her hands coming up to grip his shoulders to steady herself against him. "You're so—" he groaned as he pulled his hand back out and entered her once more. He felt her chest pressed against his as she heavily breathed. Like the few times they'd come together in such intimate ways, Eragon set a tempo to which she danced with him to. His fingers moved against her as she met each push with a push of her own hips. He glanced down to see his fingers become hidden within her folds and it was almost too much for him as he turned back to her kissing her roughly mid gasp. She was close and as his fingers plunged into the very core of Arya, he pulled away from her lips to bite her shoulder eliciting a cry from her as her release crashed through her body. Watching her underneath him, Eragon pressed himself against her unwilling to let her desire subside. As he'd wanted, her desire only increased as she turned her smoldering eyes to him.

Pulling his hand from her, he readjusted himself to settled over her and between her legs which she spread a little wider to accompany his mass. Eragon stared down at her with a blazing expression before bending down to kiss her whispering in the ancient language against her lips, "Are you ready Arya? To become one with me truly?"

Her lips moved against his as her own words left her mouth in the soft caress of the ancient language, "I'm ready Eragon," that was all he needed to know. He felt a great amount of anticipation form in his chest as well as insecurity. Her own anticipation rolled off of him. He had never been this far with Arya and therefore was unsure of himself. He glanced down at her to find her watching him. Seeing her trust in him so wholly gave him confidence. Not only that but she was willing to entrust herself to him mind and body. She was willing to give to him her entire being and that made him sure. Sure of his love for her more than anything. Positioning himself before her, he pushed himself against her feeling her tense. Then taking a deep breath he broke past her barrier, sheathing half of his length in her with a quick thrust of his hips.

He saw her wince and heard her gasp and through her desire, he felt a tinge of pain. Arya despite being a deadly warrior was smaller than him in mass and it no doubt felt painful to her to feel herself being stretched. Eragon waited on baited breath for her pain to subside. He kissed her all over her face to distract her from the pain. A minute or two later, she tightened her hold on his neck shifting against him slightly sliding more of him into her, her pain subsiding. He took this as a signal from her to proceed. Gripping the mattress on either side of her, Eragon groaned when he finally buried himself fully into her. He felt dizzy with desire and pleasure. Never before had his body felt so warm and free. It was a different experience from being drunk. He was more aware of anything. He was aware of his own fired nerves as well as Arya's body beneath his.

He took this moment to feel her about him. To feel her warmth. They were finally one. It was a beautiful feeling. His mind tried to form coherent thoughts to describe his physical joining with Arya but all he thought of was the pleasure he felt and how much he wanted to move his hips. She shifted against him, her mounting desire alerting him to her needs as well as his own. Taking in a deep breath, he pulled back until he was almost free of her before pushing back in. Her reaction enflamed him, her mouth was open as sounds escaped her that he thought wasn't possible from her. They were moans of pure pleasure.

Spurred on, he began to thrust in and out of her creating a rhythm that was pleasurable for them both. After a few thrusts, she began to move with him meeting him for every thrust. Eventually as he became more apt at their union, she leaned her head up and kissed him with an opened mouth kiss. While they were exchanged such kisses, groaning and moaning, he continued to thrust against her gradually picking up speed. Sweat covered their bodies and he could feel his arms shake slightly from exertion. Within him, he felt both of their pleasure mount, climbing higher and higher soaring above the highest of clouds they'd ever flown. This was just like flying Eragon thought dimly in his mind as he continued to love Arya fully and with every bone in his body. They were free with just the two of them and their affections for each other.

Gripping her hips in his hands as she gripped his shoulders, he met her hips roughly pushing against her. She came against him, arching her back against the mattress her mouth was open as she let out a cry, her emerald eyes were wild and unfocused. He felt her nails dig into the skin of his back as he too came with her. His body shaking, he tried his best to keep himself up as tremors racked his body. When it subsided, he fell against her breathing heavily. He could feel her emotions and how relaxed and content she felt. Tiredly blinking, Eragon pulled out from her causing her to gasp slightly, rolling to his side, he collapsed beside her.

**END! YOU ARE ALL CLEARED! **

With the little strength he had left, he drew her close to him her head resting on his chest where she could hear his pounding heart beat and he could feel hers against his own body. Dragging the covers over them, he glanced down at her lightly stroking her long ebony tresses the silky feeling of her hair similar to the silky feeling of her skin and yet different.

Her hand glided over his chest and intertwined with his other hand as she whispered to him in the ancient language, "I love you Eragon."

"And I you Arya," he said content.

Outside their quarters, Murtagh and Orik as well as the rest of the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum were celebrating their victory against the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin through their feasts and celebratory entertainment. They noticed the lack of Arya's and Eragon's presence but none gave it much thought as they drank the night away. Eragon tiredly smiled as he heard Arya's breathing even out. Mind and body, they were finally one.

The night stretched on as well as their content feelings.

**I know what you're all thinking: finally! It seemed like Arya and Eragon were growing distant but Eragon had plenty of things on his mind especially with the dwarves and Arya though reluctant about it, had to make the decision to rejoin the Varden. She's the type who always has to think of duty you know? Anyways now that I've portrayed their actual physical union, there will be less lemons from now on or rather ones that aren't as descriptive. Firsts are always important. I tried to write their coming together as best as I could and I hoped I've portrayed it well. Like I said before I don't usually write lemon buts this is a different case because I love ExA. Please stay tuned readers and if you have any comments/questions do review! I hope to see you soon! **


	64. Chapter 60

Chapter 60

**This is the last of the dwarves everyone! Three cheers for this chapter! Honestly, I felt like I was dragging my feet with the whole new dwarf king business. As much as I like reading about politics and all that, I like the action part of the Inheritance series more. Anyways, I once more took out over embellished details and shortened things up considerably. (I used some of CP's speech here. I do not own anything related to Eragon but this is just my imagination-have to put a disclaimer every once and a while!) Anyways before you start reading, someone asked me about my personal opinion of Inheritance. I've said it before but I'll say it again, I was wholly disappointed. (Let me rant for a little bit-just my opinion): To begin with I felt that CP wrote everything the way he did just because he wanted to go against expectations. ExA would definitely happen we all thought, it's the last book...but no...they get a rather lacking ending and we're are stuck with the thought that never again shall they meet. Also, CP builds up all this excitement in that finally Eragon was going to get some amazing power to defeat Galbatorix and boom! Not one speck of action in the end between them. It was talk, talk, talk...let's have a sideshow of you and Murtagh duking it out and then with a burst of emotions Eragon kills him...I must agree with what the reviewer said it was very anticlimactic...very much so. Another thing that irked me was Roran. (To Roran fans please don't get offend it's just my opinion) How can he defeat Barst and Islanzadi is taken down with a blow to the neck? You have one of the most powerful people...and then Roran. After building up so much about the elves and how a powerful race they were I feel like that was a fluke. I may not like Islanzadi but I would've never thought that between her and Roran, Roran would survive. It just goes against everything CP has been writing in his books. Yes, Roran is indeed strong (hence stronghammer) but he's still a human and humans have limitations. Sometimes I feel like Roran can outmatch Eragon if he wanted to. Everyone just take this moment and imagine Eragon fighting Barst. Like almost every battle, he'll need help from a dozen different sources and yet Roran, goes solo, and kills Barst and the Eldunari he had. What else is there? Ah...For one in the end I think that CP just let Murtagh and Thorn go. Why did he make a character like Murtagh become a recluse in the mountains? That just beats me. It makes no sense and I'll never understand it. Let's see, let's see. When Eragon leaves to become the leader of the riders, I felt that it was sort of hypocritical that he allowed Arya to stay as Queen. Yes, she is Islanzadi's daughter but she is also a rider and that means she has separate duties. Eragon denied being king because he felt like that wasn't his place as a rider and yet...Let's see what else? Half of the mysteries in the cycle was never explained. And it's very odd now to think that Urgals can become riders. I just don't see that happening. I'm all for peace in Alagaesia but I guess the idea never went well with me. And I can go on much longer but this is it for my opinion of Inheritance. To those who loved the book, please don't take offense. And to make up for it there were a few scenes littered here and there that I like. Anyways R&R! **

Despite the small amounts of sleep, Eragon felt rather rejuvenated as he woke. Opening his eyes he waited for them to adjust to the darkness of the chambers. If his senses were correct, he would judge that it was early morning. Rather surprised at himself for waking without any assistance, Eragon was about to sit up before he realized that his arm was pinned underneath the mass that was Arya. She was sound asleep—or rather as close to sleep as elves could get. Looking at her wrapped underneath the covers, he remembered the few hours before and felt himself smile, content.

He felt complete and overjoyed. Maybe that was why he couldn't sleep. Leaning his head back into the pillow, he stared up at the ceiling. Nothing of importance came to him, he couldn't find himself to focus. As he was thinking or rather merely dazing, he felt Arya shift beside him. Her arm which was draped over his chest moved showing her growing awareness. He felt her legs caress his as she stretched fully awake.

"Good morning," Eragon greeted her as he reached for his magic to illuminate their quarters with his werelight. Arya's head was tilted up towards him and she smiled softly, her emerald eyes were warm as she gazed at him with a great amount of affection. He rubbed her back as he studied her, "how do you feel?"

"Content," he could share in her feelings for he felt his body hummed from their earlier union. He stared at Arya for a moment ignoring her soft skin against his which was rather difficult. She was cradled against him, her legs intertwined with his own. He forced his mind and unruly emotions into submission. "It's early morning Arya. The dragons should be back…and you've yet to pack." He waited for her to fly from the bed and hurry about to pack but to his surprise she didn't. Was she tired? He would think that she was. "I could pack for you if you would like to rest."

She laughed lightly moving her hand to trace the muscles in his arm, "I would prefer if you did not. Good preparations takes time," she said repeating her words before he practically jumped on her. Eragon smiled feeling slightly sheepish as he watched her. Her hand glided to a stop to rest atop his shoulder before she leaned up to press her lips against his. Immediately Eragon responded to her wrapping his arms about her waist and pulling her closer to him. Before anything could get out of hand however, he pulled away remembering his promise to her. "Is something amiss?"

"I promised I wouldn't distract you afterwards so you can prepare for your journey back to the Varden," said Eragon. To his surprise, she laughed. Listening to her tinkling laughter he watched as she pushed herself up to lean over him, her hair falling down like a waterfall on one side of her face. His heart stuttered at the sight of her illuminated underneath his werelight.

"Of all the promises that you seek to keep," murmured Arya as she traced an elegant finger from his temple down to his chin, "You would seek to keep this one." She leaned down and kissed him smiling, "You are not bothering me Eragon. I want to spend more time with you." Giving him no room to argue, she leaned down and captured his lips with hers. He responded to her immediately his passion once more coming forth.

Much later, the two of them arrived at the gate where Eridor and Arya would depart from. The dragons were waiting for them as well as Murtagh. He didn't see Orik anywhere and when he asked Murtagh, his half-brother said, "He's gathering his wits about him for the voting. Orik may not see like it but he's rather anxious."

"As he should be," said Arya as she went to load her bags onto Eridor's saddle. The green dragon lowered himself to the ground to help her attach her bags. While she was doing that, Eragon went to greet Saphira glad to see she had returned.

_How was the hunt? _Eragon smiled at her as he rubbed the scales on her neck. She hummed turning to him. With a gentle nudge on his shoulders, he felt Saphira's affections for him rush through.

_It went well, _answered Saphira as she showed him an image of how she pounced on an unsuspecting boar, clamping down on the wild animal with her strong jaw. Eragon smiled at how ferocious she looked. She was a dragon after all. Not bothered by the rather graphic image, he blinked when her sapphire eyes turned to him. He felt her curiosity emanate from her over their link. Saphira sniffed him and he felt her surprise climb. _You smell different Eragon. _

_I smell different? _He reached up and smelled his hand. He didn't see any difference. But Saphira was still sniffing him as if he'd jumped into a lake filled with different aromas. He tried to smell himself again but couldn't find anything different about his scent. _I do not smell anything Saphira. _

As he said it, Eridor snaked his head towards him and sniffed him. He waited as the emerald dragon studied Eragon. Feeling Eridor's mind touch his, Eragon lowered his barriers for the dragon. _It's a faint change in your scent but you smell differently now Eragon. _

_How? _Even though his senses were now acute, he couldn't smell the difference that the dragons did. He glanced at Arya and she inclined her head showing that she didn't understand what the dragons were saying. Thorn was apart from the two, merely watching them with interest.

_You smell like Arya, _commented Saphira finally answering his question. Her answer surprised Eragon. He felt Saphira's emotions flow through him. She was overjoyed for him and like always her teasing side came out. _But of course you would use this opportunity to mate with your elf. _

_You don't have to say it like that, _thought Eragon as Eridor laughed his rumbling laugh. Arya raised a brow as she came to join him. Saphira titled her head to the side staring down at him with bright eyes. _You are not unhappy with our union? _

_Why would I be? Arya is the reason you are here today, she is as much of a part of me as you are now, _her words were sincere as she nudged the elf showing her affections for Arya as a part of their family. _I'm overjoyed that you can share this wonder with someone such as her. It has changed you for the better Eragon. _

_I know, _agreed Eragon turning to Arya. "The sun has reached its peak in the sky," said Eragon as the dwarves guarding the northern gates began to turn the gears opening the heavy stone doors. "If you and Eridor fly swiftly you should reach the Varden in three days time."

She nodded. Murtagh, who had been quiet since then, stepped forward smiling at Arya as one would a friend, "Fair winds to the both of you Arya, Eridor. I hope to rejoin you after I've traveled to Ellesmeŕa. Please take care of Nasuada and the Varden until then."

Arya's voice was kind as she spoke to Murtagh, "I shall give you my word until then may you meet good fortunes on your on your tasks Murtagh. And may you continue to grow into a strong predator of the skies Thorn," the red dragon acknowledged her words with a puff of smoke, pleased. Arya stroked Saphira's snout sharing a few words with her before turning to Eragon. He tried his best to smile at her already feeling rather empty despite Arya not having yet to depart.

She reached forward and took his hands in hers with a smile and he could feel her own reluctance to part with him for ever since they'd joined the Varden, they'd shared in each other's hardships. Now they would part to fulfill the duties given to them. "Let fortune watch over you Eragon," she said in a low whisper only for him to hear. "I will not be with you but do not let that dishearten you for we are a bonded pair in mind and body."

"I'll strive to complete what Nasuada wanted of me to rejoin you," promised Eragon. She didn't respond to him. The two of them stood there together letting silence reign over them. What they wanted to say they'd already said back in the chambers in words and in actions. Her hand gripped his tighter as she stepped forward to share a sweet kiss with him. It was with great strength when Eragon pulled away watching her jump gracefully from Eridor's leg to his shoulder where the saddle was. Strapping herself in, she spared them one last look before Eridor reared up and with a strong beat of his wing rose up into the air. Not the least unbalanced by the torrents of air that was pushed down at them, Eragon watched with a heavy heart as they departed flying out into the open sky the gates closing behind them with a great thud.

_They will be fine, _murmured Saphira also feeling rather lonely now that Eridor had left. He was her mate after all. Eragon nodded. He turned to Murtagh and the two of them made their way to the conference room deep beneath Tronjheim where the voting will commence in another hour. He had to worry about Orik's chances for the throne, thought Eragon. He couldn't just blindly think of Arya. Shaking his head, he cleared his mind. He needed to focus. It was all he was going to need in the upcoming meeting.

And he was right.

Standing up from the stone table in the center of the room, the white-haired dwarf woman Hadfala spoke, "On behalf of min clan, I vote for Grimstborith Orik as our new king." Eragon watched as the first vote was casted from his seat against the wall of the circular room. Beside him Murtagh leaned forward looking rather tense. From what he heard from Orik, Hadfala had originally been backing Gannel as the new king. However that was before the attempt on Murtagh's life. Orik was in fair shape starting out.

Next, Gáldhiem of Dûrgrimst Feldûnost rose from the table despite his short stature. "On behalf of mine clan," he declared, "I vote for Grimstborith Nado as our new king."That wasn't a surprise thought Eragon as the dwarf resumed sitting. He could see Nado smiling looking rather pleased with himself.

Then Manndrâth of Dûrgrimst Ledwonnû said, "On behalf of mine clan, I vote for Grimstborith Orik as our new king," Orik nodded towards him in thanks receiving a nod in return. Then it was Gannel who would cast his vote next. Before the assassination attempt on Murtagh, Gannel was a favorite to contend for the throne but now it seemed like he would no longer have a strong enough backing to take the throne for his clan. Though despite that, Gannel was said to have a great influence amongst his race and whoever he chose, the crown would most likely go.

"On behalf of mine clan," Gannel said, "I vote for Grimstborith Nado as our new king."

And so it went thought Eragon as a wave of soft exclamations broke out amongst the dwarves watching from the perimeter of the circular room. The pleased expression Nado wore broadened as if now he was certain to take the throne. Murtagh was on edge. Not moved Eragon watched the voting continue. He was certain that Orik had what it took to lead his people to glory but will the others realize it as well was the question. If worst came to worst, Nado would be voted as the new king and the Varden's position will be compromised.

Following Gannel, Ûndin of Dûrgrimst Ragni Hefthyn proclaimed, "On behalf of mine clan, I vote for Grimstborith Nado as our new king." Orik was now outnumbered by one. Would Nado be a good king for his people thought Eragon. He glanced at the dwarf in question. He was a proud dwarf who only believed in the prosperity of his own race and could care less about the livelihood of those outside of Farthen Dûr. If he was voted king the Varden will be sorely crippled.

Thordis of Dûrgrimst Nagra stood. "On behalf of mine clan, I vote for Grimstborith Orik as our new king." Now it was three to three. This was no doubt going to be a close vote. Not surprisingly, Nado was next and he voted himself as king. Following him Freowin of Dûrgrimst Gedthrall voted for Nado as well despite his promise to cast Orik his vote. It appeared as if Nado was using him to play Orik. Despite his anger at the betrayal, Orik stood and casted the vote for himself tallying up the votes five to four in Nado's favor. There was nothing he could do to ensure Orik as the new king but he could tell that Murtagh was struggling to think of a way to put Orik in the lead. Eragon was positive that Murtagh would only end up grasping at straws. This was an affair that wasn't of their realm the influence they had with the dwarves was slight.

The next dwarf to rise was Havard of Dûrgrimst Fanghur. He tapped the table once and then slapped the stone with the flat of his hand. Lifting his chin, he said, "On behalf of mine clan, I vote for Grimstborith Orik as our new king." Now they were evened. There were only two clan chiefs left to vote. It would irk him greatly if this meet was declared a draw and they had to adjourn for three days before meeting again. By dwarf law, if the process to electing a new ruler was tied the clan chiefs with the least votes would be eliminated in the next round and they would continue voting until they ended up with one clan chief receiving a majority of the votes. They didn't have time for such a thing but still that was better than Nado becoming king. He had made it quite clear that he would not support the Varden in their war efforts against Galbatorix.

He watched as Hreidamar of Dûrgrimst Urzhad spoke after receiving a nod from Íorûnn, "On behalf of min clan, I vote for Grimstborith Orik as our new king." Orik was now in the lead. There were only two choices left either Íorûnn voted for Orik and made him their new king or she voted for Nado and ended the voting in a tie. To Eragon, she didn't seem like one who would merely sit still for another three days to continue such a tedious process. No, she would likely vote for Orik and put her in his favor for she was now the deciding vote. And as the grimstborith of the War Wolves, he couldn't see her idly sitting by as Galbatorix's regime was challenged.

She stood and in a low, husky voice addressed those present in the meet, "It seems it falls to me to decide the outcome of today's meet. I have listened most carefully to your arguments, Nado, and your arguments Orik. While you have both made points I agree with upon a wide range of subjects, the most important issue we must decide is whether to commit ourselves to the Varden's campaign against the Empire. If Galbatorix emerges triumphant from this war, not even the Beor Mountains will protect us from his wrath. If our own realm is to survive, we must see Galbatorix overthrown. Moreover, it strikes me that hiding in caves and tunnels while others decide the fate of Alagaësia is unbecoming of a race as old and as powerful as ours. When the chronicles of this age are written, shall they say we fought alongside the humans and the elves, as the heroes of old, or that we sat cowering in our halls like frightened peasants while a battle raged outside our doors? I, for one, know mine answer," Íorûnn tossed back her hair, then said, "On behalf of mine clan, I vote for Grimstborith Orik as our new king!"

Eragon smiled slightly as the eldest of the readers-of-law stepped forward to announce the new elected king amongst the clans. Eragon wanted to chuckle as he watched the dead-eye expression that Nado wore. It seemed like no dwarf was graceful in the practice of concession. Watching as the clan chiefs swore their loyalty to Orik, they waited until Orik announced for the coronation to take place tomorrow before dismissing everyone leaving just Orik and his attendants, Murtagh, and Eragon. No one spoke, still sitting in his chair he watched as Murtagh and Orik faced each other in silence. Then a smile stretched across Orik's face and the two of them burst out laughing, relieved of the outcome of the voting.

As they were celebrating Orik's victory, a long, low note reverberated throughout the floor, ceiling, and the air of the room. He felt the chair he was sitting in vibrate along with the tone. "Listen!" cried Orik raising a hand. Silence reigned over the room as the bass notes sounded four times more announcing Orik's kingship. Congratulating Orik, Eragon took his leave to find Saphira and tell her of the good news. The Varden's position was now ensured with Orik as the new king.

The next day, Eragon and Murtagh stood beside each other dressed in fine clothing that Orik had gifted them with to attend his coronation. The Drums of Derva sounded continuously, summoning the of Tronjheim to witness the coronation of their new king. Normally when a dwarf was elected as the new king or queen, the dwarf can begin ruling at once. However the coronation would be held three months later for dwarves all over Farthen Dûr to settle their affairs and travel to Farthen Dûr. However, due to the haste of events outside of the Beor Mountains, Orik had it rushed to the next day.

They stood outside the central chambers of Tronjheim, listening to the pounding of the giant drums. The dragons appeared to be conversing silently to each other as they waited for the dwarves to file in occupying the archways of each level. He could feel their eyes on them. They waited until the final note of from the drums faded into silence. The crowd shifted, and he heard the soft rustle of clothes. A fanfare of dozens of trumpets rand forth, filling the city-mountain with its rousing call and to join the trumpets he heard choir of dwarves. He glanced at Murtagh, who nodded to him. With their dragons following the advanced into the central chamber where the ring of clan chiefs, guild leaders, and other notable individuals stood. In the center of the chamber rested the reconstructed Isidar Mithrim which was just finished an hour earlier for Saphira to repair. Eragon spotted the black granite throne upon the dais next to the star sapphire facing the eastern branch of Tronjheim. Thousands of dwarf warriors stood at attention and at the forefront of the congregation was Orik's wife, Hvedra whom Eragon met the night before.

It was a long procession thought Eragon as the trumpets continued playing for the next half an hour joined with the choir. Step by step, Orik came from the eastern branch of Tronjheim and approached the granite throne with a procession of twelve dwarf children behind him: six male, six female. As Eragon watched he thought of how Arya would've liked to see the coronation of the new king, one whom she knew for some time. Dressed in the finest clothing there was, Orik stopped before the granite throne and knelt bowing his head. The trumpets and choir ceased as Gannel stepped forward holding a tall staff with a clear, pointed crystal mounted on the top. Eragon watched as he lifted it high up in the air before bringing it down on the floor, exclaiming something in dwarvish. He watched interested in what it was the Gannel was doing. He was weaving a spell however it had no purpose for he spoke without directing the flow of magic to anyone or anything. As he spoke, Eragon kept his eyes open for any change in the central chamber. He couldn't feel the surge of magic but as he looked up, Eragon saw a disturbance in the air thirty feet above them. The tumbling petals refused to fall forming an outline of some invisible being in the air. He watched interested as arms were formed from the petal that could belong to any race but with different proportions. The head was as wide as the shoulders, the torso strong and bulky supported by crooked thin legs, and to give it an even stranger appearance its arms fell below its knees. Radiating within the petals were blinding lights and as the figure settled, he could feel a strong consciousness settled over Tronjheim. With a single motion, the dwarves sank to their knees.

The god spoke, if one could call it that, in strong dwarvish. Protecting his mind as well as Saphira's from the immense presence, he watched as the god questions Orik three times to which Orik responded each time. Apparently pleased with Orik's answers, the apparition extended his glowing arms and placed his forefingers on either side of Orik's bare head. The air between the god's fingers rippled and upon Orik's head materialized the gem-encrusted held of gold that Hrothgar had worn. The god slapped his bellow and uttered a booming chuckle and then faded into oblivion. The rose petals continued to fall uninterrupted. Eragon watched them fall uninterrupted.

Then with a great shout Gannel proclaimed, "Ûn groth Gûntera!" The trumpets blared with his shout.

Rising from his knees, Orik ascended the dais, turned to fact the assembly, and then he sank into the hard black throne. The dwarves rose striking their shields with their axes and spears all the while shouting, "Nal, Grimstnzborith Orik!"

Eragon refrained from joining in on the shout as Saphira and Thorn released jets of flames into the air, their bellows echoing in the large central chamber of the stone city. The petal of roses were incinerated before they could reach the ground. Then Gannel knelt before Orik and spoke in Dwarvish, swearing his fealty before the public to Orik. One by one the other clan chiefs followed. The only clan chief that was not public was Grimstborith Vermûnd who had been banned from the coronation. One the clan chiefs were done, the guild leaders were next until Murtagh walked forward to swear his loyalty to Orik for he was a sworn member of his clan. Then it was Eragon's turn, walking forward to the dais where Orik was sitting. He was not a sworn member of Orik's clan, only Murtagh was and therefore had asked of Orik if he could be exempt from swearing his loyalty. Though he was related to Murtagh and by law was considered a member of the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, it wasn't official. And they were using that to keep the balance of power between the races. He congratulated Orik as Nasuada's emissary and promised the Varden's friendship on Nasuada's behalf.

Then he made way for the other dwarves to go and pledge their loyalty to Orik. The procession continued onwards for hours each dwarf offering Orik gifts from their clan or guild. Gifts that were priceless or gifts that were touching. In exchange, Orik presented the dwarves with rings as tokens of his gratitude. Murtagh presented Orik with a golden armlet that he had enchanted with various spells to protect him while Thorn had used the dragon magic that he'd used when blessing Elva to create two way mirrors for Orik and his wife to use if they were ever separated over a great distance. Imbued in the mirror were several ruby scales of his that were on the outer part of his body and wouldn't be missed. Then it was Eragon's turn. Once again he knelt before Orik and withdrew from his tunic a wooden case to which he handed the dwarf king. Orik opened it to reveal a dagger with a golden blade and the insignia of the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum on it. Arya had warned him while he was in Ellesmeŕa to think of a gift for Orik if he were to be crowned king and this was the only gift he could think of. "Though you fight with a hammer, one should always have another weapon equipped. It is a dagger made of the finest steel there is to be found on Alagaësia. I have set spells on it to cut through several wards if you find yourself up against a foe protected by magic. A king should always have his blade sharp."

Inclining his head, Orik accepted the gift from Eragon. "Your gift is most appreciated Eragon Shadeslayer." In full view, he slid the dagger into his belt the golden pommel shining brightly.

Saphira spoke next, projecting her thoughts to everyone who was watching: _My gift is this, Orik. _She walked past the throne, her claws clacking against the floor, and reared up and placed her forefeet upon the edge of the scaffolding around the reassembled star sapphire. The wooden beams creaked at her weight but held. Minutes passed but nothing happened, but Saphira remained where she was, gazing at the huge gemstone.

The dwarves watched her, never blinking, hardly breathing.

Eragon knew to trust in her magic. She had an inner strength that she'd proven time and time again. When he was younger, she changed him bestowing on him the characteristics of an elf. Just then a single voice, low and clear, wafted across the chamber, singing in a slow, wistful melody. One by one, the other members of the hidden dwarf choir joined in the song, filling Tronjheim with their music. Although he did not understand what the choir sang, Eragon could feel the lamentation of the song flow through him. It was a lament for the things that had been and were no more. He couldn't think of anything in his past that could give meaning to the song. He had nothing back then but now he had things that he'd never thought he would have in his life. He had Saphira, he had his family, Arya, and so much more. No, he wasn't going to turn back. The life that he'd abandoned in Urû'baen meant nothing to him. He was going to continue onwards and wander until he found what it was that he was searching for. He'll do it with the wings Saphira gave him. As a response to his thoughts, Vrangr grew warm.

As the song ended, he felt something awaken in Saphira in the most ancient part of her being. When the final note was sung, a surge of energy rushed through Saphira and she bent down and touched the tip of the star sapphire with her snout. The cracks within the giant gemstone flared with bright light, and then the scaffolding shattered and fell to the floor revealing an Isidar Mithrim that was whole. But not quite the same. The color of the jewel was darker and richer and the innermost petals of the rose were shot through with streaks of dusky gold.

There was silence as everyone stared in wonder at the restored jewel of Tronjheim. Then they leaped to their feet, cheering and applauding Saphira. She dipped her head towards the crowd and walked towards Eragon bending to touch him gently on the head with her snout. There was no need for words between them because he understood how she felt and she understood him. That was all there was to their bond.

Lifting his arms, Orik quieted the crowd and then he said, "On behalf of our entire race, I thank you for your gift, Saphira. Today you have restored the pride of our realm, and we shall not forget your deed." Eragon inwardly chuckled, Saphira was the very one to carry Arya, allowing her to shatter the star sapphire. "Let it not be said that knurlan are an ungrateful lot; from now on until the end of time, your name shall be recited at the winter festivals, along with the lists of Master Makers, and when Isidar Mithrim is returned to its setting peak of Tronjheim, your name will be engraved in the collar surrounding the Star Rose."

That was thanks enough for Saphira's hard work thought Eragon as Orik personally thanked them later on. After the conclusion of the coronation, Eragon merely sat long enough in the following celebration to have a short drink with Murtagh before he retired to his quarters now empty apart from himself seeing as Arya had left yesterday morn. It would no doubt take her another day or two before she reached the Varden. He spoke with her through the use of scrying last night and she had given her word that she would contact him once she safely arrived to the Varden.

Rather than use his time to rest, he turned to the mirror in the room and whispered a spell. The surface of the mirror rippled as if it was water before forming an image of a command tent. He waited. A minute passed before the image of Nasuada appeared before him. He greeted her formally. Her expression was anxious as she waited for his news.

"The new king was elected," said Eragon as Nasuada waited on baited breath. He smiled, "It may please you to know that grimstborith Orik of Dûrgrimst Ingeitum is now king of the dwarves as was his father before him." It took her a moment to digest his words and when she did, she looked relieved. Smiling Nasuada had him explain as best as he could what had happened since his arrival to Farthen Dûr. He did so trying as best to inform her of the details without overstepping his boundaries since this was indeed a sacred and secretive process amongst the dwarves. The deliberations that was. When he was done, Nasuada appeared satisfied.

"I would like to congratulate you, Eragon. By ensuring Orik became king you have preserved our alliance with the dwarves, and that might mean the difference between victory and defeat. How long until the rest of the dwarves' army will be able to join us?"

"The warriors have already been ordered to ready themselves for departure," explained Eragon from where he sat before the mirror. "It will probably take a few days to muster their forces, but once they do, they'll march immediately."

"It's a good thing too. We can use their assistance as soon as possible. Which reminds me, when can we expect you to return? We are upon the city of Feinster and need your help if we ever hope to take it for our own. Will it take you three days? Four days?"

At her words, Eragon's brows creased. Lately he'd been contemplating deeply about his next course of actions. He knew that he was her sworn vassal and that he had to abide by her decisions but he was worried about something. Instead Eragon stared Nasuada straight in the eyes as he spoke, "That depends. There is something I would like to request of you Nasuada."

She pursed her lips as if already knowing his request. "Continue on Eragon."

"I would like permission to join Queen Islanzadí and her forces at Gil'ead."

**The end of the chapter? What did you think everyone? Well I'll keep this short since I made the A/N in the beginning rather long. Sorry for ranting! Anyways I hope to see you soon! Review if you have time! :) **


	65. Chapter 61

Chapter 61

**Hello again everyone! This chapter is in Arya's POV. It's been quite a while since I've written her POV and I've always liked trying to build an Arya that is the same as CP's and yet not. Anyway, this is merely a filler chapter that will lead up to the battle for Feinster and Gil'ead. There's not much that I have to say so enjoy reading everyone. R&R! **

Hacking down another soldier in her path, Arya easily pulled Támerlein from the lifeless body before her. She felt ill at ease as she stared at the looming city overhead. They were drawing closer to the city of Feinster and preparing for the siege. It was a fairly large city and from the looks of the preparations it was well equipped for a siege. She could spot the outlines of heavy cauldrons spaced evenly about the parapet ready to rain down hot oil on any who dared to climb the city walls. With a flick of her wrist, she cleaned Támerlein of the blood that stained its emerald blade.

Sheathing her blade, she glanced up when Eridor came to stand beside her. Unlike his earlier fierce stance, he was relaxed with his eyes gazing out onto the short span of land between them and the city. _I can hear them reinforcing the walls, _he said. Arya frowned slightly. That would make matters all the more difficult. It was easy enough for her and Eridor to fly over the gates of Feinster and unlock it from within but if they did so, they would have to try their best to fend off attacks from the soldiers staying there. There was also the underlying worry that Galbatorix had sent several of his magicians to help guard the city.

Though Feinster was not as an important city as Gil'ead was, she was positive that her mother and her forces can easily render any type of magic that blocked their way. The Varden was not like the elven army. They lacked magic. There was the Du Vrangr Gata but they lacked skilled magicians. From what she saw when she helped Eragon to train them they were very few scattered in their numbers that had any chance of holding their guard against a magician of the Empire. Staring at the city for a moment longer, Arya turned to Eridor.

_Let us continue Eridor, _the emerald dragon bobbed his head up and down once. Arya turned back to the forefront and continued onward, the forces of the Varden marching behind her. Ever since she'd returned to Ellesmeŕa, Nasuada had asked that she help dispatch the marauding groups of soldiers that Lady Lorana sent to harass the Varden and delay their arrival to the city. They were becoming more frequent thought Arya grimly as she continued to walk with Eridor behind her his great mass easily seen due to the openness of the fields. Slightly behind her were the elves that were dispatched to guard Murtagh. They'd stayed behind when the three of them departed ways after a request from Murtagh. He and Thorn had managed to argue that with the three of them and their dragons gone for a period of time, the Varden would be left defenseless. Arya hadn't thought much of it for the twelve of the elves sent to the Varden were mainly sent to guard Murtagh nothing else. When Eragon interjected and also asked that the elves remained, there was a slight change in the meaning of the request. At the thought of Eragon, she suddenly became irate. The tender affections she felt at remembering how he asked Blödhgarm to stay behind with the Varden were short lived.

She could feel Eridor's amusement as he followed behind her. Ever since she left Eragon, she found her temperament grow slim. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel a stark contrast in her without Eragon's presence. It was different from when she left to search for Murtagh after he rescued Katrina from Helgrind. They weren't bonded yet. Now that they were bonded, she found a change in her attitude after she'd left him at Farthen Dûr. She grew impatient and barely had the right mindset when dealing with others. It took all of her strength to maintain her stoic façade. But oftentimes, she found herself ready to snap. To add to it, the thought of Eragon traveling to join her mother at Gil'ead made her mood even worst.

"More soldiers ahead!" yelled Bard as he ran forward from behind her. She took a moment to stare at the blond haired man as he easily ran towards the enemy company holding a long sword in his hand. Bard, serving as a commander in the Varden, had asked to join their company against the troops of Feinster. It was a slight larger company than the first few but she wasn't daunted. Springing forward behind Bard, she drew Támerlein from its sheath once more as Eridor pounced over her landing before the troops. He let out a terrifying roar, burning to death the soldiers in his way, before with a whip of his tail, sent four others flying about twenty feet. They hit the ground motionless, crushed from the blow. Eridor's attack accomplished what he'd wanted. He'd managed to scatter the troops for them to easily deal with. Arching away from the center of the company, she ran towards the left towards the scattered soldiers.

"Form up everyone! We cannot let these blasted creatures reach the city gates!" the commander yelled gesturing for his troops to reform else they would be slaughtered. Hearing his words, they scrambled to do as he said. Whether or not they were in formation didn't bother her. In the end, they weren't going to be the victors. Running forward, she easily brought up Támerlein as one of the soldiers thrust his spear forward believing that he would impale her. She cut the shaft of the spear with ease and then proceeded to stab him in the gut. His companions let out terrified shouts, half mixed with anger, as they cursed her and her people. Removing her sword, she turned to the fallen soldier's companions.

"Will you surrender?" asked Arya coldly, "This battle is pointless."

"Never! Surrendering to you is as good as handing over our home to you foul demons! Fight for peace! Bah!" one of the soldiers spat at her feet. He was either very brave or very foolish thought Arya as she stared at him. "The Varden are traitors to their people and Empire allying themselves with elves and Urgals! I'd bet that traitor of a rider is there with you as well! Eragon was it? Hmph, Gabranth was a more fitting name!"

At the mention of Eragon, she felt her anger peak for several reasons. Knowing that talk with them was useless, with a flourish of her sword she rushed towards them as her earlier irritation returned to her. With the pommel of her sword, she knocked the soldier speaking to her in the joint of his elbow snapping the bone. He howled and his sword tumbled from his fingers. Not letting him suffer anymore she beheaded him. It irked her for some reason that these soldiers would speak so of Eragon when he'd worked so hard to be who he was today. _Gabranth…_An image of an ebony helm with horns protruding from each side flashed in her mind. She sidestepped a downward slash and killed the soldier before her with a stab through his buckler and through his chest. _No, he was always Eragon. _

Once more she felt a great amount of affection rush through her when she thought of him which was again extinguished when she thought of his decisions. Two nights ago, she'd learned of Eragon's decision to fly to Gil'ead in a meeting with Nasuada as they were devising a battle strategy on how to take Feinster.

She thought back to the conversation and her surprise.

Standing about the center table in the command tent, those present were all armored to fight in case they were called upon it. Staring at the various maps that laid on the table before them Arya was trying to think of a plan that would best benefit them. They couldn't withstand anymore losses as it was. Their forces were tired after the long march from Farthen Dûr, across Surda, and finally to Feinster. Murtagh was busy and they'd just received word that he'd made it to Du Weldenvarden. Whatever he had to do there wouldn't take long for Oromis and Glaedr were soon to join the elves at Gil'ead.

"We've prepared a battering ram to break through the gates," Nasuada spoke as she stood at the head of the table. Jörmundur stood at her right hand while Bard stood at her left. Across from Arya was Brom with a deep frown on his face, his blue eyes sharp. King Orrin stood garbed in his golden armor opposite Nasuada. "However, I do not believe this will be effective."

"Why do you think so?" asked Orrin with a frown. Despite being a young ruler, he carried himself with much dignity thought Arya as she watched Orrin stand straighter. "The battering ram has yet to be used."

"I am not speaking of the quality of the ram," explained Nasuada, "But the extent of the defenses of Feinster. Galbatorix—rather, Lady Lorana has no doubt begun to reinforce the gates and city walls when she heard of our march for the city. There may be magicians stationed there to protect the gates."

"Then we shall climb the walls," said Orrin simply. At his suggestion Brom shook his head. His voice was gruff as he answered.

"Nay, the walls are eighty feet high. They've sure to prepare catapults and cauldrons of hot oil for our men. The moment they start climbing the walls, they will be bombarded with such," said Brom as he folded his arms across his chest. He paused before glancing at Bard, "Have you ever been there before Bard?"

The commander nodded a serious expression on his face. Despite his easy going personality, when it came to the military, Bard became an apt leader. Already, he'd earned a trusted place amongst the warriors of the Varden. "A year ago, Lord Eragon had visited the city to settle some affairs with Lady Lorana," Bard gestured to a map of the city pointing to the gates. "Near the gates are towers. The machine to open the gates is stationed there. At most it will take two people to open the gates."

"What are your opinions of scaling the walls?" asked Brom wanting to hear Bard's thoughts. That was another mystery about the servant that followed Eragon so devotedly. Many claimed that he had the ability to foretell the consequences of their actions. When Arya had asked him about it he merely told her that it was a "gut feeling" of his.

Bard rubbed the growing stubble on his chin, "Lord Eragon once said that only those willing to throw away their lives would scale the walls if they weren't equipped with wards or such," though Bard said it like it was an off handed comment, its effects were quite significant. Arya was amused for she had no doubt that Eragon said it in the way Bard described. Eloquence was something he rarely called on. Brom nodded taking the words of his son seriously. Nasuada's frown deepened. Jörmundur shifted on his feet while Orrin scowled. Eragon's words had to be taken seriously for he was once a part of the Empire as a rider to Galbatorix. He knew more about the cities and their defenses than they did. After a moment Orrin slammed his hands on the table.

"Then what are we going to do? Merely wait until they think it fit to invite us into their cities? If we cannot scale the walls then are we to dig tunnels underground like the dwarves?" asked Orrin, he glared at Bard as if frustrated that he'd even commented on the battle strategy.

Nasuada shook her head, "No, we shall have two of our strongest warriors fly into the city and open the gates for us. It will be risky for we do not know the numbers stationed at the tower but the presence of a dragon will surely make them think twice."

"Ah," Orrin nodded, "Yes, Eragon can open the gates for us."

Nasuada's frown deepened and her eyes were hard as she glanced around the table at all of them before saying in a hard voice, "Eragon will not be joining us in the siege for Feinster." A shocked silence was their response to her words. Arya reeled in her surprise, outside of the command tent listening through her mind was Eridor and she could feel his own surprise at the news. Eragon wasn't going to be joining them? Did something happen while he was at Farthen Dûr? No, she thought, she was told that Orik became the new king meaning that everything had gone as they'd hoped.

"Why not?" asked Brom sharply, his voice tinged with worry.

It looked as if it pained her to do so but Nasuada continued speaking, "He is flying with Saphira to join Queen Islanzadí and her forces at Gil'ead." The tension in the command tent grew. The air felt so thick that Arya believed it had taken a tangible form. At the mention of her mother, she felt all eyes rest on her. Like usual, Arya did not show any signs of emotion. But inwardly she was confused and angered. Why hadn't he told her?

_He may not have thought about it until after you've left, _Eridor spoke up trying to defend Eragon, _You told him that we were returning to the Varden the day before you left. Perhaps, it occurred to him like how it occurred to you. _

_Still…_Arya trailed off. Eridor in order to avoid the turbulent feelings going on in her withdrew slightly. Orrin's earlier frustration returned to him with a vengeance. He was glaring darkly at Arya though he spoke to Nasuada, "And why would he do such a thing when he is a vassal of yours, Nasuada?"

"He had brought to my concern that we have been unfair in the balance of power amongst our forces," said Nasuada with such a great amount of force that drew everyone's eyes. "Ever since Murtagh arrived at the Varden, he has brought with him Arya, a new rider, as well as Eragon. Ever since, we've be coddled by the combined forces of three riders. Our forces have grown comfortable with their protection. Meanwhile, Queen Islanzadí and her forces have taken Ceunon without seeking any assistance and now she and her forces march on Gil'ead, a city that lies not far from Urû'baen. The elves have always been a reliable ally of ours regardless of whom is within our presence."

Arya was going to have to thank Nasuada later on for emphasizing that point. The dark skinned leader continued refusing to let anyone interrupt her, "They've marched with us in hopes that once we've reached the gates of Urû'baen that we can defeat Galbatorix. Without their help we have no chances of taking the city with or without our riders. In addition, a dragon rider that is rightfully theirs, has lent us her aid on numerous occasions rather than her people. It is poor form to offer them no assistance in return as they prepare to take one of Galbatorix's favored cities."

Orrin's eyes narrowed, "Did Queen Islanzadí request this of Eragon?"

At the undertone in his voice, Arya's emerald eyes turn to the king. She may not be on good terms with her mother but it did not sit well with her how King Orrin spoke of her. She was the ruler of their people and as such deserved respect.

Nasuada shook her head, "No, he requested that he fly to join them to ensure that we both do not suffer losses. Our allies are important King Orrin and without them, the Varden is no more than a ragtag band of warriors demanding independence from an Empire that outnumbers us greatly. In any case, it was Eragon's choice and as his liege lord I gave him permission to go for I believe it is in the best interest of the Varden."

"It is not hard to believe why he would ask of you such a request," muttered Orrin his eyes once more sliding to Arya's. She felt her lips thinned. Eridor from outside of the tent, shifted his shadow changing against the cloth of the command tent.

_I can frighten him for you if you want, _he offered her. She declined as she turned to Orrin, lifting her chin up.

"There is a fine line between feelings and duties King Orrin, Eragon and I understand that above all else," said Arya in a rather cold voice. There was a chill in the command tent as they all absorbed her words. Averting his eyes, King Orrin grunted. She turned her attention back to Nasuada as she began to turn the subject back to the battle strategy they were trying to agree on.

"With that said, I've received word that Murtagh and Thorn shall rejoin us in a few days time in time for the siege. We shall have both him and Arya, as well as two of Murtagh's guards, fly over the walls of the city and open the gates from within. You must hurry though for we will be open targets waiting for you outside the city walls," Nasuada grimaced slightly. "I shall not be joining the forces personally for my injuries have yet to heal and without Eragon here to command the army I shall leave that task with the both of you, Bard and Jörmundur…"

The meeting continued on but she found herself thinking deeply about Eragon and his decisions to fly and join her mother at Gil'ead. There was only one reason why he would do such. He was worried for Oromis and Glaedr.

Arya twirled on the spot, slicing the soldiers about her as they tried to surround and overwhelm her. She felt her displeasure grow as she thought of the conversation she had with Eragon afterwards when she scryed him. Sitting at her table in the middle of her tent, Arya stared down into the surface of the water in the basin before her. Eragon was staring at her from the water's surface. They didn't say anything to each other for some time. She stared at him trying not to think of the time they'd spent together before she left for the Varden for that would only weaken her resolve.

"You are going to join my mother at Gil'ead," said Arya. He nodded. "Why is it that you did not tell me?"

His eyes shifted as he stared at her, "I wasn't sure of my decisions until after you left." He was speaking honestly for he spoke to her in the ancient language. She stared at him for a long moment before sighing rubbing her temples with her fingers. "Have you been receiving trouble because of my decision?"

Smashing the sword of her opponent into a thousand fragments, Arya killed the soldier by stabbing him in the gut. Her anger was getting the best of her, taking in a deep breath she pushed the memory from her mind. It would only serve to annoy her. What was more was that she knew that Eragon was right for doing what he did. He was merely trying to even the balance of power in their forces. It was unfair to have the dragon riders only fight on the Varden's front. Dispatching the last of the soldiers before her, she sighed. Eridor was a few paces away. He sniffed at a body of a soldier and turned to her. Knowing what he was asking she held up her hand and with her magic snapped the armor off of the body. With a snap of his jaws he ate up the body of the soldier.

She turned away as a horn sounded from the Varden signaling that they were stopping for the day. She wiped Támerlein clean with the tunic of one of the fallen bodies. Using a moment to draw the remaining life energy from the dead soldiers, she stored it away in the emerald jewel on the pommel of her sword. Done, she sheathed the blade.

Eridor walked over to her and nudged her. She turned to him and climbed to sit between his shoulder and neck. As one the two of them returned to the Varden as they started setting up camp. In another day's time, they would reach the outskirts of the city. The warriors would wait until Murtagh returned and then she and Murtagh would fly into Feinster and open the gates from within. When they reached the outskirts of the encampment, Arya jumped off from Eridor and made her way through the tents that were being set up. She ignored the stares that she received and searched with her mind for the location where Finny was. He had offered to carry her things while she fought. As usual, she found him guarding Selena and Brom.

Brom and Selena sat on a wooden cart that was made from magic and cushioned for comfort. The horses that belonged to Eragon when he was in Urû'baen were tied to the cart. As a reward for their hard work, Desdemona was feeding the two horses apples. Like Eragon, his horses were very refined.

Finny was busy setting up the tent and such in the open space they decided to occupy. Arya made her way over to them. Hearing her approach, Finny glanced up a smile brightening across his lips, "Ah, Arya there you are!" he paused in his work and hurried to the second cart behind the one in which Brom and Selena were sitting in and reached in to pull out Eridor's saddles and her bags. "Where would you like me to put this?"

"I can take it Finny," said Arya as she reached for her things but the young boy refused to hand it over to her insisting that Eragon would have his head for making her do physical labor. Honestly thought Arya as she watched him put up her tent near theirs, she didn't need to be pampered. She was going to have to talk to Eragon about having him speak with Finny. While he was working, Selena with the help of Brom lowered herself from the cart. Arya watched as she made her way over to her supported by Brom.

"It's good to see that you are unharmed Arya," she said kindly. Arya inclined her head at her. Selena was very close to child birth. Two more weeks or so and the baby will be born. It was odd to think that nearly a year had passes since Eragon had joined the Varden. Her eyes wandered to her round belly and she thought of the only two children in Ellesmeŕa: Alanna and Dusan. They were conceived twelve years ago and there was much rejoicing in Ellesmeŕa. She had no doubt that when the child of Selena and Brom were born, the babe will be loved by the Varden for it will be the sibling of Murtagh and Eragon, the riders who brought the Varden their many victories.

As she thought of the baby, she felt slightly worried. If Eragon's family was anything to tell from, the new born child will no doubt be involved with fate as much as the older siblings. And to be born during a war was never heartening, especially for the parents. The baby had to be protected thought Arya. When word traveled that Selena finally gave birth, Galbatorix's spies amongst the Varden will no doubt try to use the baby as a bargaining chip. If it weren't for Desdemona, Finny, Rosalie, and Bard Selena would be an easy target for assassinations. And that would surely drive Eragon mad with grief.

He loved his mother so.

Her thoughts wandered to her own mother and she felt a slight pain enter her heart as always. Ever since their argument over her choosing Eragon as her mate, she and her mother once again were returning to their estranged relationship. They refused to concede to each other. She understood her mother. In elf years, Arya was still rather young barely having lived for a century. Her mother was only trying to protect her. When she was conceived, the celebrations in Ellesmeŕa lasted for days on end or so she was told. But then her father fell to Galbatorix and her mother took the throne after him. Pain and sorrow in humans was no comparison to the devastating grief that her mother felt. To lose her mate so soon after Arya was born was a cruel hand dealt by fate. One only had a child in Ellesmeŕa when they were certain of their love and their bond. Her parents were certain and yet, this was how they were repaid. But her mother's way to deal with grief was to devote herself to her work. When one could not deal with grief, one simply had to ignore it.

_It must have hurt losing father, _thought Arya as she nodded to Selena hearing his words. "Would you like to join us for supper?" asked Selena as Arya returned to herself. "I'll have Bard prepare something and do not worry there will be food for Eridor as well."

Hearing her words, Eridor made a satisfied sound. Arya nodded, "If it is not any trouble to have me."

"Never," said Selena kindly as Brom helped to guide her to sit on a comfortable bench. He left her to speak with Arya as he went to set up their tent. Taking a seat on the offered stool that Finny hastily gave her, she turned to Eragon's mother. She felt Selena studying her face intently, "You seem unhappy, Arya."

Arya averted her eyes. Usually she would end a conversation right there or take affront to such statements. However, this was a different situation. Selena was Eragon's mother and because of that Arya did not consider her a stranger. "It is nothing of the sort," said Arya softly, "I am just feeling tired."

"Nasuada has charged you to dispatch the soldiers that have been sent to attack us," said Selena in understanding. She had thought that would be the end of the conversation but Selena continued, "Do you miss Eragon?" Rosalie, who had come to join them, froze off to the side as she was preparing the fire. Eragon was blind to the woman's affections but she knew that Rosalie felt affectionately for him as well as Desdemona. Arya would be lying to say that it didn't bother her but she knew better. She understood Eragon's feelings well.

"I would be lying if I said I did not," said Arya as Selena smiled, she shifted slightly rubbing her back. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"Just a little," she admitted. Desdemona bound over and handed her a drink to ease the discomfort of carrying a baby. She thanked the haughty yet beautiful woman. "Eragon tends to do things on his own. He was always like that when he was a child. Stubborn in every little action, just like his father."

A slight tinge of curiosity flowed through Arya, "How was Eragon as a child?" he rarely talked about his childhood before Saphira was hatched and no else knew about his childhood apart from him and his mother. She wasn't doing anything at the moment and she would like to know.

"Eragon was a lonely child," said Selena with a faraway look as she stared at the campfire that Rosalie made. Arya caught sight of Bard approaching, holding an armful of ingredients to make dinner with. "When he was born, he was very bright always asking questions but as he became older something in him changed. I wasn't sure what it was but he grew quiet and he didn't say much anymore. I think it was because he believed that Brom had abandoned him. He spent much of his time studying, Galbatorix didn't want a potential rider to lack a decent education." So even Galbatorix understood the value of education. "At one point Eragon became obsessed with trying to learn history. He wanted to know the origin of everything because he himself he did not know his own. He didn't have friends his age and he rarely left the estate grounds. He followed me everywhere I went."

Arya didn't find that hard to believe. Eragon despite not admitting it, she knew how much he cared for his mother. That brought a memory to the forefront. She remembered a time when she was younger always following her mother about but there were times when she was cared for by the other members of her house. Her eyes traveled until they fell on Eridor's green scales. He was busy eating pastries that Bard had cooked up for him. Staring at the emerald color she was reminded of another lush, emerald hue that was just as beautiful.

_With great grace Arya jumped from branch to branch. She wasn't high up. She was still too young to try and climb seventy feet from the ground. Running along the branch, Arya glanced down at the ground before her seeing everything with such clarity that it felt like the world was glowing. Running from the branch she jumped easily landing on the branch before her. As the trees parted she found herself staring up at the bright blue sky above her. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. _

_It was beautiful thought Arya. _

_As she stood there staring at the sky, she turned when she heard the flapping of wings catching sight of a white raven flying in the opposite way. Before she could contemplate it, a musical voice called out to her. "Arya, would you like to come down and join me?" _

_She glanced down, standing twenty feet below her was her mother whom Arya bore a striking semblance to. Nodding, she easily climbed down landing gracefully on her feet. Arya was young, barely a decade old but yet she oftentimes wandered away from their family hall exploring much of the forest. Everything was curious to her. _

"_Supper is ready," she reached forward and gently dusted Arya's clothing. It was a simple gesture but it meant much to her all the same. _

Arya returned to the present staring at Selena as she continued speaking. Eragon loved his mother dearly and Arya understood that deep feeling. She, too, dearly loved her mother. She didn't know how to express it though. Through the century she'd been alive, the two of them spent little time together; just few days scattered throughout the many years. When she had made her decision to become the elven ambassador, the two of them argued heatedly for days on end about duty and the difference between wanton foolish and necessity. But there was one thing that they both hid in their fierce arguments: their love for each other. Her mother did not want to lose her and she did not want to lose her mother. If her parents had to sacrifice their life for their duty, she wasn't going to stand by idly. They were too proud.

After she'd dined with Brom and Selena, Arya retired back to her tent deep in thought. She thought about a multitude of things. Though she did not like the thought of Eragon flying so close to Urû'baen in order to make his way to Gil'ead, she was glad. He would be there to watch over her mother. Her mother was strong and powerful but she as well as the rest of her people had not been to battle in decades. Whatever were to happen, she only hoped for their well-being. And that her mother will be able to see what it was that Arya saw in Eragon.

_Be safe mother…Eragon…_

**And that is the end of the chapter. Thanks to all of you who've reviewed, you make my day. Hehehe you know I've been thinking of doing a bonus thing for every hundred reviews but I can't think of anything good to write. So I'll just continue to write the chapters and try to beautifully end this story because there's another Eragon project I want to start soon. Anyways I'll see you soon! Have fun reading! But don't stayed glued to the computer too long gotta get up and do something productive! **


	66. Chapter 62

Chapter 62

**We are returning to Eragon's point of view. You know I've been receiving reviews that I'm updating too fast. Do you all prefer if I take it slow? Like a chapter a week? (Though I think the majority are fine with the speed of my updates currently). I know it seems like I'm trying to rush in busting out these chapters but I've neglected this story and I have free time so I thought I would spend time writing this. Anyways to answer some question. What about Arya's personality? Well, Arya is a soft on several people including Eragon and Eridor. But you have to remember that she's sort of cemented her cold personality and will oftentimes come off as such. Also she can't use magic without words (I just didn't feel like actually looking up the words for her spell or writing it in :p) R&R! **

He tried to concentrate on the large book before him that was given to him by Brom before he left. The title of the book was _Domia abr Wyrda, _and when translated into the human tongue, it was called the Dominance of Fate. As he was reading, he felt his brow twitch as he heard meat being ripped. He continued onward. There was a squelch. Frowning, Eragon used all of his strength to ignore the sounds behind him. He continued reading the line. A loud snap startled him from his thoughts. He closed his book with a snap and turned to face Saphira as she was finishing off her fifth deer. She'd been flying swiftly for them to make it to Gil'ead in time before the siege started. In order to prepare, she'd been eating a great amount of food. Eragon being much stealthier than her had found several deer for her to eat. For the past hour or so, he'd been trying his best to read as she ate continuously making a great deal of noise behind him.

Ripping the flesh from the last of the deer she was eating, she blinked at him. _Distracted? _Saphira asked knowing full well that he was. Eragon sighed and made his way over the saddle. He had taken it off of Saphira so that she could eat without feeling restrained by the leather. Opening one of his bags, he placed the large book inside. It was an interesting book thought Eragon as he returned to his spot by Saphira who was now cleaning her teeth. Galbatorix had banned it in the Empire though. If one had a copy, one was branded a heretic. Most of the copies were burned but it seemed that a great deal had survived outside of the Empire. _Eragon, can you get me some fireweed? My stomach feels slightly heavy. _

_That's because you've gorged yourself on five fully grown deer, _said Eragon but he did as she asked. When he retrieved the fireweed he gave it to her to chew on to settle her stomach. He watched as she chewed on the fireweed and felt a rush of affection for Saphira. Smiling, he reached over and scratched her underneath her jaw tickling a sensitive spot. She twisted her head away.

_Stop that. It tickles, _said Saphira in an attempt to reprimand him. Eragon smiled doing as she asked. He resumed sitting once more letting Saphira chew in peace. He didn't want her to fly on an upset stomach to Gil'ead. He glanced up at the setting sun which caused a fiery hue to take place of the once blue sky. It had been four days since they'd departed from Farthen Dûr. Saphira being an apt flyer easily navigated the skies as they made their way to Gil'ead. It was odd to think that though Eragon did not consider the Empire his home that he recognized the places they flew over. Steering clear of Urû'baen, Saphira sacrificed a few hours in order for them to safely stay out of Galbatorix's reach. But something ate at Eragon. It was a thought that he'd been contemplating the last two days.

Galbatorix had enough power, he was sure, to easily put the rebellion to rest. He could've flown out from his castle with his black dragon and attacked them before dragging them back to his black city to get them to pledge their services to him. It could be thought Eragon that Galbatorix wanted to build up their hopes and later crush them. It was a way that he easily broke people. Eragon understood that better than anyone else. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he stared out into the distance. He could see the dark sight of Gil'ead a distance away. Islanzadí was there and he was sure that Oromis and Glaedr were as well.

He could feel Saphira's excitement at meeting their two masters and the opportunity for them to fight beside their teachers. Eragon was more worried than excited. Gil'ead was Galbatorix's military fortress to the north. He let the elves take Ceunon for it meant little to him but Gil'ead was an important fortress that he wasn't going to let go easily. The soldiers there had a different mindset as well for the man who lorded over the city was a devoted citizen of the Empire. Lord Cadmaran had a do-or-die stance. Eragon was uncertain of what Cadmaran had under his sleeves. He was as devoted a servant to Galbatorix as Jeremiah was. He blinked wondering if Cadmaran would even go as far as to set Gil'ead on flames in order to keep it out of the hands of the elves.

_Men like Cadmaran are dangerous on the battlefield, _thought Eragon. He felt Saphira's thoughts float through his head as he was trying to think of any drastic tactics that Cadmaran might take. His soldiers followed him with the same piety he devoted to Galbatorix. If he told them to jump off the walls of Gil'ead they would gladly do it. They reminded him of the religious cannibal cult in Dras-Leona. He detested the cult that revered the Ra'zac. They were a disgusting race and if Murtagh's account of his time at Helgrind was anything to go by, they were now extinct in Alagaësia unless that cult was harboring any more of them.

At the thought of the cult that resided in the black citadel in Dras-Leona he felt a chill run down his spine. He'd come into contact with the members once and was less than pleased to even be breathing the same air as them. All of their believes were distorted and they took pleasure in mutilating themselves. What was more was that they had a great distaste for dragon riders. They were forced to obey Galbatorix due to his command over the Ra'zac who they worshipped. Apart from their practices, Eragon knew little about the cult itself. When the time came for them to take the city of Dras-Leona he would be glad to set the citadel on flames. He never liked the dark structure.

_I'm done, _Saphira announced. He could feel through their link that she felt much better. Her stomach was settled. Eragon nodded, he stood and picked up the saddle. Making his way over to Saphira, he slid the saddle onto her and did the straps making sure that it wasn't too tight for her. Shaking her head slightly, Saphira let out a puff of air as she waited for him to climb on. Sliding his legs into the straps, he secured himself in the saddle. When he gave her the signal that he was secured, she launched forward into the air climbing higher into the fiery sky. _I can see the elf encampment in the distance. By nightfall we should reach them. _

He felt apprehension wash over him. It would be the first time he would meet Islanzadí after he and Arya became mates and what was more was that Arya had forged an unbreakable bond between them by binding their souls together. He was sure that the Islanzadí wasn't going to take the news lightly. Feeling slightly paranoid, Eragon sniffed himself. He still couldn't detect how he smelt differently. Saphira had claimed that he still had the lingering scent that was Arya mixed in with him. It was a sign that they had consummated their bond Saphira said. But so far it seemed like only the dragons could smell the change in his scent. Even Arya couldn't detect it. Perhaps Islanzadí had a sensitive sense of smell like Blödhgarm? Eragon knew without a doubt that the wolf-elf would be able to smell the change in his scent. He wondered if Arya had any qualms about smelling different despite how slight it was. He'd always loved how she smelled of spicy pine needles. It was a smell that was uniquely hers.

That night when they first came together, he remembered just lavishing his lips all over her skin because his mind was heady with her aroma. She never told him how he smelt but he knew that she wasn't repulsed by it.

_We are on the brink of battle and you are worrying about whether or not you smell decent for Arya, _said Saphira in disbelief as Eragon's slight panic washed over her. _I shall never understand why you two-legs always worry about such matters. _

_Of course you're not worried, _said Eragon in reply to her. _You're already beautiful as you are. _He felt her pleasure at his flattering words. She didn't tease him as much later as he thought long and hard on Arya's reactions to him when he was close to her. Apart from her affections and warmth he was sure she wasn't bothered by his smell. The thought of it irked him. He only remembered once when she'd commented on his smell. She had said that he smelt nice, more so than Blödhgarm. Then again, she said she was more partial to his scent. As Saphira flew, his thoughts trailed to the memory of her scrying him. He'd know she would do so when she learned of his decision to fly to Gil'ead.

Arya was not happy with his decision that much was clear.

He remembered how displeased she looked when he spoke to her about his decision. Her brows were slanted dangerously, her emerald eyes narrowed, and her expression was hard. It had been some time since he'd seen that expression of hers. He felt himself smile lightly, that was one of the reasons why he felt so drawn to her in the first place. As they flew, they passed Gil'ead. He stared at the dark city as they passed already feeling the heaviness of an upcoming battle settle over him. It would be the first time since he'd stepped into the city of Gil'ead since he let Murtagh and Arya escape. How would the citizens respond to him he wondered. They would no doubt curse his name as a traitor. That was what he was.

Saphira continued to fly as night blanketed them. Due to nightfall, he was able to make out the lights that were no doubt the lanterns that lit the elves' encampment. The more they flew; the elves' encampment became clearer. He could make out the orderly tents that were set up. He couldn't hear a single sound from the direction of the encampment meaning that they had no doubt set wards about the encampment. A little off to the side of the large encampment, he saw the large golden mass that was Glaedr.

_They have made it, _said Saphira. He nodded already feeling his anxiety return to him. He hated the feeling. Ever since he'd joined the Varden it seemed like his anxiety has grown by leaps and bounds. As they neared the encampment, he felt the strong presence of the elven army. The great amounts of energy that comprised of thousands of minds were enough to scare off any company of soldiers. He saw movement on the ground below them as Saphira circled above the encampment to make her presence known in order to avoid any unintentional attacks. After a few moments, she landed on the outskirts of the camp. Undoing the straps on his legs, Eragon slid from the saddle landing on his feet as a company of elves came out to greet him. They greeted him first with the traditional greetings that elves did and Eragon returned in kind speaking in the ancient language.

"Shadeslayer," one of the elves greeted him. He was dressed in fine silver armor with a sword at his hip and a bow and quiver slung on his back. Like most elves, the elf before him was tall and proud with dark hair and a fair face. "We had felt a strong presence approaching us and had questioned what it could be. Our worries were for not. Why brings you here?"

"I have come to assist in the siege for Gil'ead," answered Eragon. His answer surprised them. He could see something in their expression shift and saw a hint of approval at his decision. "It is only fair that there are two riders fighting for each front."

"A statement that is well said," the elf, Arthon said. He gestured towards the company of elves behind him. They nodded breaking away to return to their posts except for Arthon and a female elf. "Let me guide you and Saphira Brightscales to the command tent. Queen Islanzadí and the other commanders are discussing the last of our preparations. She will no doubt be pleased to see the two of you.

_One could only hope, _thought Eragon as he followed Arthon. They weaved in and out of the tents and Eragon felt a great peace amongst the elves. Even though they were all prepared for battle, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was a normal day like no other for them. They went about their business as if instead of sleeping in tents outside Gil'ead, they were back in their lush green forest. As they walked, the elves would bow and extend their greetings to him and Saphira. He could tell that Saphira was greatly enjoying the attention despite the fact that she was awed at often.

They continued their walking until they came to a beautiful white tent. Posted outside were two fair male elves, each wearing battle-worn armor and equipped with multiple weapons. In their hands they held spears and at their waist like every other elf was a sword. Their expressions were of surprise at the sight of Eragon and Saphira. Arthon stopped and greeted them.

"Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales have come to lend us their assistance," explained Arthon. One of the guards nodded and entered the tent to rely the message to Islanzadí. Eragon inwardly steeled himself. He was prepared to face the Queen. She may not accept him as Arya's mate but that didn't mean he was going to shirk from his duties. It was going to be difficult Eragon knew to work under Islanzadí but he needed to do this. A minute passed before the guard returned and nodded allowing Eragon to pass. Arthon took his leave then. Eragon murmured his farewell to the elf.

_I shall listen from the outside, _said Saphira as she settled in a comfortable position beside the white command tent. He nodded and pulled back the tent flap entering the tent. It was spacious inside. He saw a beautifully carved high chair towards the back of the tent before a dark wooden desk adorned with scrolls and texts. By the chair was a stand no doubt for the white raven, Blagden. In the center of the tent was a folding table where a large map was laid out on and surrounding the table were several individuals of importance including Queen Islanzadí, Oromis, and Lord Däthedr, who was a friend of Arya's. Hanging from the posts that structured the tent were several amber lanterns.

Knowing that they were watching him closely, Eragon walked forward staring straight at Queen Islanzadí. He couldn't afford to appear rude and ineloquent, as Arya often called him, for it would only cause Arya trouble. He did not want Arya to be on the receiving end of any criticism due to his behavior. Queen Islanzadí wore a bright corselet of golden scale armor, augmented with mail and greaves and a beautifully decorated helm—set with opals and other precious gemstones—that held back her flowing black tresses. A red cape trimmed with white billowed from her shoulders; it reminded Eragon of a looming storm front. At her waist was a beautiful sword that he had no doubt she was more than capable of wielding.

Eragon stopped short of the table. He touched his lips with his fingers, then twisted his right hand over his chest in the elves' gesture of loyalty and respect and recited the opening line of their tradition greeting, speaking first, as was proper when addressing one of higher rank. And if one were to think of it, Arya considered his family as her own oftentimes going out of her way to assist in matters that did not require her attention. Orik had called Arya the equivalent of his wife when they were in Farthen Dûr. That would mean that Queen Islanzadí was the equivalent of a mother-in-law. At the thought of it, he felt his anxiety suddenly return. Then Saphira sent him an image that stumped him for a few seconds. She was picturing him, Arya, Queen Islanzadí and the rest of his family eating at one table. If he lived long enough to see the end of the war, that was the next obstacle to overcome: family. Islanzadí made the expected response, and in an attempt to please her and hopefully shift his image in her eyes even by the slightest, Eragon concluded with the optional third line of the salutation: "And my peace live in your heart."

She regarded him for a moment and he could tell that she acknowledged his maneuver with a slight smile, "And yours as well, Shadeslayer." Her low, rich voice contained hints of rustling pine needles and gurgling brooks and music played on reed pipes. Her emerald eyes which reminded him greatly of Arya traveled to the tent flap. "Peace is difficult to come by these days. In but a few hours, we shall be storming the gates of Gil'ead."

"Has the fighting been heavy, Your Majesty?" asked Eragon after he completed the greeting for everyone assembled at the table. However, he only said the third phrase once more and that was when he was greeting Oromis. His master was dressed accordingly for battle. He was dressed similarly to Queen Islanzadí. Oromis wore a corselet of golden scale armor, as well as bracers upon his arms. A tall, diamond-shaped shield was slung on across his back, an archaic helm rested in the crook of his left arm, and around his waist was Naegling, his golden sword. There was a pause and he knew that Saphira was also greeting them mentally in order to properly show her respect. When she was done, Islanzadí spoke answering his question.

"It will be soon," said Islanzadí as she gazed upon him, "Now tell me Shadeslayer why are you here?"

Eragon glanced to the shadow of Saphira that was against the tent. Though it was a political move in of itself, he also had his personal reasons for flying out to Gil'ead, reasons that he would rather not say. "I came, Your Majesty, to fulfill my duty as a Dragon Rider," explained Eragon the ancient language flowing smoothly from his lips. "As the leader of the last free riders of Alagaësia I have a duty to stand at the forefront of battle."

"What of the Varden?" asked Queen Islanzadí waiting for him to acknowledge his loyalty by word of mouth. For a moment he was angered that she would not let the matter at rest but he knew that if the war was ever over, he had to learn to pick a position and stand by it. That was what made a good leader. Queen Islanzadí no matter how strict or imposing was a good leader as was Nasuada. And that was because they knew where they stood in life and before their people.

"I've spoke to Lady Nasuada and it was agreed that having three riders fight on the Varden's front was poor form when our allies are ready to take the military stronghold that is Gil'ead," said Eragon watching as Islanzadí nodded. "It is only fair that I fly out and join Your Majesty and assist in the siege of the city."

He could tell that they were pleased with his answer. "It pleases me to know that you understand your duties as a Dragon Rider well, Eragon Shur'tugal. You have taught him well Oromis." His master merely inclined his head. Islanzadí returned her gaze to him, Eragon could tell that there was something she wanted to say to him but refrained from doing so. "You have flown swiftly and have arrived in time for a review of our preparations. It is also prudent that you are aware of the situation before you fly into battle." Her eyes glanced at Däthedr, her advisor.

Däthedr spoke in his lilting voice, "We have divided our warriors in order to surround the city. Several elves will scale the walls and take control of the parapet in order to prevent any unwanted attacks from above. Once the gates are opened, the remaining warriors will be lead by Queen Islanzadí and fight underneath her command. In order to take the city, we must capture Lord Cadmaran."

"What of you Master Oromis?" asked Eragon as he stood behind the aged elf. His master raised a brow and spared Eragon a slight smile.

"Glaedr and I shall lend aid where we are needed," that would mean that he was fighting separately from the other elves. Eragon fought the frown that was making his way onto his face, if Queen Islanzadí ordered him to fight alongside her it would be hard for him to seek to protect Oromis.

"From what we've gathered," continued Däthedr, "Galbatorix has sent several magicians to reinforce the city. However, with our combined might they will have no chance of fulfilling his orders." Eragon could hear the underlying ruthlessness in the elf's voice. They were a determined and ruthless race thought Eragon. His encounters with them were proof of that enough and if Arya was anyone to go by, she was a prime example of an elf. They were the same thought Eragon as he stood with them not only in appearance but in mindset. He was born a human but he found that he often lacked the compassionate side that humans valued. It had died back in Galbatorix's dungeons only to be reborn with the time he'd spent outside of the Empire. However, in battle he was determined and ruthless. The only thing that mattered to him was his goal.

His eyes darted to Queen Islanzadí and he spoke, "What is it that you will have of me Your Majesty?"

She stared at him for a long moment, her dagger-shaped eyebrow slanted as if deep in thought. With that expression, she bore a striking resemblance to Arya, although her stature and bearing were even more impressive than her daughter's.

She lifted her chin, "This shall be the first time you will fight beside us Shur'tugal," her eyes darted to the map, "I have been told that you are well acquainted with the city of Gil'ead." Eragon nodded. She continued, "Then I shall have you and Saphira fly over the walls of the city and inflict as much chaos as you can to frighten them and we shall join and sweep aside our enemies in their disarray like dry leaves before a winter storm. I cannot leave command of my warriors and shall trust that you are capable of capturing Lord Cadmaran."

"As you say Your Majesty," murmured Eragon acknowledging her authority over him. She nodded, a sharp bird-like motion and continued to speak about the upcoming siege. Eragon stood there listening to her words and instructions. She truly was a leader thought Eragon. Nasuada had a talent in bringing together the masses and calling forth their loyalty and fealty. But Islanzadí was a figure for her people during battle and peace. She knew how to formulate battle plans, show equality, and her presence alone demanded the respect she deserved. Arya was unlike her mother and yet they were very similar like matched blades. When she was done Islanzadí and her advisors and generals took their leave to review some last preparations leaving only Eragon and Oromis in the command tent.

He turned to Oromis wondering why Glaedr was not present for the meeting, when he voiced his thoughts his master said, "He is resting and gathering his energy as we prepare to take Gil'ead. It shall not be a simple feat Eragon."

"That is why I came to join you," said Eragon. He glanced away as Oromis stared at him with a kind expression as if knowing full well his personal reasons for flying out to join the elves. He paused not sure if it was out of bounds to ask but seeing his expression, Oromis asked him to speak his mind. "How are you feeling Master Oromis to join in battle after so long?"

His expression became grave as he contemplated Eragon's words before slowly speaking, "For the past century I have not killed and the same for my people while we stow away in Du Weldenvarden, it saddens me to forsake the forest and have to take a life—lives—for the sake of peace. Gil'ead once was a beautiful city."

"Have you been to Gil'ead before?" asked Eragon. Oromis nodded.

"In my youth when Glaedr was but a young dragon like Saphira," explained Oromis. "It was once known by a different name than Gil'ead. My people lived here as well as our friends. However since Galbatorix's betrayal, his Forsworn have taken this city for their own and it was abandoned and later populated with the citizens of the Empire. Two of Glaedr's nest-mates were killed here by the Forsworn."

So that was the story thought Eragon. That would make sense. The history of Alagaësia started with the dragons. The land was built for them and then the god Helzvog made the stout and sturdy dwarves from the stone of the Hadarac Desert. Their races warred much and then the elves sailed to Alagaësia from across the silver sea. They too warred with the dragons. However they were strong than the dwarves and they would have destroyed the dragons, even as the dragons would have destroyed the elves. Then to ensure peace the survival of both of their races, a truce was sealed between the two races and the Dragon Riders were born, an order that kept the peace in Alagaësia for thousands of years. Following the elves were humans, Urgals, and then the Ra'zac. After much thought humans also joined the pact with the dragons.

"Retaking this city will be our answer to them for letting Galbatorix wrought such horrors on this land," said Oromis sadly. Eragon wanted to say something as he saw the aged grief on Oromis's face. It lasted for barely a second before it disappeared. "You must rest Eragon for soon after you shall be called upon to fight a people who were once yours."

"I shall like to speak with him before he leaves," the tent flap was pushed aside once more and Islanzadí returned, this time alone. Oromis stared at him once more before taking his leave. Eragon was silent as he watched Islanzadí move about the command tent with as much grace as if she was gliding. He would even go to say that she was more graceful than Arya.

_What do you think she could possibly want to speak to me about Saphira? _Asked Eragon. No reply came. He blinked his eyes darting to the side of the tent surprised that her shadow was not there. Catching his stare, Islanzadí spoke, "I asked Saphira if I may speak to you alone Eragon Shadeslayer."

The tone of her voice made his wait on edge. She moved about for a moment before turning to him with an expression that resembled Arya so much that he was momentarily stunned. He felt as if he was in this situation before. "I see you have new swords," observed Islanzadí her eyes moving between Brisingr and Vrangr. He nodded, she stretched out her hand. "May I?"

Trusting that Islanzadí was not going to attack him, he handed her Brisingr watching as she slid the blade from its sheath to study it. When she inquired to the name of his sword, he told her but in a roundabout way knowing that if he spoke the sword's name it would light up in her hand. And he was not sure if she would take to such an unintentional action lightly. After a few more seconds, she sheathed Brisingr and returned it to Eragon. "It is a beautiful blade," said Islanzadí as Eragon handed her Vrangr. She studied the second sword, "May I ask how these were forged?"

He nodded explaining to her how Rhunön had circumvent her oath to make him both swords. He told her how he made Brisingr and when he spoke about Vrangr, he hesitated slightly. When she heard that Arya had forged the sword for him, there was a change of emotion in Islanzadí's countenance. She stared at the sword with hard eyes. The queen was struggling with something he could tell. And for the first time since that night, she truly looked tired. Staring at Queen Islanzadí he felt like he understood how he and his father appeared to others; each of them struggling with their own decisions in life.

After a long moment she returned Vrangr to Eragon the moment the sword made contact with his hands, the blade pulsed to life proof that he and Arya were soul bonded. He sheathed the sword waiting for Islanzadí to speak. "Arya has told me that she chose you as her mate," said Islanzadí quietly. Eragon realized that she was no longer speaking to him as the queen of her people but rather as the mother of the woman he loved.

"We are mates," said Eragon reasserting the fact. He wanted to resolve this matter with Islanzadí before they went to battle so that the both of them weren't burdened with this matter. She was trying to protect Arya, he knew that much. Islanzadí was only doing what any mother would do, she was holding Arya's best interests at heart. But Arya had an independent side to her. He knew that well enough.

Islanzadí stared at him for a long moment drawing herself upright, "You are much different from when you left Ellesmeŕa, Eragon Shadeslayer."

"In mind and in body," said Eragon letting the truth of his words wash over Islanzadí. "Arya has cured me of my _illness_." Islanzadí looked at him sharply as if this was the first time she'd heard of such things. That was odd thought Eragon. He had thought Oromis would tell her of what had happened. Either way… "When the spirit took over my body, Arya was there to bring me back to myself and reunite both halves of my soul. She made the ultimate sacrifice on my behalf."

Islanzadí did not speak but waited for him to continue. The silence in the tent loomed over them. He felt the faint emotions that belonged to Arya within him, so faint that he could barely feel it but she was there. He continued, "Arya used her soul as a bridge between mine." He heard an intake of air from Islanzadí and she looked weak from the news. He wanted to do something but he was not sure if any actions from him would come off as offensive. "Arya is part of me Your Majesty."

Queen Islanzadí was silent as she turned away from him. They were silent no one saying a thing. Eragon wished that Arya was there so they could somehow show to Queen Islanzadí the extent of their feelings. If Islanzadí was upset at hearing them becoming mates, he wasn't sure how to describe the emotions that were raging inside the elf queen. He tried to imagine how he would feel if he had a daughter who used her soul for some boy that she claimed to love. He grudgingly admitted that he would no doubt beat that boy within an inch of his life.

"If something happens to you what will become of Arya?" asked Islanzadí her voice sounding far off and strained.

Eragon paused. He'd thought of that. If he died, would Arya remain unharmed? He had a part of her soul bound with his. If he died, that part of her died with him. The thought of it made his heart tightened. "She will not die," promised Eragon, the fact that he could say it in the ancient language surprised him for he was sure enough of her future that he could say it with the ancient words. "Nothing will become of Arya, I will protect her."

Islanzadí turned to him and the part of Arya that was within him felt a longing warmth for her mother. So this was how she felt whenever she thought of her mother thought Eragon sadly. "I am not asking for you to accept our union if your are against it," said Eragon seriously holding his ground, "But I ask that you do not let our union distance you and Arya. Please listen to my request, not as a Shadeslayer or Shur'tugal but as the man who truly loves your daughter."

He saw Islanzadí's hands clench and unclench as if she wanted to break something. She took a deep breath and turned to him. Then with great strength she spoke, her emerald eyes blazing, "Then I shall say this to the man who loves my daughter, use that sword she forged for you not to protect your life but to protect hers."

Eragon's reply was certain, "I never intended it to be any other way."

**First off this was a difficult chapter to write. Because the elves are a capricious race I had a hard time trying to capture the essence of their people. There isn't much of Islanzadi for me to accurately capture her character but I'm extrapolating as best as I can. Also, there was a question about my other Eragon project that I wanted to attempt after this. I'm thinking of writing a spin-off to this story in which Eragon time travels back to the beginning of the fall of the Dragon Riders. It's been a story that I've been thinking of often and never got around to actually writing. Anyways everyone, let'see each other soon! Let's try to make this story the top for the Inheritance Section! Side Note: anyone gone to an amusement park yet? Wizarding World of Harry Potter here I come! **


	67. Chapter 63

Chapter 63

**Well here it is everyone. Here it is. Like always I don't own Eragon but it's all in my head this story. To answer some questions in the reviews. Will I do a Harry Potter Fanfic? I always played around with the thought of Harry having a twin and not being BWL (when in fact he is but everyone mistaken his twin for BWL) But I have no motivation to write it because HG got their happy ending and I'm awed and happy with the way the HP series worked out. This story takes top priority now. Anyways, have fun reading! R&R **

_Hold still Thorn, _ordered Arya as she reached up to fix the neck piece that covered the ruby dragon. An incompetent person had placed the armor piece at an angle and as a consequence, every time Thorn moved his neck it would rub uncomfortably at his scales. Keeping still as she asked, Arya shifted the neck piece up to loosen the metal before rotating it and sliding the armor into place. _Better? _

_Much, _Thorn answered her, his deep voice rumbling in her mind. He moved his neck back and forth seemingly comfortable with the repositioning of the neck armor. _Thank you Arya. _

_Of course, _it was the least she could do for the ruby dragon before the siege of Feinster. She heard footsteps approach her as well as the sound of hooves hitting the ground. She turned and saw Bard making his way towards her garbed in steel armor a helm tucked in the crook of his right arm. In his left hand were the reins to his noble, white stallion that followed behind him. At his hip, she saw a sword and dagger. He looked like the commander he was thought Arya as Bard approached her.

"We'll attack at your signal Arya," said Bard seriously. That was right, she and Murtagh were to fly over the walls of the city and open up the gates from within. Once the gates were opened, Bard and Jörmundur were to lead the Varden's forces into the city and attack the soldiers stationed there. Then while they were occupied fighting with the empire's men, Arya and Murtagh had to find and capture Lady Lorana.

Arya nodded to Bard at his words, "Let us fight swiftly Bard."

He spared her a slight grin as if her words were the best words of encouragement he ever had the opportunity to hear. He saluted to her, "May you bring us glory Arya Dröttningu!" she felt a faint twinge of amusement rise up in her as she watched Bard lead his stallion away to move to the forefront. When the sun set, they were going to attack the city. Battles were much easier fought in the coolness of night than the heat of day.

_Are you nervous? _

Eridor came to a stop beside her, garbed in dragon armor. She stared up at him a feeling of pride surged through her at how ferocious of a dragon he looked. Arya laid a hand against the side of his snout watching as he blinked. "Nervous?" repeated Arya with a soft scoff, "While you are by my side, there is no need for me to be nervous."

His tail twitched in response to her words and to show his affections, Eridor breathed a warm breath of air against her hair and licked her on the side of her face. They stood together waiting for night to fall. Her eyes traveled to the city walls and the lanterns that ranged along the parapet. Tonight, the Varden was going to lay siege on Feinster and the elven army was going to lay siege on Gil'ead. At the thought of the siege that was going to take place at Gil'ead, her thoughts wandered to Eragon. Earlier in the day, she contacted him to simply talk to him before they each carried out their duties. He was dressed in the handsome armor that the dwarves gifted him and wore the beautiful helm that Rhunön crafted for him. Seeing him garbed for battle made her heart ache. They weren't going to be able to cover for each other anymore. It worried her. Eragon was a dual wielder and as such he never took his own protection seriously opting for aggression over protection. Not only that but he became a reckless warrior in battle. It was in his natural.

"_Is something wrong?" Arya blinked as she stared at him from her basin. Unlike last time, she could not bring herself to argue with Eragon. She couldn't get rid of the choking feeling that she felt. It made it hard for her to speak. When she didn't answer him, Eragon smiled slightly, "Can it be that you are worried for me?" _

_She fought the urge to roll her eyes, "You do not appear worried," observed Arya as she stared at him. He shrugged. _

"_I have Saphira here by my side," said Eragon as if that explained enough, his expression grew serious. "I also have two rider's blades to fight with." She nodded but the anxious feeling in her chest never left. Eragon had a way of getting himself in the worst of troubles. She was also worried about how he was going to fare around the blood thirst that battle brought. Her hands clenched the edge of her table, splitting the wood. _

"_Once you are done with your obligations at Gil'ead," began Arya watching as his brown eyes softened. He nodded with a smile. _

"_I shall make haste to return to your side," promised Eragon. His eyes flickered to the side as if someone had called to him. He turned back to her, "We are needed elsewhere Arya. Let us bring victory to our allies." _

_Before he could leave, she called out to him, "Eragon!" he turned to her worried as to what it could be. After struggling with herself, Arya spoke in a quiet voice, "My mother…" she couldn't find it within herself to ask of him such a selfish request. But he merely nodded. _

"_I shall watch over her. Do not worry Arya." _

Eridor nudged her; she turned to the green dragon. _Murtagh and the others have arrived. _With his head, he gestured a few yards away. Indeed, Murtagh was approaching with Blödhgarm and Wyrden. Murtagh and Wyrden were garbed for battle wearing fine armor while Blödhgarm had forgone armor, comfortable with what he was already wearing.

"Night has fallen," said Murtagh. Her eyes stared up. The last rays of the sun had vanished to leave behind the beginnings of darkness. The time has come thought Arya. She climbed onto Eridor as Wyrden climbed up behind her gripping her about the waist. They were to move swiftly and open the gates for the others. Arya's eyes caught Murtagh's blue ones. He nodded to her once.

_Let us fly Eridor, _she spoke to the emerald dragon. Letting out a deafening roar, Eridor jumped upwards unfurling his wings to climb. Instantly at his roar, she heard shouts coming from the direction of the parapet. Angling towards the city, Eridor flew towards Feinster with Thorn flying beside them. When they were in range of the archers on the parapet, a barrage of arrows flew at them ready to shoot them out of the sky. Ready to handle the arrows, Arya lowered her hand as Murtagh shouted a spell in the ancient language, his palm glowing ruby red.

The arrows were suspended and frozen as if time had stopped for them. There was a ripple in the air as each arrow was turned about. Then as if each were notched and released from a bow, the arrows tore through the air returning to the archers that released them with double the speed. In the dim light of the lanterns that lined the walls, she could see many bodies fall towards the ground pierced to death by the arrows. Below them, the Varden let out a cheer at the sight of their fallen enemies.

Swooping low over the outer city walls, Eridor roared once more and lashed out with his claws and tail, knocking groups of screaming men off the parapet and toward the hard ground eighty feet below. What an unpleasant death thought Arya grimly. She reached out for Murtagh's mind. He immediately opened himself up to her.

_We must land by the city gates before the soldiers use this moment to attack the forces standing by, _said Arya.

_Of course. _

Angling to the side, Eridor flew towards the city gates and over the brick buildings that made up the bulk of Feinster. They didn't stop to deal with every arrow or projectile that flew towards them letting them either miss or bounce off of their wards. She spotted the forty foot gates of the city. _Land Eridor. _

At her words, Eridor dipped forward and landed on the concrete of the city with a dull thud. A second thud followed as Thorn landed beside them. Quickly undoing her straps, she slid from the saddle landing elegantly on her feet beside Wyrden as Murtagh straightened from his position on the ground. When he landed, the weight of his armor had driven him to one knee. Her blood flowing hot as she was now in enemy territory, every sense of Arya's was on alert. Her ears picked up on the rapid flow of the ancient language. She turned in the direction of the voices. Standing before the gates were three magicians dressed in dark robes, two men and one woman. They were chanting in the ancient language and swaying from side to side with upheld arms.

Beside her Wyrden strung an arrow about to dispatch of them before a commotion from the guard towers drew their attention. Rushing out from them towards Arya and her company were fifty soldiers in gleaming armor. The sound of their approach alerted the deeply concentrated magicians of their presence. Finally seeing Arya and the others, they turned on their heels and fled, their robes flapping behind them. The arrow that Wyrden notched was released slicing through the air towards the last of the fleeing magician. The flight path of the arrow was accurate as it would have pierced the magician directly in the heart, but as it reached the man the air was deflected flying off to the side stopped by the magician's wards. She frowned, she wanted to give chase but they had a task to complete.

The company of fifty soldiers positioned themselves in front of the huge wooden doors. Without hesitation, Arya withdrew Támerlein from its sheath. The emerald blade was beautiful in the gleaming moonlight. If they would not move than she would simply make them move. Behind her, she heard Eridor's growl as he agreed with her train of thoughts.

One of the soldiers pounded the hilt of his sword against his shield and shouted, "Never shall you pass, foul demons! This is our home, and we shall not allow Urgals and elves and other inhuman monsters to enter! Begone, for you shall find nothing but blood and sorrow in Feinster!"

Arya turned to the guard towers and murmured to Blödhgarm and Wyrden, "The gears for opening the gates are hidden within there. Sneak around the men and slip into the towers. We have not the luxury of time to delay and leave the Varden waiting for us."

Blödhgarm nodded, his yellow eyes glowing as he and Wyrden disappeared into the pools of inky shadows that surrounded the houses behind Arya, Murtagh, and the dragons. She was about to spring forward to engage the soldiers with Eridor gathering his strength to join her. Before she could act, Murtagh shook his head. Her eyes narrowed as Murtagh slowly walked toward the soldiers, holding his sword and shield out to either side. An arrow shot toward him from above, stopping dead at his wards only to fall to the ground. He raised his voice and said, "My name is Murtagh! Perhaps you have heard of me, and perhaps not. In either case, know this: I am a Dragon Rider, and I have sworn to help the Varden remove Galbatorix from his throne. Tell me, have any of you sworn fealty in the ancient language to Galbatorix or the Empire?...Well, have you?"

Arya felt a wave of exasperation hit her. This was war not peacemaking. The soldiers before them had already made it clear that they were not going to yield. Had they wanted to, they could have done so a few days earlier when Nasuada had sent an envoy to the city gates offering them to surrender and lay down their weapons. They had denied it then and shall deny it now. Talking will only delay the inevitable.

The captain of the soldiers said, "We may not have pledged ourselves to the king, but Lady Lorana has. What will you do to her, then? Kill her? Imprison her? No, we will not betray our trust and allow you to pass, nor the monster clawing our walls. You and the Varden hold nothing but the promise of death for those who have been forced to serve the Empire."

And so it was thought Arya. She readied her sword as Murtagh tried in a last attempt for them to lay down their weapons and surrender. "I do not wish to kill you, but my companions and I will if we must. Lay down your weapons!"

Blödhgarm silently opened the door at the bottom of the leftmost guard tower and slipped inside. Without making a sound, Wyrden crept behind the soldiers toward the other tower. If any of the men had turned around they would have seen him.

The captain of the soldiers spat on the ground by Murtagh's feet. Arya frowned. How distasteful. "You don't even look human yourself! You're a traitor to your race you are!" And with that, the man raised his shield and hefted his sword and slowly walked towards Murtagh. What did he hope to gain by doing that? If he was going to attack and die valiantly, he might as well have charged with all of his strength. Without any effort, Murtagh stabbed Zar'roc through the captain's shield and through his chest and back. The man convulsed once and was still. As Murtagh pulled Zar'roc free of the body, there was a discordant clamor from within the guard towers as gears and chains began to turn and the massive beams that held closed the city gates began to withdraw.

"Enough of this Murtagh! They will not yield!" Arya said to him as she rushed past.

Bellowing in unison, twenty soldiers ran towards them, brandishing their swords. The others either dispersed and fled inward the city or else took Murtagh's advice and placed their weapons on the paving stones and knelt by the side of the street, defeated.

She heard the combined roars of the dragons as they sprung forward having done enough waiting and talking. Not deterred by the spray of blood on her armor, she danced from one enemy soldier to the next faster than they could react as the dragons crushed and burned to death their attackers. When she spun backwards to let Murtagh leap forward, she felt out of place often used to seeing Eragon's brute attack follow her more graceful ones. Instead Murtagh finished off his enemies with swift and elegant moves with the use of Zar'roc. The red blood was difficult to make out on his ruby blade. There was a difference in their fighting style she thought as she watched Murtagh slide to a stop slicing the last soldier cleanly in half. His first half tumbled to the ground followed by the second half. They weren't clean about their fighting though thought Arya feeling a faint trickle of amusement.

Wyrden and Blödhgarm emerged from the guard towers just as the gates groaned and swung outward. From above she heard the cries of dismay from the archers as they retreated to a more defensible position. She needed to give Bard the signal. Bard had stationed the Varden's forces a safe distance away from the gates to avoid the archers and was waiting for her. Arching Támerlein into the sky, she said in a strong voice, "Garjzla!" a bright ball of emerald light flew up into the air. It was a beacon of light in the dark sky.

A second passed and then she heard the loud roar of the Varden as well as the pounding of feet and hooves. A few minutes passed before the gates were thrown open by magic and Bard rode in, the Varden's warriors pouring in behind him. The Varden rushed forward, streaming into the city, their jangling armor and pounding boots creating a continuous rolling thunder.

"Good hunting Arya!" yelled Bard as he rode by her with an excited smile. Battles gave him a sense of freedom observed Arya as he pulled his stallion to a stop to call out to the Varden. "My men, follow me! The others go to your assigned positions and carry out Jörmundur's orders!" There was a yell of enthusiasm to his orders. He nudged his horse in its side with his armored feet and rode off towards the center of the city. Breaking away from the Varden was a group of men whom she recognized as the soldiers who deserted the Empire to join ranks with the Varden in order to follow Eragon. Standing by Murtagh as their warriors rushed in, she saw Roran in the mist of the ranks. Murtagh hailed him and Roran raised his hammer in greeting and ran towards them.

Ignoring their moment of conversation, she wiped clean Támerlein as she did so, her hand trembled slightly and she was surprised to find a great amount of blood covering her slim fingers. She blinked. The blood was gone. _What was that? _Closing her eyes, she shook herself. She couldn't be hallucinating now. They were in the midst of battle. Glancing up, she saw the ten other elves whom her mother had assigned to protect Murtagh and Thorn sprint out of the column of men and surround them. Wyrden and Blödhgarm rejoined them as well.

"Murtagh," she turned to him disrupting his conversation with Roran, "We have to fight our way up to the keep. Bard and his men are attempting to break through and capture Lady Lorana, we must give them our assistance. As much as you want to speak with Roran, that is for another time."

He looked contrite as her words sunk in. He nodded, "Yes, you're right," he turned back to his cousin, "Take care of yourself. Don't be too reckless."

Roran clapped him on the back, then said "Watch yourself, eh?" With that said he trotted after the others from his village. Moving away from Murtagh, Arya climbed onto Eridor. The streets were too close from his large mass to move between. They were going to have to fly about and make their way to the keep where Bard was fighting. She had no doubt that he could handle himself seeing as he was a talented strategist but she was worried about the magicians that had fled earlier. They did not seem like they were part of Feinster which could only mean that they were Galbatorix's servants. She turned to Murtagh.

"We will meet you at the keep," said Arya. Without waiting for his reply, Eridor jumped onto the stairs leading to the top of the city walls and climbed onto the wide parapet where he could take off without harming the Varden's forces. She had no doubt that Murtagh was going to be distracted helping the Varden whenever they were in a tight spot. While he took care of their forces, she was going to help Bard push forward into the city. It would appear that the greater bulk of the forces in Feinster were deeper in the city.

As Eridor flew above the buildings, she searched for the presence of the magicians earlier. But she couldn't find them. Their absence from battle made her cautious. They were not outright trying to protect the soldiers that were fighting in the streets with the forces of the Varden.

_It could be that they have withdrawn to the keep in order to protect it, _said Eridor as he landed momentarily on a brick house, staring at the streets bellow them like a stone gargoyle. Then as if to boost the motivation of the troops, he let out a bellowing roar only to be met with cheers from the Varden once more. He was as good as raising motivation as Nasuada was thought Arya as she stared out at the battles bellow her.

_Still I feel uneasy, _said Arya as her eyes wandered to the keep. It was an imposing structured. It was tall and square and adorned with numerous towers of differing height. The roof was made of slate, so attackers could not set it on fire. In the front of the keep was a large courtyard—in which were several low outbuildings and a row of four catapults—and encircling the lot was a thick curtain wall interspersed with smaller towers of its own. She saw hundreds of soldiers teemed within the courtyard. The only way to enter the courtyard on the ground was through a wide, arched passageway in the curtain wall, which was closed odd by both an iron portcullis and a set of thick oaken doors.

She glanced down and saw several thousand of the Varden waiting in the main street before the curtain as one person pressed against the wall. She made a good guess as to who that person was. _We must assist them in opening the gates, _said Arya, pointing. Eridor rose to the air once more and flew towards the gate as Thorn flew past landing on the parapet above the portcullis and clearing the soldiers off of it.

_Thorn and I shall take care of the catapults inside, _said Eridor as he landed beside the fearsome ruby dragon. They made the parapet look like a dragon perch thought Arya as she slid from the saddle. She easily ran down Eridor's tall which was draped over the wall of the parapet for her. The eighty foot wall was too high for her to safely jump down. When she reached the tip, she jumped the last twenty feet and landed clean on her feet amongst the Varden. Beside her Murtagh rolled to a landing.

"How is he faring?" asked Arya to Bard as he waited atop his stallion studying Finny's unsuccessful attempts to break open the steel gates.

"The gates are reinforced with many spells, Finny won't be able to break it with brute strength alone," said Bard with a frown. He glanced at her, "If it's not too much to ask, will you take care of the gate for us?" She nodded.

"Clear some space in case I need to use magic," she instructed Bard as she walked forward. He held up his right arm in a fist gathering everyone's attention.

"Back away! Give her room!" he ordered. The Varden backed away as Arya approached Finny who was bent over, his hands on his knees gasping from his exertion. She glanced at the gate. It was protected by spells that was impervious to the boy's strength however.

"Murtagh, let me see Zar'roc," said Arya as he came up to stand by her his guards following him. He gave her a curious stare but did as she asked. She turned to Finny and held the red sword out to him. He took it in his hand in surprise. Then she handed him Támerlein. Holding both of their blades, he waited for her orders.

"Use these sword to break through the wards," said Arya. She watched Finny nod. She wasn't sure how experience of a swordsman he was seeing as he only used his body to fight in battle. Running forward, he let out a shout as he began to slice away at the metal of the portcullis. After a minute, he had managed to cut away a great deal of the grating. It was wide enough for a column of warriors to file through. He then proceeded to slice the wooden beam that barred the door from the inside in half reducing the resistance that kept the gate closed. When it appeared that he was done, Arya walked forward towards the now exhausted Finny. There was no doubt that the swords drew upon his strength in order to counter the magic of the wards on the oaken doors. Panting for exhaustion he returned the blades to their rightful owner.

"It's done Arya," panted Finny sweating profusely from the exertion of it. Feeling rather guilty that he looked so worn down, she was about to offer him some of the energy stored in the emerald of Támerlein but Murtagh instead channeled energy to Finny from the ring on his finger, Aren. Within a few seconds, Finny was restored to his original strength. Then before any of them could do anything, the doors swung open revealing Thorn and Eridor waiting for them in the empty courtyard littered with bodies and broken catapults.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Bard shouted as his stallion reared, he pointed his sword forward, "Capture or kill every soldier in there until they surrender Feinster to us!" with that said, he charged forward, the Varden following behind, brandishing their swords, spears, and shields with battle-cries. Now that they were in the keep, it would take but a few more hours of fighting before the city was successfully theirs.

Standing by Eridor, a strange feeling came over her. She felt the part of Eragon that was within her pulse violently, causing her body to shake. Her head pounding with an unknown headache, she reached up with her left hand to rub her temple. The charging Varden before her began to shift and change. Instead she saw something else.

_Fire was everywhere. The destruction was not limited to the streets but it spread throughout the entire city like a rampant disease destroying everything it came in contact with. Standing to the side, she saw a group of elves run past garbed in silver armor. With great grace and strength that was bestowed to her people, they easily cut down the foes before them. The right corner of a building down the street was blown apart by a violet flash of magic and the burnt corpse of a magician fell from the third story splattering against the ground. _

_There were the roars of dragons that accompanied the violent music that was created through war. The cries of pain, the shouts of fear, the sound of metal meeting metal, and the pure sound of destruction mixed into one to create an atmosphere that was filled with chaos. _

_Suddenly a bright light appeared in the smoke of the battle, dressed in golden armor and riding a proud stallion was Queen Islanzadí, her mother. Blood was drenched on her hands, as she proudly rode through the streets her guards following her. Her demeanor was fierce as she spoke in the ancient language to her warriors. She turned to Arya and she felt her worry for her mother surge within her at the sight of her. _

_Just then from above, she heard the roar of a monster. Her eyes turned upwards to find the imitation of a dragon that Galbatorix had created fly over head. It was different—bigger. Its roar reminded her of a painful howl and gurgle of blood. It made her skin itch. _

"_You shall never take Gil'ead alive!" _

She straightened as she returned to herself. Glanced down at her hand, she saw that there was once more blood coating her fingers but when she blinked it was gone. Whatever was happening to her, she wasn't sure if Eragon felt it either. Their connection was drawing them towards each other and in this situation, it was dangerous to lose control of their consciousness.

"Arya are you alright?" asked Murtagh in concern. He stood before her, Zar'roc drawn in his hand. She nodded. Now was not the time to be distracted. She glanced up at the keep. She could see Bard jumping off of his stallion gathering a part of his forces with him to enter the keep from the bottom.

"We should enter the keep from above and try to capture Lady Lorana as Bard tries to capture her from the ground," said Arya. It looked as if Murtagh was still concerned about her but he didn't protect instead he climbed onto Saphira. Springing from the ground onto one of Eridor's front legs, Eragon climbed into his saddle.

_Was that what Eragon was seeing? _Asked Eridor as he took flight. Arya's eyes darted to Blödhgarm and the others, the twelve elves were glaring at Murtagh and Thorn in frustration. It was only natural, it was natural for them for they had an obligation to guard Murtagh. As they flew, her eyes caught sight of Murtagh slumping over in his saddle. Had it not been for the straps, he would've fallen to his death. Had something happened?

She reached out to Thorn, _what is wrong with Murtagh? _

_He is seeing through Master Glaedr's eyes, _answered Thorn surprising her. When she saw the world through Eragon's eyes was that happening to Murtagh as well? She wanted to ask more but to do so in the middle of battle was not appropriate. It was but a few seconds before Murtagh came to himself. Eridor alighted on the spire of the tallest tower and she climbed down stepping to the side on the steep roof as Thorn landed in the spot where Eridor did to let Murtagh climb off. Lowering themselves onto the narrow stone ledge below, Arya easily ran along the edge with perfect balance to a window which she easily slipped through. Behind her Murtagh was slowing inching along, not glancing at the ground below. They dragons were going to circle about to try to find a way to land inside. Inspecting the room, she blinked as her vision began to shift. Inside the room, she saw the ghostly phantom of a street and flames. Shaking her head, she stared about the room once more finding that it had returned to normal.

Her connection with Eragon was causing what they were seeing to overlap. Feeling his adrenaline run through her, she took in a deep breath. Their distance was making their connection unstable it seemed. If she didn't end the battle here soon, Eragon was going to be put in danger for their connection disoriented them. Murtagh nudged her and pointed to the stairs at the far corner. The two of them quietly inched forward unsure of what awaited them.

As she followed Murtagh, she sensed a strange confluence of energies below them and the mind of five people whose thoughts were closed off to her. She was certain that of the five, three of them were the magicians she'd seen earlier. As they walked, she felt the part of Eragon within her flare once more this time stronger. Stumbling against the wall, she caught herself as she stared up into the eyes of Jeremiah. She blinked and he was gone just like all the other images she'd seen earlier. Was he fighting him?

"Arya are you feeling well?" asked Murtagh once more, having stopped because of her. She nodded waving him on. He hesitated but continued. She followed him. Together, they descended the stairs, making every effort to be quiet. The next room in the tower was much larger than the last; the ceiling was over thirty feet high. In the center of the room stood the three magicians Arya has glimpsed earlier. Her lips thinned as she took in their formation. They stood in a triangle, their hoods thrown back, as they swayed their arms outstretched so their fingertips touched each other's as their weaved a spell that she was unfamiliar with and it irked her. A fourth person sat in the center of their triangle garbed in an identical fashion but he did not join in the spell with the rest of them. She reached out to touch one of their minds to find that it was entirely closed off. She was apt at using her mind to attack others but was surprised to find that the magician she reached out to seemed oblivious to her attack. Galbatorix had trained them well. She frowned and whispered to Murtagh, "They were trained well."

"Do you know what they are doing?" he murmured. She shook her head feeling uneasy that she did not know.

Then the woman in the lavender dress looked up and saw Murtagh and Arya crouched on the stone stairs. She did not call for help but rather placed a finger upon her lips, then beckoned. Arya stared at her contemplating what it could be that she was doing. She thought of what Eragon had told her earlier that day.

_Lady Lorana is unlike Galbatorix, if it is apparent that she cannot win she will not sacrifice the lives of her people needlessly. She is a fair person, one of the very few that I believe is competent enough to rule a city. _

"Let us go and greet our host," said Arya. They padded down the remaining stairs and snuck across the room, never taking their eyes off the engrossed magicians. "Are you Lady Lorana?" asked Arya in a soft voice as they halted before the seated woman. She did not want to frighten her.

The woman inclined her head. "That I am, fair elf." She turned her gaze upon Murtagh, "And are you the Dragon Rider of whom had abandoned the Empire? Are you Eragon Shadeslayer?" At the mention of his half-brother Murtagh and Arya exchanged glances, Murtagh shook his head.

"I am Murtagh, his half-brother," her face fell slightly, "I had hoped he would come for he would be able to stop them." She gestured to the magicians.

"Why is it that you need Eragon?" asked Arya with a frown. "Why do you not order them to surrender?"

"I cannot," said Lorana. "They answer only to the king. I have sworn myself to Galbatorix—I had no choice in the matter—so I cannot raise a hand against him or his servants; otherwise, I would have arranged their destruction myself."

"Why?" asked Arya her eyes darting to the ritual, "What is it you fear so much?"

The skin around Lorana's eyes tightened. "They know they cannot hope to drive off the Varden as they are, and Galbatorix has not sent reinforcements to our aid. So they are attempting, I do not know how, to create a Shade in the hope that the monster will turn against the Varden and spread sorrow and confusion throughout your ranks."

"But a Shade might just as easily turn against them and everyone else in Feinster as it would against the Varden," argued Murtagh.

Lorana nodded, "They do not care. They only wish to cause as much pain and destruction as they cane before they die. They are insane, Rider. Please, you must stop them, for the sake of my people!" Outside, she heard the loud roars of Eridor and Thorn as they landed upon the balcony outside. Only Thorn knocked aside the shutters with a single blow and pushed his head inside. The magicians did not take notice of the dragons and continued onward. Arya glanced at Murtagh drawing Támerlein to approach the four. He drew Zar'roc and started towards the triangle. But as he walked, she saw him falter before collapsing to the ground.

"Murtagh!" moving to his side, she knelt by him lowering Támerlein to the ground, she hated leaving the magicians to continue their incantation but she needed to know how Murtagh was faring. She shook him but he was unresponsive. _Why of all times? _

Taking in a deep breath, Arya reached out to Murtagh with her mind. The moment she touched his unguarded thoughts she found herself staring at the battle field of Gil'ead the city burning with embers of flames as the elves fought to gain control of the military fortress. Compared to the fighting in Feinster, it was much fiercer and greater at Gil'ead.

It was like she was staring out from above in Glaedr's eyes.

_Below running along the roofs of the city was Eragon fighting Jeremiah with such speed that it was hard for him to even keep track of. His blue blades tainted red flashed in the night, blue streaks due to the speed of his attacks. They attacked each other jumping about each of their swords as if it was a mere game they played. _

_Above a chunk of rotting meat fell. Saphira had managed to grab the imitation dragon in her hold and was busy ripping at its neck. As she did so, a pure white shine appeared in the flesh. He knew what the gleam was. _

_It was an Eldunarí._

She wanted to continue watching but stopped when Eragon's soul within her resonated once more pulling her back to herself. She shook her head trying to focus. The situation they were in was not ideal thought Arya as she stared at Murtagh as he laid there. Her headache returning once more, she was not sure if it was her eyes or something else but her surroundings began to shift once more. Overlapping the central chamber she found herself standing on a rooftop, jumping from roof to roof following after Jeremiah. She shook her head, her surroundings returning to norm. Before her Murtagh's eyes opened and he stood looking disoriented. She stood with him, her hands tightening over pommel of Támerlein.

"Are you well enough to fight?" asked Arya to him. He nodded. She started forward stopping when she felt something warm drip on her hand. She glanced down at her left hand. There was a speck of blood on it. But she wasn't injured else Eragon's magic would have sprung forth to heal her. Her heart pounding in her chest, she fell over on her knees feeling Murtagh's hands grip her catching her.

"Arya?"

The world was fading from her as she found herself once more drawn to Eragon.

_Running rapidly from roof to roof, Eragon followed after Jeremiah. He was certain that Jeremiah had several Eldunarí with him. There was no other way he would be able to match his strength. Above, he saw Glaedr and Saphira fighting the rotting flesh dragon with renewed strength as if they had discovered something about the dragon that infuriated them. Oromis having suffered a seizure earlier was brought back to the elven encampment to recover. His retreat was covered by Eragon and Saphira. Wielding Vrangr in one hand, he nicked Jeremiah on the arm and the moment it made contact with his blood, the blade glowed. Jeremiah brought his sword up to deflect the blow only to have the blade of his sword melt away as it touched the pulsing violet glow that lined Vrangr. Seeing him unarmed, Eragon brought up Brisingr and stabbed him through his right wrist as he howled in pain. _

_Not losing momentum, he ran forward pushing Jeremiah off of the roof and causing him to land on his back with a slam. Pulling Brisingr out, he placed a foot on Jeremiah breathing harshly. "Any last words?" _

_Jeremiah had grown quiet underneath him. Not struggling, he stared blankly up at Eragon before speaking, this time in a rich voice. His voice was round and smooth, like those of a practiced orator, "It has been some time since I have seen you Eragon," the surprised that surge through Eragon left him unguarded as he was thrown off of his feet with a ball of light to his chest causing him to fly backwards, slamming into a brick wall of a house behind him. The brick cracked under the pressure of the impact and gave wave causing him to land roughly on his back, dazed. "Ah, I had hoped that I could limit the destruction of Gil'ead." _

_Emerging from the large gap created by Eragon's impact, Jeremiah appeared healing his wrist as he did so. His right arm from elbow to hand was made of metal. He walked forward with ease, bending down to pick up Vrangr. "What a beautiful blade this is…" The sword shook in his hands, ill at ease in his hand. "How rebellious, just like its rider." _

_He held glared down at Eragon pointing Vrangr at the rider. "Let me teach you, my protégée, how we deal with treason amongst our kind."_

**Read everyone's reviews and I figured you all thought as much about my update speed. Anyways, I'll try to work on Eragon's POV and have it updated soon but I'll be doing it from scratch. To answer the Sone who asked me about the concert, I haven't gone to the Love&Girls concert but I went to their June 9th World Tour Concert. (VIP Seats peoples! Taeng-shi was dorky as ever). Anyways, to address the concerns about my possible spin-off, I have thought of doing a sequel about a "What comes next" I always thought of ExA rebuilding Alagaesia and the Order, and maybe having kids or something. However nothing is certain at this point. Also to those of you who recommended "Fainting Robin" I've read that story way back. The writer was someone whom I had the chance to talk to by FF PMs. That writer was the one who gave me the idea of writing a time travel fanfic. I just never got around to it. Anyways, hope to see you all soon! Leave a review if you want :) or anxiously wait for the next chapter! **


	68. Chapter 64

Chapter 64

**Now for Eragon's POV! I finished this in good time, everything just sort of flowed through me. I want to apologize before hand if there's any grammar mistakes and such. (I've read over it three times to try and check for everything but I'm sure I missed a few). Also, some of you have expressed strong thoughts of conjunctions in terms of the language of the story, I checked that in this chapter as well taking out those that do not fit. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys reading this since this is my take on the battle for Gil'ead and how things goes down. R&R everyone! **

Brisingr was lax in his hands as he laid on the ground the pain of his impact still washing through his body. His once silver armor was tainted all over with blood, his own and others. Panting from the exertion of his battles as well as the impact of the blow from Galbatorix, Eragon stared up the tip of Vrangr, the sword shaking in Galbatorix's hand. He'd thought much of the traitor king. It didn't surprise him that Galbatorix knew how to control a mind from so far a distance. His body ached from the pain of the fall and he was tired from the raging battle for Gil'ead. The city was not willing to fall even if they were fighting against one of the most powerful races to have ever walked Alagaësia. As he laid there staring at his sapphire blue sword, Eragon watched as the blood that was stained on the blade slowly began to disappear, absorbed by the sword.

Having killed a multitude of soldiers, Vrangr was pulsing with energy. He stared up into the cold eyes of Jeremiah knowing that it was Galbatorix who was speaking to him. As he stared up at the man, he felt Arya's soul within him resonate and instead of Jeremiah he found himself staring up at maroon eyes. Eragon gasped when he returned to himself, Jeremiah standing before him once more.

"I shall admit I am very displeased by your appearance Gabranth. Or should I say Eragon Shadeslayer?" Galbatorix's voice held a tone of humor to it as if he found the situation particularly enjoyable. Reaching down, he gripped Eragon by the throat, lifting him upwards with ease. Then with the tip of Vrangr, he lifted Eragon's helm from his head. "You, Eragon, have caused me to lose a very faithful servant. Tut-tut, when I heard news that Durza was slain by your hands, I was disappointed in you. To think that you would throw away my kindness and run off with the Varden. How disappointing."

Without another word, he threw Eragon backwards. His strength was tremendous for once more Eragon found himself smashing through another brick wall. Flying a few paces, he rolled and skidded to a stop. It took all of his will power to keep a grip on Brisingr. Not letting him move to his feet, Galbatorix was upon him with such speed that could compare to an elf. Earlier, Jeremiah could barely guard the blows Eragon dealt him and yet…

"I was displeased when that poor meddler Brom managed to take from my treasury Thorn's egg," Galbatorix's voice acquired a harsh, angry cast, but it did not lose its richness. "However, I thought it was repayment enough when his son became the rider of the last female egg in Alagaësia. Yes, I thought what would one egg matter when I had Saphira? Let Brom run about Alagaësia searching for a rider. In the end, that rider shall be no match for the might of my new vassal. Yet, Eragon you have caused me much trouble just like your father. Like father like son."

Eragon coughed, spewing blood onto the ground before him. The pain in his side was excruciating, he was positive that he had crack one if not multiple ribs on his landing. As soon as the pain started, he felt the warmth of Arya's magic and within a few seconds his ribs were mended. "Have you finally decided to deal with us now?" asked Eragon. He felt a small hint of fear in his heart but he wasn't going to give Galbatorix the satisfaction of sensing any sort of fear from him.

"Finally?" Galbatorix laughed, before slamming the flat side of Vrangr against the side of his face, "My, my, my, being outside of my command has caused you to become rude. Has being under Oromis's and Glaedr's tutelage not taught you any mannerism?" Eragon's neck ached from the blow but he shook it off. "I was planning on letting you and your pathetic band of allies march to Urû'baen. Then I would have personally dealt with you myself. Imagine the honor, to have King Galbatorix, the true leader of Alagaësia and the Order of the Riders, fly out to greet you on the battlefield. Many have died before they could even reach the gates of my city."

"Then why have you come now?" asked Eragon. In response to his words, Galbatorix placed a boot on Eragon's ankle and pressed. He heard a snap of bones and a sharp pain run through his leg. He wanted to cry out but refused. Eragon's eyes glanced around the area they were in. It was deserted for the fighting was centered deeper within the city. He couldn't cry out and attract any attention to his situation for Galbatorix could easily kill the elves as they killed humans. His eyes turned to his broke ankle and saw the faint green mist wrap about it. He felt his bones come together and his ankle straighten.

"Ah, manners Eragon," Galbatorix smiled down at him, a cold and chilling smile. "I do not take well to my subjects speaking out of turn. That will just not do when one is facing his king." His eyes stared at Eragon's form, narrowing slightly. "I believe I did not give you permission to simply lie down when speaking with me. What poor form." He lifted his hand and black magic pulsed from Jeremiah's palm. Feeling as if strings had attached themselves to his body, Eragon was pulled to his feet. No matter how much he struggled, he grunted when the force of Galbatorix's magic forced him down on his knees. His hands slammed into the ground before him with such force that the concrete cracked. Brisingr fell with a clang to the ground as Eragon was forced to bow to Galbatorix. He was grateful thought Eragon despite his demeaning position that his mind was cut off from Saphira. They had agreed not to contact each other during battle in order to better protect themselves. He could hear her roars in the sky above and fervently hope that her battle with the imitation dragon continued.

At least until he dealt with Galbatorix.

"Lift your head Eragon, it is only proper for you to face me when I am speaking directly to you," the strings pulled again and Eragon's body automatically straightened from his bowed position. His hands came to rest on his knees and his chin was lifted upwards of its own accord. Galbatorix nodded, satisfied. He turned to examine the ruined street of Gil'ead. Pointing his hand at a brick wall that had yet to fall, he said a few words in the ancient language. The wall shifted like water. Then the materials pulled apart from each other and floated over to Galbatorix. Eragon watched as the bricks reassembled themselves forming a stone throne in the likeness of the one in Urû'baen. "I admit this is rather lacking and I do not have my crown however, this shall do. Once more, I say it is a disappointment not to have personally dealt with such matters in Urû'baen. Formalities are tiring but such are needed."

He shifted in the stone throne as if uncomfortable. Then after a moment, he turned his gaze back to Eragon laying Vrangr out on his knees. Eragon stared at the sword that Arya had forged for him feeling a well of anger rise up within him. She had tiredly labored overnight to make Vrangr and to have it sullied by Galbatorix's—Jeremiah's—hands angered him to no end. It was as if Galbatorix himself was violating Arya. As he thought of that, his mind flashed red. Vrangr continued to shake even as it rested on Galbatorix's knees.

"Now to answer your question Eragon, why did I decide to come out and deal with you now you ask? I shall tell you," he leaned back in his stone throne, staring down at Eragon with deep eyes. Though he may not be in his original body, the effects of his stare were similar if not exact to how Eragon always felt before him: inferior. "News has traveled across Alagaësia about the appearance of a great golden dragon. Long have I thought that the elves might be hiding a dragon or Rider from my sight. It is gratifying to have my suspicions confirmed."

"You shall never be the better of Master Oromis," said Eragon knowing that his words would only serve to irritate Galbatorix. Indeed it did for he flicked his hand and Eragon's body plunged forward once more hitting the ground as he was forced to bow to Galbatorix, this time his head bowed with him. He couldn't take it—this humiliation.

"For shame, Eragon. Have the elves taught you nothing?" he tapped his finger against the arm of the throne and had Eragon straighten once more. "I shall always be your master. A stray dog may run amuck from time to time but it shall always return to its owner."

Galbatorix leaned forward to stare directly into Eragon's eyes, "Now listen well to me Eragon and do not do to irritate me. I am a patient master but I have my limits. If you shall do more to anger me, I shall have Saphira fall from the sky not a master of the winds but as the prisoner of the ground. What great sorrow it is for the likes of Saphira not being able to fly."

He didn't respond but kept his tongue knowing that it would only do harm to anger Galbatorix. The king leaned back in his throne and observed Eragon once more. "I want Glaedr and Oromis to join me in recreating the Order of the Riders. It is only natural that he do so. Oromis-elda has always been the wisest of the Elders. The rest were mere buffoons, idle upon their throne as they watched the world waste away before them. He was the first to recognize the madness eating away at my soul, and it was he who convinced the Elders to deny my request for another dragon egg. I speculate how it could be that he managed to escape Kialandí and Formora, even after they had broken him. Yet, here he is after years of hiding until all but one of his enemies remains. He is a very wise elf do you not agree Eragon?"

Eragon didn't respond to him. Never one to be ignored Galbatorix turned his eyes on Eragon and began to move his fingers. "Do you agree or disagree, Eragon?" Eragon felt his neck move against his own will. Galbatorix made him nod and shake his head to represent the answers he wanted. "You agree?" Eragon's head nodded of its own accord, "I knew you would see it my way. You always were my most loyal subject. Now that I have answered your question, it is time to see how I shall punish you Eragon. You willing gave away the last of the dragon eggs and allowed the Varden to horde the three riders who are rightfully mine. If you seek forgiveness accordingly, I shall see to it that bygones be bygones."

"I do not need your forgiveness," said Eragon defiantly. Galbatorix sighed and once more Eragon found his body bowed against the concrete, the pressure too great for him to overcome in his tired state. As was on all fours in a bow, he felt a twinge of pain that did not belong to him but rather to Arya.

Then instead of staring at concrete, he was in the keep in Feinster.

_Gasping for breath, Arya could feel Eragon's magic continually wrap itself around her throat as Varaug held onto her tightly. His strength was too great. He was a newly born shade and was therefore endowed with the power of his recent birth. She tried to breathe but her windpipe was constricted by his tight grip. If only she had Támerlein but the emerald sword was lying beside Murtagh and he had yet to awaken from his stupor. She coughed. _

Eragon came back to himself as he felt one Jeremiah's booted feet, rest on his head before pushing his face against the concrete in a demeaning way. "You shall hold your tongue when I speak to you Eragon," said Galbatorix harshly. "Do not make my patience run thin."

The pressure of his foot lifted and once more Eragon found his body straightening of its own accord, the invisible strings holding onto him tightly. "Now let us review your transgressions shall we?" He spoke as if Eragon was participating in an audience with Galbatorix. It was as if they were not in the midst of a battle but rather back in Urû'baen. "First and foremost, you are a traitor to the Empire, your king, and your Master. What have you to say against such claims, Eragon Shadeslayer?"

"You are not my master," muttered Eragon. Galbatorix's eyes narrowed and he was forced to bow once more, the force on his greater than before.

"How many times must we go through this? The saying is that one cannot teach an old dog new tricks, I believe? You are still young Eragon. If you do not learn, you shall never become an old dog," his anger towards Galbatorix only continued to grow. "Moving on, you escaped and allowed two riders to join forces with the Varden to rise up against me. You have killed Durza, a valued asset, and freed the Urgals from my command allowing them too to join ranks with the Varden. You have also allowed this rebellion to spread brining it upon the doorstops of my citizens. You and the Varden are responsible for allowing this war to sweep across Alagaësia. I was content to ruling as king and you go and challenge my ruling. Had you kept your head bowed than this war would have died out. You and your mother could have lived in peace in the estate that I provided you with. However, you answer my graciousness with this!"

He gestured around the burning city of Gil'ead. They could hear the clangs of metal and the cries of death. Blood and smoke hanged heavily in the air. As if angered by his sudden speech, Galbatorix reached out and with the pommel of Vrangr struck him in the head. The world was blurred to Eragon due to the blow. But the strings attached to him would not let his body receive the impact of the blow. It was uncomfortable. He felt blood trickle down his face from the cut the pommel made. It disappeared within seconds due to Arya's magic. Vrangr's shaking grew stronger.

"What is it that has enticed you Eragon?" Galbatorix asked. His voice was still harsh but there was a slight curiosity to it. "You had so much hatred within you, for your father and for Murtagh. I had thought you would kill them with your own hands or drag them to the feet of my throne so that I may deliver justice in your name. Yet, here you are defending them, allowing them to destroy the peace and prosperity I have brought to my empire which I and lord and master of. Is it the appeal of Arya Dröttningu?"

At the mention of Arya's name, Eragon stiffened as Galbatorix's cruel smile widened. "Ah, so you were drawn to her I see. It appears that giving her to you as a gift has horribly corrupted your mind. Had I ordered her to be brought to me the two of you could have shared your ardor as my new riders. You are weak minded Eragon to let but a mere woman weaken your resolve. Has she chosen you as her mate? Do you love her? Love her enough to throw away your life and Saphira's life?"

He pressed his lips together and refused to answer.

"I see. Then in that case I shall not kill you despite all the trouble you have caused me," Galbatorix stood shaking his head. "No, I shall let you march to Urû'baen with your mate and brother. I shall let you stand before me on my rightful throne and I shall see to it that I break the both of you. To think that all of this foolishness has sprouted from your desire to be loved. I admit, I have not taught you well in that essence but never before have I felt disgusted at your actions. Men tempted by women are weak, and weak men harbor weak hearts. I made you intro a strong and fine rider and this elf that you love has destroyed all of my efforts. For that she shall be punished. I can promise you that Eragon."

His hand tightened on the grip of Vrangr and Galbatorix stared down at him. "First however, I still need to punish you. Let me show you Eragon, how treason is dealt with." The strings on his body was released. Faster than Eragon could reach for Brisingr, he was thrown backwards through the street tumbling and skidding to a stop on the ground, every bone in his body feeling as if it was going to break. Galbatorix's strength was too great. He was no doubt exhausting the Eldunarí with him to maintain control over Jeremiah at such a great distance and yet see fit to punish Eragon. He just needed to hold out thought Eragon. He needed to weaken Galbatorix and kill Jeremiah's body. Moving to his feet, he coughed blood spilling from his lips as he watched Galbatorix walk forward both of his blades in his hands. Eragon watched as they shook violently refusing to let Galbatorix wield them.

"On your knees Eragon!" immediately he was sent onto his knees with a mere cry of the ancient language from Galbatorix. The king stopped before him holding his rebelling swords. Galbatorix pointed Vrangr at him once more. "Let us see what shall happen when I drawn your blood with your own blade."

Eragon gasped at the burning feeling that ran through his entire body as Vrangr's violet edge touched the side of his face, slicing a thin line across his cheek. It felt as if his entire body was burning from the inside out. A cool drop of blood ran down his face and dropped onto the sapphire blade. He watched as it was absorbed by the blade. Then something happened that surprised the both of them. A surge of power erupted from Vrangr, the blade flashed in Galbatorix's right hand causing him to drop it in case it started to burn all of Jeremiah's body. Reacting to the pulse in Vrangr, Brisingr was lit into flames the blue fire not stopping at the hilt but consuming Jeremiah's body that Galbatorix was controlling.

Galbatorix, too, dropped Brisingr from his grasp. Using this moment, Eragon lunged forward grabbing both swords glad to be reunited with them. The moment his hands closed around Vrangr, he felt Arya's warmth flood through him. It was almost like she was there embracing him. A surge of energy flowed from Vrangr and through his body healing every scrape and bruise on his body while restoring his energy. In his right hand Brisingr shined brilliantly in the night the blue flames never going out. He stared at Galbatorix and his displeased expression.

Not slowing, Eragon rushed forward letting his anger get the best of him. He brought Vrangr and Brisingr down slash by slash watching as Galbatorix deflected every blow with the metal arm that made up half of Jeremiah's right arm. No matter how many times the two blades made contact with the metal it refused to give way. It was no doubt protected by Galbatorix's magic. They continued on like that for some time. Eragon would blindly attack Galbatorix to have him deflect blow for blow. Slamming Brisingr down on Galbatorix's right hand, Eragon pushed the limb down and held it down with his strength as best as he could. Then with a flick of Vrangr, he drove it into Jeremiah's right shoulder watching the blade grow with the blood it absorbed. Galbatorix merely stared at Eragon as if it was child's play.

"You must understand Eragon that this body does not belong to me," he reached up with Jeremiah's left hand and gripped the blade of Vrangr. "Therefore whatever pain you inflict on it shall not reach me." With a tug, he pulled Vrangr out and at the same time pushed back Brisingr causing Eragon to stumble. Then as if unsatisfied with his fight, he brought his right hand up and slammed it in Eragon's gut throwing him backwards. "Is that the extent of your power?"

Falling down a few steps, he coughed rapidly moving to his feet as Galbatorix reached out with his left hand and held it over his right. He muttered some words and Eragon watched as the metal of the hand shifted turning and changing until it solidified into a thin, pale sword. He was ready when Galbatorix attacked him. Using Brisingr to ward off the attack, he brought Vrangr down to have it meet the pale blade that was now Galbatorix's right hand. Eragon jumped back trying to give himself space. He dodged another blow to his head hearing the wall behind him shatter to pieces as the sword made contact with the wall. With Brisingr Eragon parried another blow. He threw Galbatorix back glancing at the enclosed street they were in.

He needed open space to fight.

As he continued to retreat, Galbatorix came after him blow for blow all which he blocked or parried. He continued to retreat, letting Galbatorix believe that he was pushing him back. As he blocked bowl for blow, the world began to shift before him once more. He was once more staring into the keep of Feinster.

_She had to end this now. It was getting too out of hand. Rolling about the ground with Varaug, Arya struggled to maintain her grip on Támerlein as Murtagh was kneeling on the ground where he once stood trying to keep the Shade distracted with his mental attacks. Letting out a shout, she struck Varaug in the side of his head with the pommel of Támerlein. _

_The Shade went limp for an instant, and Arya scrambled backward, pushing herself upright. Breathing harshly as Eragon's magic continued to heal her throat, she watched as Murtagh sought to restrain the Shade from moving. Varaug rose onto one knee, then faltered. _

"_Get him!" Murtagh shouted. _

_Not needing him to say more, Arya lunged forward, Támerlein flashing in her hand. _

_And she stabbed the Shade through his heart. _

Eragon grunted in pain as he was kicked in the side. He flew once more slamming into iron gates as they emerged into the central courtyard before the heavily guarded keep where the soldiers of Gil'ead and Islanzadí's forces were gathered. The iron gates gave a heave before their hinges came apart from the stone working with the impact of Eragon's body. He flew through the air landing roughly on his side as he rolled to a stop by white hooves. His body was continually beaten and battered only to have Arya's magic heal him once more. His pride in Arya was not diminished despite his circumstance.

"Who are you?" his eyes widened as he heard the rich voice that belonged to Queen Islanzadí. Everyone was frozen as they stared up at Jeremiah or rather Galbatorix. Moving to his feet despite the ache in his body, Eragon reached down to grip his swords as Galbatorix walked down the steps to the keep in a relaxed manner. He stared at the soldiers that protected the keep.

"It is an honor to be in your presence Queen Islanzadí," he addressed her once more using his smooth voice rather than his angered and harsh one. "An honor that you deem me important enough to rally your forces from the protection of your forest and strike against me." Eragon's eyes darted to Islanzadí as she sat atop her noble steed thousands of her warriors stationed behind her. Galbatorix was no match for them not while he was in Jeremiah's body. Islanzadí's emerald eyes hardened.

"So we have in our midst the traitor king," she said coldly.

"Such a harsh greeting," Galbatorix shook his head. He glanced at his troops slightly displeased, "Did you not hear me when I spoke? You must greet our honored guests as your king did." He held out his left hand and immediately the hundreds of soldiers that protected the keep fell to their knees as if a heavy force had bid them do so. "Much better. Once more I welcome you Queen Islanzadí and your forces to Gil'ead. Is the city to your liking?"

"It is undoing of a king to jest when his people are dying by the minute," said Islanzadí coldly gazing at Galbatorix with such a cold expression Eragon was slightly surprised that he did not take pause. "Have you come to protect this fortress?"

Galbatorix merely shook his head, "I have come for the riders that are rightfully mine," at his words the attention was shifted to Eragon before it returned to king Galbatorix. "Now, why have you come Islanzadí Dröttning?"

"In order to topple you from your throne," came her reply. Galbatorix merely shook his head.

"All so rude and after I have greeted you so warmly," said Galbatorix as his appearance changed showing his anger and irritation. "In any case, I do believe that you are not simply here to bring me one step closer to my downfall Islanzadí. No, I believe that part of the reason you wish to see me dead is due to the death that I delivered to your mate, Evandar was it not?" At the mention of the late elf king, a flash of grief appeared on Islanzadí's face. It was so strong that Eragon felt angered that Galbatorix had the audacity to mention how he had killed the late king. The moment the emotion appeared it was gone. "He died valiantly in battle. He refused to surrender when he knew that he could not defeat me or regain the lost city of Iliera. He died a king albeit a foolish king."

Anger passed over Islanzadí's face. Her brows were slanted dangerously and she was glaring at Galbatorix. Eragon felt his grip on his swords tightened as he stared at Galbatorix as the dragons fought overhead. It was deathly quiet except for their roars. He stared at Galbatorix letting his words sink in. Deep down in him, it was as if something within his soul had come forth pouring out from him. He felt Arya's emotions stronger than ever as Galbatorix spoke about her late father in such a condescending tone. He felt her soul pulse through his own, the strength of it pouring through every vein in his body until it reached the pommel of Vrangr. He watched as the sword reacted to Arya's spirit.

That was when his body moved of its own. Rushing forward as if drawn towards Galbatorix, he felt himself move with much more grace than he usually did. He had the urge to resist the force that was pulling him forward but then a voice within his head surprise him. _Fight with me Eragon. _

_Arya? _He was so surprised that he did not notice Brisingr swinging down on top of Jeremiah with such force that when it met the pale blade on Jeremiah's right arm a note resonated from the point where they met nearly deafening Eragon. _How did you…? _

_If Galbatorix can control Jeremiah from Urû'baen than the two of us can fight together for our souls are one. Do not resist me Eragon, it is already difficult as it is to reach out to you from such a great distance. _

He nodded and rather than opening his mind to her, he opened his soul to her. Feeling her spirit merge with him to the very tips of his fingers, Eragon fought with his right arm while he let Arya swing his left the two of them using his body to coordinate their attack. Ignoring the soldiers as they came to assist, Eragon rushed forward refusing to let Galbatorix regain his step. He had already been in Jeremiah's body for a prolonged period of time and his strength was surely waning. While Eragon's fighting style was more predictable, with Arya's help his fighting style was a combined mix of his strength and her speed. She saw every opening that he couldn't helping him to protect himself from Galbatorix.

Behind him he heard Islanzadí's orders, "Forward!" There was a rhythmic sound of footsteps before he heard Galbatorix's warriors release their own battle-cries as the two armies met. Running forward, Eragon was able to land a deep gash on Jeremiah's leg causing Galbatorix to stumble. His attacks were faltering.

In order to defend himself, Galbatorix let out a yell throwing him against the wall of the keep in surprise. He felt his bone ached from the jarring impact grunting. _Eragon, does it hurt much? _He heard Arya's concern for him echo in his mind and once more her magic came forth to heal him and with her emotions within his heart, he felt her deep worry mixed within her love for him.

_I'm fine, _Eragon stood huffing. His eyes searched for Galbatorix widening when he saw that Islanzadí had taken leave of her steed and was fighting on foot with Galbatorix. It seemed as if his words really did bring out her anger. He watched as she fought with great speed and strength never tiring. No doubt the elves were channeling their strength into her. Watching as she pull back, Eragon saw Galbatorix reach for his magic.

_Mother! _Arya reacted within him and with their combined speed, Eragon's body lurched forward. Not giving any thought to his own safety, Brisingr surged forward and sliced right through Jeremiah's left hand preventing Galbatorix to cast his spell. He grunted when he felt the pale blade of his right arm dig into his thigh. Immediately in retaliation, Arya brought Vrangr down on his right shoulder severing his arm. There was a howl of pain and Eragon knew that Galbatorix was currently withdrawing from Jeremiah.

He had lost to them.

Stumbling backwards, Jeremiah or Galbatorix slid their hand off of Brisingr reaching up to grab the stump of what used to be his right arm. As Jeremiah continued to stumble, Eragon watched as a beautiful blade emerged from the center of Jeremiah's chest. His eyes widened and his body convulsed. A great roar was released from Jeremiah's body before the corpse slid forward and off of the blade, falling to the ground. Queen Islanzadí stood behind Jeremiah staring down at his dead body.

Dropping Vrangr, he felt Arya reach down and pull Jeremiah's blade from his left thigh. He could feel her relief at having escaped Galbatorix's dark powers. _We are not done yet, _said Eragon. _We still have to capture Cadmaran._

_I know, _he glanced down at his leg feeling her warm magic caress his wound. As he stared down at the gaping hole, he could see Arya before him. She was kneeling and her hand was held against his bleeding thigh. The wound closed up. When she was done she stood before embracing him. The warmth of the embrace moved his heart. He couldn't feel her physically but he knew she was there.

_Thank you for saving me, _said Eragon as he leaned down to pick up his Vrangr. It pulsed as if listening to his thoughts. Above them, he heard a roar of pure triumph from Glaedr and Saphira. Glancing up, he saw the last pieces of the rotting flesh fall from the sky revealing a bright glowing object. _An Eldunarí! _Then it was gone as Glaedr's jaws closed over it as if to protect it from unwanted eyes. The dragons had won.

Letting out another roar, Saphira dove forward landing on the tallest spire of the keep before bellowing once more. Following her lead, Glaedr swooped down from below striking terror into the hearts of the Empire. _Eragon, _it was Arya. _I do not have enough strength to maintain our connection. Help my mother conquer Gil'ead. _

_I will._

Her thoughts were fading as she spoke once more, _and come back to me, Eragon. I will be waiting for you. _Though the strength of her consciousness and spirit lessened, he could still feel her within him. When he was down in Gil'ead he was going to fly straight to her side and hopefully they would be able to understand their connection even more. He saw Islanzadí waiting for him by the entrance of the keep. Her emerald eyes were lit with the fierceness of battle. "Your Majesty," greeted Eragon as he stopped by her side. She regarded him for a moment as she stood with her best warriors, he spotted Däthedr by her right hand side.

"Lead us onward Eragon," she gestured to the keep. His eyes glanced towards Jeremiah wandering where the Eldunarí he had were before nodding. With Vrangr, he melted the hinges of the door with its violet edge and kicked the door open before leading them inside the keep. They had to capture Cadmaran and force his surrender to win Gil'ead.

Arya was waiting for him.

**So what do you think? Normally I wouldn't mind just paving through to the next chapter but your reviews for this chapter will be greatly appreciated since almost all of it is from scratch. Galbatorix is surprisingly a long talker in the original and I hope that I have captured an essence of his character well enough. He's like the overbearing, evil man or something. Anyways, I am a hard worker aren't I? I posted this a little earlier than normal so for those who get off of work and turn on their computers, you will see this new chapter up and ready! See you all soon! **


	69. Chapter 65

Chapter 65

**I believe this marks the end of Brisingr in my story. There are some questions I want to address. I know a few of you want to see Arya fighting the Shade but I decided not to write a chapter to her merely killing a Shade since it showed in the last chapter that she killed him through Eragon's eyes. And for those curious as to the whole soul bonding and the healing that comes for it, all I can say is to keep reading because my later chapters will start to shed light on things. Apart from that this is the continuation of Eragon's POV from the last chapter. I don't own Eragon but hey in my head remember? Anyways R&R. **

Breaking another sword in his way, Eragon stabbed the man holding the hilt of the now jagged sword through the throat and pulled back. Behind him were Islanzadí and her warriors fighting with ease as compared to the panic of the soldiers of the keep. Not caring about the thicket of spears pointed at him by the soldiers, Eragon with a swipe of Brisingr sliced off each point of the spears reducing the weapons to nothing more than wooden poles with blunt ends. Seeing as they were now weaponless, the soldiers in the keep instantly withdrew in a panic. Running up the stairs, Eragon and Islanzadí and her warriors emerged onto the third floor which was surprisingly silent. Something was amiss.

Eragon slowly walked forward staring about the landing.

He was sure that Cadmaran was residing here. Though Eragon disliked Cadmaran, the man was a lord in his own right. He would never hole himself up in the highest tower in the keep with a company of soldiers to protect him. No, he would armor himself to the teeth to fight for Gil'ead which was going to make it all the much harder for them to capture the city. In order to make the people surrender to the elves, they needed Cadmaran alive. Killing him would only ensure the continuation of the fighting until the last of the Empire's servants were cleanly swept away.

"You should attend to your wounds whilst we have a moment of respite Shadeslayer," Islanzadí looked ill at ease in the sudden quiet of battle. Eragon glanced down at himself to find that he had numerous amounts of bruises and cuts on his arms and he had not felt it earlier but there was a thin cut on his right cheek, dripping blood. He himself was too tired to heal his own wounds and it seemed as if Arya's magic had exhausted itself trying to keep him unscathed in battle. He stared at Vrangr, during the fighting in the keep Eragon had called upon the energy stored away in the blade itself to break through the numerous wards that the shrouded the many doors in the stone castle.

"They are of little concern," said Eragon as he walked forward his booted feet sounding loud against the marble floor. "I would like to spend my energy on finding Cadmaran first Your Majesty." His eyes narrowed as he walked further into the wide landing, when Islanzadí made to follow Eragon shook his head. There was a very strange thing about this. He could feel a strong presence about the landing and yet he couldn't pinpoint it. It was as if the consciousness was everywhere. As he thought about it, he heard a slight crack in the ceiling above him. Knowing more than to stand in the same spot idly, Eragon jumped forward as the ceiling gave way and a large, muscular man dropped down landing on his feet in a crouched position.

"Cadmaran," Eragon acknowledged the man. He recognized the dark armor and the bright red sigil of the Empire clearly enough. As Cadmaran straightened, Eragon glanced up at the large gaping hole he made in the ceiling. The marble floor was several inches thick. No normal human could break through the flooring. From what he saw of Cadmaran all the man had was an axe. He had no mace or other heavy weaponry that could pierce the floor.

"I was beginning to wonder when the traitor would show his face here," Cadmaran spoke as he stood towering at a height of six feet making look all the more like a giant. Underneath his dark armor was a muscled body with years of experience from fighting in all sorts of battles. A scar trailed across his left cheek. His blond hair was coated in blood and Eragon could make out the crimson color on Cadmaran's face. His eyes darted to the man's hand and axe to find that it was coated with blood. Eragon's eyes narrowed.

This man…

Before he could say anymore something else fell down from the gaping hole, hitting the ground with a dull thud. It was a dead soldier. His limbs were displayed at odd angles evidence of numerous broken bones. His eyes were wide open in horror and on his lips was the ghost of a scream for help. Eragon's eyes darted to the area where the soldier's heart was, there was a dent in the metal and blood seeped to the ground coating the now rubble filled floor with its crimson color.

"You ate your own men's hearts?" Eragon stared up at Cadmaran in disgust. "I am a traitor but least I leave the organs of my men untouched. Have you lost your mind Cadmaran? These are your men." Cadmaran merely flourished his axe in his hands.

"They are expendable," he answered deeply, "If one dies on the battlefield today, another shall be taken from their home and dressed in his armor. It is as simple as that." Eragon saw Islanzadí's expression from across the landing and she looked more than displeased at the barbaric nature of Cadmaran's words. "I see you have joined forces with the elves."

"To help the Varden fight against the Empire," said Eragon. He wasn't sure if Cadmaran was more brawn than brains but he had an inkling that he certainly did not have enough muscles in his head as compared to his body. There was a reason why men like Cadmaran had a train full of advisors. That was because he did not think much.

"Was it because of that elf that Durza was torturing?" he spoke to Eragon as if they were good friends. Eragon's eyes narrowed and while Islanzadí's brows slanted showing that her anger was once more coming forth. Eragon inwardly sighed. Earlier Galbatorix had made mentions of the queen's late mate, Evandar. Now, Cadmaran was once more bringing up the tortures that Arya suffered in Gil'ead—in the very dungeons below their feet. "I always thought she was rather nice on the eyes. Nice skin, pretty face except for the scar that Durza left when he struck her with the pommel of his sword. I remembered trying to kiss her and she bit me."

All the while he was talking, Eragon felt a pulsing rage rise up in him. He felt as if his skin was boiling. He wanted to kill Cadmaran and rip out his own heart for saying such things. Arya had told Eragon of her tortures in Gil'ead but she had never gone into depth in whether or not anyone had tried to take advantage of her. An image of Arya sleeping against him after they had first consummated their bond flashed in his mind. He couldn't think of any other way to love her than how he did but Cadmaran was making a mockery of physical unions.

"Pleasing to look at she may be but I shall never bring the likes of her to my bed. A dog from the streets is much better than such an unnatural creature," before he could continue, Eragon charged at him. He was angry and he wanted Cadmaran's blood to wash away his anger. No one spoke of Arya in such demeaning words. As if expecting his charge, Cadmaran swung his large axe downwards. Eragon easily dodged out of the way watching as the shape blade slammed into the ground with such a great force that it cracked the stone work. In his anger, his mind registered the inhuman strength.

_Cadmaran has the Eldunarí. But why would Galbatorix give him one? Or could this be Jeremiah's? _

His anger driving him, Eragon reached up and with the pommel of Vrangr slammed it right in Cadmaran's face giving him a long scar across his chin as Arya had when he first saw her in Gil'ead. He nearly wanted to curse at Cadmaran with all of his being but that would be childish. Instead, he was going to punish the man until Islanzadí or one of the elves pulled made him stop. Cadmaran was fast and strong thought Eragon as he jumped back. The moment he retreated Islanzadí came forward her red cape billowing about her as she danced about Cadmaran's large axe with ease. Her ferocity in battle impressed Eragon. Though she may not have fought in a war for nigh on a century, it did little to diminish her impressive skill. As Cadmaran's sword made contact with the ground once more, she brought up her thin long, elven blade and cut a thin line across the man's face. Cadmaran did not as much as blink an eye at her when she withdrew.

If it were not for the fact that they had to capture him, Eragon would have done away with Cadmaran's right arm in which he swung his large axe and cut him to shreds. Outside he heard the roars of the dragons and the cheers of the elves as if something momentous had happened. He spared one look outside rising upwards in the night sky was Glaedr and sitting on the saddle atop his shoulders was Oromis looking rejuvenated and ready to battle. His seizure must have subsided thought Eragon.

"You should not be paying attention to others," he glanced back and ducked as the blade of the swung at him horizontally embedding itself in the wall. Cracks immediately appeared as the axe was brought to a rest. Eragon was about to knock him away from the handle of his axe but Cadmaran withdrew the large weapon once more not giving him any time to consider doing so. Ducking once more as he flourished his axe in an arch, Eragon jumped back as did the other elves as he slammed the blade once more into the ground underneath them.

Cadmaran was reckless Eragon thought as he dove forward trying to knock the axe out of the tall man. As long as they managed to disarm him, they won. His feet landed on the marble floor and he nearly slid at the amounts of blood that coated the shiny surface due to the body of the fallen soldier. He stared at the blood transfixed that he could see his own reflection mirrored in it though slight distorted. There was a peal of metal as Islanzadí knocked aside the heavy axe as if it was nothing more than a wooden sword. He stared back down at the body and blood, a plan formulating in his mind. Strength did not determine the victors of all battles thought Eragon. No, great minds did.

And that was why Cadmaran would never be the victor.

With a flick of his wrist, Eragon drove Vrangr through the gaping hole in the soldier's chest hearing the squelch of flesh as he did so. A moment passed and he watched as the blade pulsed to life absorbing all of the blood in the body. Eragon's eyes darted to Islanzadí as she and her warriors continued their battle. He stared down at Vrangr watching as the violet edge grew stronger. While Vrangr continued to pulse, the body of the soldier it was draining all the blood from began to wither away. The flesh was starting to become dry and deathly white. He heard Islanzadí's shout and turned thinking that she may have been injured but she wasn't, she had managed to land another blow on Cadmaran this time on his right shoulder, denting the metal of his armor.

Eragon's eyes turned back to the body once more urging Vrangr to hurry its pace. He heard Cadmaran swing as Islanzadí danced about his blows coming to a stop beside Eragon. Her eyes darted to the body that he was draining blood from. Her lips thinned as Cadmaran's axe once more embedded itself into the floor due to his great momentum.

The cracks in the marble floor was numerous. Every inch was cracked making the marble appear like a spider web. Staring at Cadmaran, Eragon's eyes widened as the man lifted his heavily armored foot and stomped on the marble. There was a sound akin to the shattering of glass. Then the marble floor gave way beneath them. Letting out a yell, Eragon fell. Beside him, Islanzadí's expression was one of surprise as she too fell with him.

The chamber underneath them was just as large as the floor they were recently standing on until Cadmaran deemed it fit for a change of surroundings. Twisting about in the air, Eragon bent his knees as he landed. Beside him, Islanzadí's red cap billowed about her as her feet made contact with the ground in a graceful landing.

There was a thud in the center of the room as Cadmaran landed on his feet with his knees bent as well. He was imposing thought Eragon as he watched the man rise from his knees. However, Eragon had Vrangr pulsing in his hands from the great amount of blood it absorbed. His eyes darted to Queen Islanzadí, "Will you cover for me Your Majesty?"

She spared him a glance before nodding. Then she darted forward faster than even he could manage. All about the chamber the elves were paying close to attention to Islanzadí as they too recovered from their fall from the third landing. They were aiding her thought Eragon. On the battle field Islanzadí was no doubt the most vicious of opponents one could ever face. He turned back to Cadmaran who was just as fast and as strong as Islanzadí. He waited for the opportune moment.

Once more in his brute fighting style, Cadmaran swung down on the elf queen. She reached up and met the blade of his axe with her own holding the axe with little effort. That was his chance. Running forward, Eragon jumped, he brought Vrangr down on the metal of the axe that connected it to its long handle. Vrangr's blade began to eat away at the wards placed about the weapon, the violet glow destroying the weapon. The last of the axe's resistance gave way and the metal dropped useless to the ground. Flipping about in the air, he landed evenly on the ground. Running up to Cadmaran with great speed, Eragon smashed into him tackling him to the ground. He was done using blades as he thought of the earlier anger that he felt. They skidded to a stop a few feet away from Islanzadí. Sheathing Brisingr as Cadmaran struggled underneath him, Eragon held Vrangr in his right hand and with the blade began to cut the armor off of Cadmaran's body leaving only his clothing underneath.

As he pulled the armor up and off of Cadmaran, he felt the man's strength rapidly decrease until he had no power to resist Eragon. That was odd. There was no Eldunarí with him. That could only mean that Galbatorix had devised a way for the strength of the Eldunarí to be channeled to Cadmaran's armor. Eragon's brows furrowed if that was the case that would explain why Cadmaran was not as powerful as Jeremiah. _Where could the real Eldunarí be? _

Momentarily shaking the thought from his mind, Eragon sheathed Vrangr and reached down and picked up Cadmaran with ease despite how tall he was. "Now," said Eragon in a deadly voice, "What is it that you said about my mate?"

Cadmaran merely chuckled at him, "You have certainly changed if mere words could anger you so." Without answering him, Eragon threw him back against the wall. His earlier emotions returned to him with a vengeance. He was livid. The impact of Cadmaran's body made a loud thud and the man slid down the wall unconscious. If Eragon threw him with all of the strength he could muster, Cadmaran would likely be dead with all of his bones shattered. He was about to walk over to the man's fallen body but a slim hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"That is enough Eragon," said a rich voice softly. He turned to find Islanzadí staring at the prone body of Cadmaran. "We have won the battle. Let us no tarry any longer and end this needless fighting."

He nodded watching as Islanzadí sheathed her sword. She motioned with her hand and two of her generals came forward and reached down to grip Cadmaran by the arm dragging him on his feet. Taking the lead, Islanzadí turned about her cape sweeping across the floor as she led the way out of the castle. The night sky was beginning to lighten and he could see the first ways of the sun. They had been fighting for that long? Descending the steps of the keep with Eragon following right behind her, Islanzadí stop to stare out over the courtyard as the battle kept raging. She held up her left hand and descending from the sky, the white rave Blagden came to rest on her shoulder.

"Those who fight for the Empire!" she called out to the fighting, her rich voice sonorous with magic, "Surrender for your lord is now in our hands! It is useless to continue this needless fighting. Resist and you shall have the death you fought against delivered to you. Surrender and we shall not do you harm." The unconscious Cadmaran was brought forward for everyone to see.

There was a groan from the soldiers from the Empire as they saw Cadmaran devoid of weapon and armor and only his underclothes. Eragon heard the clang of metal as the soldiers dropped their swords and went on their knees, surrendering to the elves. Once the last of the Empire's men had surrendered a deafening roar sounded above them. Eragon glanced up to find Saphira and Glaedr circling over head, their scales gleaming as the sun rose, painting a beautiful mirage of gold and sapphire. The two of them really did represent the sun and sky thought Eragon with a slight smile as a cheer rose up from the elves at the beauty.

He turned to the Queen, "What shall we do now?" asked Eragon.

"I shall handle the rest of the city," her eyes flickered over to the dead body of Jeremiah. "Finish what you must Shadeslayer and return to the command tent." He nodded as she walked down the steps of the keep as imposing as ever. The elves and soldiers made way for her and even after a raging battle, the elves bowed and murmured their greetings to their queen. Eragon made his way over to Jeremiah's fallen body feeling slightly sorry for the man. All he wanted was to serve his empire and now here he was forsaken by his king. Not the most gracious way to repay such a devote servant thought Eragon as he bent down to take a better look at Jeremiah the sun illuminating the city. Now he could see plumes of smoke rise from the buildings clearer than a few hours before.

He turned the body over to take in the damage that was done. Islanzadí and Arya were sure not forgiving thought Eragon with a slight shiver. He was positive that if he had ever offended Evandar in anyway, Arya was going to give him the cold shoulder for weeks on end. Reaching down, Eragon began to pull the armor from Jeremiah's body frowning when he could not spot an Eldunarí on the man. Where could he have hid the dragon's heart of hearts?

Buffeted by strong winds, Eragon glanced up as Saphira landed beside him. Immediately she went to his side snaking her neck about him in an embrace. He smiled and stroked her armored snout, opening his mind to her for the first time since after battle. _You fought beautifully, _said Eragon admiring how fierce she looked, _the imitation that Galbatorix created was no match for you. _

_Oh hush you, you have a honeyed tongue no wonder why Arya fell for you, _Eragon chuckled as she nudged him once more careful not to crush him with her armor. After a moment Eragon pulled away as he returned to Jeremiah's body, he could not feel one ounce of energy from the corpse. The Eldunarí wasn't near him. But Eragon was certain it was still in the city. Galbatorix was too sure of himself. He never had to resort to retreat.

As he searched Jeremiah, Glaedr landed beside Saphira scaring the few soldiers that were still present in the courtyard due to his large mass and Oromis easily slid from the dragon's saddle. He watched his master. The way Oromis walked showed that he never had a seizure in the first place a few hours before. He greeted Oromis. "I am glad to see that you are well Master Oromis," said Eragon studying the aged face of the elf. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I have traveled back to the days of my youth," said Oromis with a smile. He was similar to Arya thought Eragon with his own slight smile. It seemed as if on the battlefield the elves can truly be themselves and enjoy their surroundings. The formalities of their normal way of life must have locked away all of their abilities to freely enjoy themselves. Oromis turned to Glaedr communicating something to the dragon.

The golden dragon lowered his head until his snout was directly before Eragon. Then he opened his jaw to reveal to stones in his mouth. Eragon felt his eyes widened. He thought he had only seen one in the sky when the dragon was defeated. One was a deep violet while the other a soft yellow, much softer than the bronze of Glaedr's scales.

"I had there was only one," said Eragon in slight surprise. Oromis shook his head as Glaedr closed his jaws.

"One Eldunarí would not have been enough to sustain the magical to create the creature that Galbatorix did. The ones that we have now are but hatchlings like Thorn and Eridor, they are not aged like Glaedr and as such their magic is not as potent," said Oromis with a frown, sadness inching its way onto his face. Eragon nodded understanding the meaning of Oromis's words well enough. He turned back to the keep.

"Let us search the keep Master Oromis for I am certain that there are more Eldunarí hidden in the stone walls of the castle," Oromis nodded, his golden armor gleaming in the sunlight as they made their way back up the steps into the keep the dragons settling to wait for them outside. They needed to rest as well due to their battle. As they walked searching the castle Eragon began to describe to Oromis his encounter with Galbatorix through Jeremiah.

"He managed to exert his control on Jeremiah's body even though he is in Urû'baen," said Eragon with a frown. Oromis nodded deep in thought. The keep was quiet, devoid of soldiers seeing as Gil'ead was taken by the elves. "I had thought it was impossible to do such a thing over such a great distance."

"Galbatorix has been experimenting with the power of the Eldunarí for a century Eragon," said Oromis as they walked about the chamber with the collapsed roof that Eragon and Islanzadí had been fighting in but moments before. Eragon nodded understating Oromis's reasoning. "He no doubt has found a way to control the mind of his subjects even if they are miles away."

He nodded as they walked, his armored feet clinking against the floor. He thought for a moment, "While I was fighting," said Eragon quietly the sunlight pouring in through the windows of the keep, "Arya was able to come to my aid." Oromis looked startled at his words and waited for him to continue with what he was trying to say. Trying to find the right words to describe what happened Eragon paved on.

"When Galbatorix was mocking Queen Islanzadí," Oromis's features darkened considerably. Eragon cleared his throat and continued. "The part of Arya that was part of my soul started to resonate within me and then my body started to move by itself. Until after I had taken a few steps, Arya spoke to me."

"Strange," murmured Oromis. Eragon nodded, he could agree with his master's words wholeheartedly.

"It was as if my body was a machine for us to fight with," said Eragon finding that was the best description he could give about the entire experience. "Urû'baen and Gil'ead are much closer than Feinster and Gil'ead. Do you know how that could have happened Master Oromis? Is it due to our soul bonding?"

"There is no other explanation to it," said Oromis as the ascended the stairs Eragon leading them down another ornate hallway brimming with the warm sunlight. "Remember what I have said Eragon. Soul bonding, in both yours and Arya's case, has never been heard of in the history of Alagaësia for many reasons. It is dangerous and can destroy the bonders. It is also irreversible. So far, only the two of you are the only ones to have bonded at such a level. It is gratifying to know that you were not captured by Galbatorix else Arya would undoubtedly fly to the gates of Urû'baen herself to find you. This connection you share is by no means simple."

At the thought of Arya doing such a thing he felt his expression darken. He by no means wanted Arya to sacrifice for him. As they walked, he felt the weight of Vrangr pressing against his back much akin the warmth of Arya's embrace. He felt at ease having the sword with him. That also brought back another question to mind. "Galbatorix had tried to use my blades on me," said Eragon once more drawing Oromis's attention. "The moment Vrangr absorbed my blood, there was a flash and Galbatorix dropped the sword."

"Did Brisingr react as well?" asked Oromis. Eragon nodded, detailing to him how his twin sword lit Jeremiah's body in blue flames as if it wanted to burn the man alive. Oromis's expression deepened once more and Eragon could tell that the information he told his teacher only did to ignite his curiosity even further rather than providing him with needed answers. "I can only assume that both of your twin blades did so in an attempt to protect you or to punish the wielder who sought to do you harm."

He thought of Vrangr and the time that it had absorbed the dwarves' blood in the tunnel as Eragon fought with Murtagh to kill the seven assassins sent after him. The energy in the blade had reached out to heal him. The many mysteries about his blades and his connection with Arya irked him. He knew nothing of them and it made him feel ill at ease. During the battle for Gil'ead a few hours earlier, Arya's feelings and sense kept on spilling over to him. He kept seeing the streets of Feinster and the keep as well as Murtagh, Thorn, and Eridor. The battle for Feinster was won he hoped. Eragon's eye wandered to the window to stare out at the light blue sky.

His thoughts wandered to Feinster. In his connection with Arya, he saw her kill a Shade. So she was a Shadeslayer now thought Eragon amused. He was going to have to tease her about it. She was now on par with him. Well, above him to be exact. She was still the crown princess to the knotted throne. Oromis and Eragon walked until they came upon and sealed door. Eragon raised his brows as he stared at the oak doors. Was this the treasury?

"It is sealed with magic," said Oromis as he laid a hand against the door to push it open. With a flourish of his arm, Oromis withdrew Naegling and cut the door down with ease. Eragon was slightly disappointed that he wasn't able to fight alongside Oromis for long until his teacher suffered another seizure. However, he was given the opportunity to fight alongside Queen Islanzadí, who proved to be a great warrior. The doors fell inwards to reveal a gold treasury. Not in the least drawn in by the gold, Eragon made his way over to the dark chest to the far left of the room feeling compelled to see what was inside.

He knelt before the chest and opened it feeling his eyes widened. Cushioned inside the velvet were two more Eldunarí, they were the same size as the ones Glaedr was protecting. One was black and the other red. That would mean that in their possession they had four of the Eldunarí. Eragon glanced up behind him to find Oromis gazing into the chest with tears in his eyes. After a few moments of just staring at the heart of hearts, Eragon closed the lid once more and reached down to grip the box. He lifted it from the floor and handed it to Oromis.

"You should take this to Queen Islanzadí, Mast Oromis," said Eragon as Oromis's brows furrowed. "I would like to see more of the keep." He did not ask Eragon any questions but merely nodded and left carrying the chest in his hands with great care. Eragon took one more look about the treasury and left as well leaving the remains of the door on the ground. Rather than leave, he navigated his way about the keep remembering the hallways he often walked about. Turning down a familiar hallway, he made his way to a particular door.

Taking in a deep breath, Eragon pushed the door open to find the chambers in which he once sleep the same as he'd left it. Walking inside, Eragon glanced at the large bed in the center of the room and saw the ghost of an injured Arya sleeping on the mattress. It was odd to think that it was here that he met her. He snorted slightly as he remembered how startled she was when he undressed her to heal her back. He did not take notice of her body back then but now that he had seen her entirely, he wondered what the past Eragon would have thought if he was told that he would be mated to the elf he was saving.

His past self would no doubt snort and wave away his comment.

Staring at the bed for a long moment, Eragon left the chambers and made his way down to the dungeons. As he stood in the dark and damp dungeon, Eragon took in the whips and torture mechanisms that littered the room. He saw the post where Arya used to be tied. Walking over to the wooden post he snapped it in half with a simple kick. As much as he never liked Gil'ead, he could not deny that this was where his life started.

This was where he met Arya.

This was where he was saved by her.

Standing in the dungeons for a moment longer, Eragon left. He was going to have to see if he could burn the place down. Then again, Queen Islanzadí may not like it for him to set the entire keep on fire thought Eragon as he emerged out into the courtyard the sun beating down on him. He found Saphira waiting for him and he could feel her immense joy. No doubt due to the fact that they had managed to retrieve four Eldunarí from Galbatorix. But they might be crazed thought Eragon. They were used by Galbatorix for nearly a century.

He stared out at the courtyard stained with blood and littered with bodies. _We still have a long way to go, _thought Eragon as he took in the sight of smoke. He could hear the sounds of the aftermath of battle and there was a deep sorrow in the air as the citizens of the Empire laid their eyes on their loved ones and their city.

_When we left we always knew that it was not going to be a simple journey, _said Saphira her blue eyes sparkling. _There will be more battles waiting to greet us. Are you not daunted by that thought?_

He snorted. _Never, I have you Saphira, Arya, and the others. What is there to fear when we are not together? _

She didn't say anything but merely arched her neck upwards, letting the sun beat down on her armor and sapphire blue scales. Eragon stretched slightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

_It is a new day._

**I can't believe this story is near 300k words. That is just crazy in my opinion. I started off near the end of Eragon and now this is the end of Brisingr. I thought that for a moment I would give myself a one day break to just realize. I'm still thinking about it so you may or may not see an update tomorrow. Anyways I'll like to thank all of you loyal readers for always reading my chapters that I post and that this story isn't forgotten. Anyways, I hope to see you all soon. And before I leave let me leave one question: if ExA had a kid-boy or girl? I'm just curious as to what you all think. Anyways, see you all! Hopefully your summer is going great. (As always I try to revise the chapter but I'm sure there are still mistakes.) **


	70. Chapter 66

Chapter 66

**I really didn't feel like updating today. My back hurt for some odd reason and I nearly fell asleep at my computer. I find myself being distracted lately now. Not doing anything but merely thinking. And I want to address a point here, I'm always open to your suggestions but I cannot always weave in the things suggested. (Not that I don't want to but it gets confusing some times O.o) If I do I tend to get lost in what I was originally trying to write. Anyways, this is more of a filler, history lesson type chapter since we are now starting in on Inheritance. Within a few more weeks and I shall be done! Anyways R&R! **

Feeling as if his mind was about to explode, Eragon felt himself being thrown back violently into himself. He panted slightly from exertion as if he had run a mile. Oromis and Islanzadí appeared just as exhausted as he was. Outside of the tent, he could hear Saphira shaking her head as if to clear her mind. On top of the folding table was one of the Eldunarí they had rescued from Galbatorix. After Islanzadí firmly sorted out Gil'ead, Oromis called her to meet him in his tent away from the main body of the elven army. Eragon was also called out to meet the two leaving his reminiscing of the city for another day. He rubbed his temple feeling a pounding ache in his head.

For the past hour, the three of them as well as Saphira and Glaedr have been trying their best to make contact with one of the Eldunarí. Queen Islanzadí settled for trying to communicate with the violet colored Eldunarí. The only problem was that the Eldunarí was young and after a century of abuse from Galbatorix the dragon's mind had become twisted with madness. Madness to the point that the dragon could not remember its own name. No matter how hard they tried, the turmoil in the dragon's mind made it impossible for them to speak to it. The feeling was odd thought Eragon tiredly. There was no coherent thought in the dragon's mind, it was everything and at the same time nothing.

"It cannot distinguish friend from foe," said Eragon as they gazed down on one of the four eggs before them. He glanced at Oromis and Islanzadí wondering how they planned to continue. So far, nothing they had tried reached the dragon. If they continued, they were going to exhaust themselves. Islanzadí stepped forward and reached out to let her hands hover about the stone.

"Galbatorix have broke them," said Islanzadí in a low whisper. Eragon glanced away slightly regretful. When he served underneath Galbatorix, he knew about the existence of the Eldunarí and was offered to take a few to serve him. However, Eragon had refused. Not because Saphira adamantly refused to let a rider who abused her kin fly with her but because he could not bring himself to stoop as low as Galbatorix. Yet the man was the most powerful person in Alagaësia.

"We should not continue at the moment," said Oromis brows furrowed. "It has only been but a few moments since they were freed from their captivity. We must let them in peace. If enough time has passed they shall become curious as to why Galbatorix is not in their presence. It is a stem of hope for us that they come to this realization before we march on Urû'baen."

"Yes," Islanzadí withdrew her hands slowly. Her early blood stained visage was now gone and she once more looked like the regal queen that she was. Her golden armor sparkled leaving no evidence of the crimson hue that stained it earlier. "It is for the best. You have done us a great deed Eragon Shadeslayer by saving these hatchlings."

Eragon inclined his head accepting her thanks. She accepted his silence as a reply and nodded. The three of them stood in silence each in their own thoughts. Outside of the tent, the puffs of air from Saphira and Glaedr could be heard. A long moment passed and Eragon was resigned to merely sit and wait for either Islanzadí and Oromis to speak until a thought occurred to him. It had been forming in the back of his mind but he was not able to give it words until now. His eyes darted over to Oromis. The elf was staring at the Eldunarí on the table with sad eyes.

"Do you know them Master Oromis?" asked Eragon. Oromis blinked startled as if he was not expecting anyone to speak so soon. He turned to Eragon his eyes holding a great depth of sadness. He did not mean to upset Oromis but it appeared that he did.

"As part of the Elders, I did know them," said Oromis he took a seat on one of the stools arranged in his room and gestured for Eragon to do so. Eragon did. He expected that Islanzadí would take her leave but she picked up the violet stone and tucked it away in the chest they found in the treasury earlier. Locking it, she carried it with her about the table, her red cape sweeping the floor. Placing it on Oromis's cot, Islanzadí seated herself on the cot. Of course she would get the cot thought Eragon amused. He could hear Saphira's laughter in his mind. He waited for Oromis to start. He appeared to be gathering himself for a rather lengthy story. _Elders, _Eragon remembered when he was younger a vague speech that Galbatorix told him about the Order of Dragon Riders. What did he say about them? That they were senile and too comfortable with their powers? Yes, that sounded very much like the dark king he was educated by.

"The Elders," began Oromis his voice steady. Eragon snapped his attention back to his teacher waiting for him to being. "Was a council of aged Dragon Riders, we were those with wisdom and knowledge. At least that was what I believed we were."

Now that Eragon thought about it he had rarely heard word of the Elders. Galbatorix spoke about them as aged old wind bags with nothing better to do than lord over others. And even while Oromis was teaching him, the Elders were only mentioned in passing. "Were the Elders and the leaders of the Dragon Rider the same?"

Oromis shook his head, "No, when the Order of the Riders were first formed it was best that there would be two different systems: the elders and the leaders of the riders. When Bid'daum hatched for Eragon, the two became the first Dragon Rider in Alagaësia. After seeing the creation of a new bond between Bid'daum and Eragon, the leaders of each race had started to abandon weapons for a more peaceful form of cooperation. And thus the Dragon Riders were created. Queen Tamunora with the help of Eragon forged a pact with the dragons in which dragon eggs would be given to the elves and then hatch for one that it deemed fit to be its rider."

Queen Tamunora, Eragon heard about her before in his studies in Ellesmeŕa. Whatever became of her he did not know. All he knew about the line of monarchs was from Queen Dellanir and on. She was the ruler of Du Weldenvarden before King Evandar. Dellanir had helped to add humans into the pact between the dragons and elves with the assistance of the leader of the Dragon Riders at the time, Anurin. He had heard that she abdicated her throne to study the mysteries of magic. Then Evandar took up the post of king.

"As the eggs began to hatch, it was clear to Eragon and Queen Tamunora that an order must be created to overlook the dragons and their riders for their forces combined are greater than an elf or dragon alone. In order to prevent these young riders to sow misery into the land of Alagaësia, for they were still new to their powers, the Order of the Riders was created. It was suggested that there be two systems in place to prevent an imbalance in the order: the leaders and the Elders. The leaders would stand at the forefront of the order and maintain the peace and prosperity of Alagaësia. The Elders were given the task of educating the new riders in order to prevent them from running astray. It was this that dual system that was made to prevent one from having too much power over the other. A system such as this would have been maintained for centuries had there not been the possibility of betrayal."

"Never had we considered that one of our own would turn against us," said Oromis with a pained expression. "It could be that we were so confident in our teachings or in our power but we never suspected that our very downfall would be by one of our own. Galbatorix was young at the time just like you Eragon when he foolishly attempted to test his bravery against the Urgals in the Spine, there his dragon, Jarnunvösk, was killed. I consider myself very fortunate Eragon that Glaedr and I were able to escape the tragedy of Doru Araeba. When one's dragon is killed or one's rider is killed, the pain that is felt is unbearable. An emptiness as cold as ice will appear for then they will no longer be connected—the dragon and rider. The pain of losing your dragon or rider can drive one insane. Galbatorix was young and he was driven towards the edge of madness."

"My father lost his dragon, Saphira, while he was fighting didn't he?" asked Eragon. He remembered hearing from his mother that he and his father shared a dragon named Saphira.

Oromis nodded, "In a battle on Vroengard, Saphira was killed. The loss of her drove Brom mad. Angered that his bonded partner in life was killed he sought the downfall of Galbatorix and the Forsworn, particularly Morzan. Do you know why Eragon?" This was something Murtagh had yet to tell Eragon or maybe Brom never told Murtagh. Curious, Eragon shook his head. Oromis's eyes darted to Queen Islanzadí. She was unmoving on the cot as she listened to the story. Eragon was not sure that she heard of what had happened between Morzan and Brom but she made no move to leave.

"I was never told," Eragon answered Oromis's question.

"It is not my place to tell you the history behind the man that is your father but I shall say this, Brom was young when he joined the Order and when he met Morzan. He idolized him. Morzan was above all in his eyes and he followed him about doing what was asked of him. However, after Saphira was killed. Brom blamed Morzan and soon sought his destruction," said Oromis. "His anger and hate drove him to create the Varden and forge alliances between the Varden and the dwarves. He killed three of the Forsworn, including Morzan, and orchestrated the deaths of five others. He went to such lengths to steal one of the three remaining eggs from Galbatorix. That was the extent of his grief Eragon. It was a grief that plagued him for nigh on a century. While Brom sought to channel his anger and sorrow into avenging Saphira, Galbatorix could not."

"He told me that you were the one to convince the other elders to deny him a second dragon," recalled Eragon from his conversation with Galbatorix during his battle with him earlier. Oromis's expression deepened as Islanzadí's lips thinned.

Oromis fell silent before nodding, "Galbatorix came to us on his knees begging us to give him another dragon. The grief from the loss of Jarnunvösk drove him to madness. He believed that forming a bond with another dragon would lessen the loss. I was ill at ease with how he appeared before us, desperate with a half crazed look in his eyes. The other Elders saw nothing of it and was about to grant Galbatorix another egg to heal his loss. I spoke out against it and another answer was put forth and Galbatorix was denied a second egg. His madness at the loss of his dragon soon changed as hatred for the order. He saw our denial as an act of vengeance against him. In retaliation Galbatorix, with the help of Morzan, who will later become the first of the thirteen Forsworn, stole an egg from us. The dragon in the egg was forced to hatch for him and would later be twisted to serve him. That dragon was and is Shruikan."

"With his band of Forsworn, Galbatorix attacked Doru Araeba and during the battle the Order of the Dragon Riders was horribly crippled," said Oromis. A shadow passed over his teacher's face and Eragon could tell that Oromis was reliving what had happened during the battle. "Many of our companions were killed on the Island of Vroengard particularly these four Eldunarí." Oromis gestured to the chest by Islanzadí with sad eyes. "They were but hatchlings and their riders have yet to learn the role of a dragon rider. The young ones fell easier than us. They're riders slain, Galbatorix gouged their heart of hearts from them. The violet Eldunarí that we were trying to make contact to was Fundor. The others were still too young to be named."

"I thought their riders named them?" asked Eragon. He remembered when Saphira was named. He practically continuously threw names at her until she found one that she liked. Oromis shook his head.

"Dragons often choose their own name once they are old enough to understand the concept of a name and its meaning," said Oromis he glanced at Saphira's shadow as if interested by something but continued, "A perversion to this tradition was when Galbatorix named Shruikan. He did not let his dragon choose his own name for then that would mean giving Shruikan the freedom to shape his own self. Remember Eragon that a name carries great weight."

Eragon full well knew that Oromis was referring to the concept of a true name. Everyone had a true name or so Eragon was led to believe. He had never made an attempt to know his own true name. It never meant much to him. However, now that he thought about it. What was his true name? Did he even have one yet? He knew that Saphira did not make a great enough of an attempt to divulge her own true name. His eyes wandered to Islanzadí and Oromis, he had no doubt that they knew their own true names. Did he even want to know his? The thought played about in his head for a long time as Oromis continued.

"By denying Shruikan the right to choose his own name, he denied Shruikan his freedom therefore bounding himself to Galbatorix," said Oromis. His eyes wandered to the chest. "The Eldunarí within that chest physically died on Vroengard after their riders were slain before their very eyes. They would have no doubt killed themselves had it not been for Galbatorix and his Forsworn. If I am correct to assume so, when the dragons were slain he would take their heart of hearts for his own and now every Eldunarí in his possession are the very dragons they'd slain on Vroengard."

It was a miracle than thought Eragon how Glaedr and Oromis managed to escape such an onslaught. The leader of the dragon riders then, Vrael, was killed in his hesitation. He could have killed Galbatorix thought Eragon and be rid of him. However he did hesitated to do so and because of that was injured. In order to ensure his reign, Galbatorix hunted down Vrael and killed him. "If it is not any offense to ask this but how did you and Glaedr escape Vroengard?" asked Eragon curiously. He did not mention the two names that Galbatorix spoke to him about: Kialandí and Formora.

The atmosphere in the tent was tense as the words left Eragon's mouth and he was not sure whether or not he regretted asking. Oromis remained silent for a long moment and when Eragon thought he wasn't going to answer, the elf spoke, "As I was flying out with Glaedr, two of the Forsworn Kialandí and Formora created a magic circle to trap Glaedr and myself," he heard a low rumble outside as Glaedr listened to the story. "The two of them did not kill me immediately but rather sought to _punish _me for leading the Elders in denying Galbatorix a second egg. When I had thought they would kill me, Glaedr's will broke the magic trapping us. He threw Kialandí back and impaled him on the spike of his dragon nearly killing the Forsworn. When he made to escape, Formora injured him and sliced off his front leg."

"Wasn't Formora an elf?" asked Eragon curiously at his words Islanzadí's expression tightened as if he had unknowingly stepped on a sensitive boundary. Oromis nodded looking ashamed of himself.

"That she was," said Oromis, "I can only assume that Galbatorix's words of persuasion won her over. You see Eragon, Galbatorix was and still is a gifted orator. He understands that it does not take war to move a people but words. That therein makes him a dangerous opponent." Like Elva thought Eragon warily as his mind wandered to the silver-tongued girl.

"She has shamed us," his eyes darted to Islanzadí, who was looking anywhere but Eragon and Oromis, as if the shame of an elf becoming an Forsworn was too great for her. It must have shocked them thought Eragon to see their own kind take part in the betrayal.

"We were too weak to participate in the last battle of The Fall," said Oromis his eyes wandering to Islanzadí. She did not move and Eragon was worried that the elf queen may have forgotten to breathe. "King Evandar marched with our forces and the last of the free riders on Iliera. Brom having recovered from the battle on Vroengard joined him on the last stand against Galbatorix. There the last of our riders were slain as well as King Evandar. When we lost the battle, we withdrew to Du Weldenvarden and hid waiting for an opportune moment to come for us to once show ourselves to the world. A century passed before fate decided to grace us with your presence. Now we have three young and whole riders fighting for us: you, Murtagh, and Arya."

Eragon saw Islanzadí stiffen at the mention of her daughter. She was worried for her daughter thought Eragon. She had already lost a mate to Galbatorix, the possibility of losing Arya was no doubt a dark thought that plagued her mind.

Oromis paused, his eyes wandered to the chest once more before he sighed, "It will take time for them to recover if at all but it pains me to see such young Eldunarí twisted to such an extent," he fell silent, done with his story. Once more no one dared to speak, sinking deeply into their own thoughts. Then Oromis's eyes returned to Eragon. "What will you do now Eragon?"

Taken by surprise, it took Eragon a moment to gather his thoughts. "Now that the siege of Gil'ead is won, I would like to return to the Varden," said Eragon. He was hesitant in his decision. He wanted to be reunited with the people he loved but he felt reluctant to leave the defenseless Eldunarí. Oromis saw his dilemma and turned to Islanzadí.

"I do not see the harm in you taking one with you," said Oromis surprising Eragon. He had thought that Islanzadí and Oromis would want the Eldunarí close by for safeguarding. When Eragon expressed his thoughts Oromis nodded, "It is true. I do not wish to part with such a young minded Eldunarí after having just rescued it but it may be for the best. Giving it distance away from Urû'baen may ease its mind. There will also be Thorn, Eridor, and Saphira there to safe guard and give it company."

"Which Eldunarí will I be taking?"

Oromis was thoughtful, "Fundor is the oldest of the four. It will be easier for you to try and communicate with him as compared to the other three." Eragon nodded, that seemed a fair enough logic to follow.

"May I Your Majesty?" asked Eragon waiting for Queen Islanzadí's approval. She turned to him with an impassive expression. Holding her gaze he waited for her to say something. After a few moments, she nodded.

"I can see no reason to deny you," replied Islanzadí. He had hoped that she would say as much. After another long moment of silence, she stood turning to Eragon. "I will have some of my warriors prepare you for your journey back to the Varden. When do you plan on leaving Shur'tugal?"

"Early morn," Eragon answered her. She nodded, her brows furrowed.

"Very well, I shall have your saddle and bags supplied and such on the southern front of our encampment," her eyes traveled down to the chest in her hands, "I shall meet you for your departure with Fundor." With that she swept the flap of the tent aside easily and left her guards posted outside falling into formation behind her. Eragon watched her leave his mind calling out to Saphira, who had up to this point, remained silent.

_Queen Islanzadí does not seem herself, _Eragon observed.

_It must be the constant talk of King Evandar. I heard that his body was lost in the battle, _said Saphira after a long moment. She was feeling rather upset. He could only think that it was the Eldunarí that upset her. _To have to lose their riders when they were so young…It reminds me of the time when we were separated. That feeling was horrible. I cannot even imagine the pain a dragon goes through when their rider is forever lost to them. _

_Saphira…_

_If you died, I do not think I will have the will to continue living without you, _her words shocked him. He was about to scold her until he thought of himself. If Saphira died would he continue on without her? He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. No, Saphira was not going to die. There was no need to think of such things.

He turned back to Oromis, he was walking about his tent grabbing two cups and a wineskin. "Master Oromis," Eragon called out to him. His teacher remained quiet but Eragon could see a difference in his posture showing that he had heard him. "Has any other rider lost their dragon that you knew of?"

Oromis nodded, "There were plenty during the great battle a hundred years ago. However there may be one more whose rage was greater than Galbatorix and Brom. During the battle on Vroengard, there was an elf by the name of Thuviel who was assisting us in fending off the Forsworn. His dragon died and he no longer wanted to continue living. That was why during the battle on Vroengard, he killed himself with magic. Whether by design or by accident has never been clear. But I can only think that if it was by accident that Thuviel did not regret it for he loved his dragon dearly."

"How did he kill himself?" asked Eragon curiously as Oromis placed a cup in his hands pouring an amber color liquid from his wineskin into the cup for Eragon.

"He converted his flesh to magic," said Oromis pouring himself a cup. Eragon took a drink immediately recognizing the sweet nectar like taste. It was faelnirv, an elven liqueur. "The result was that a great explosion shook the island of Vroengard poisoning the island. Now, the island has become twisted with life that is not meant to be and that is no doubt evil." Eragon took another long drink from his cup emptying the cup altogether. He was sure he was never drunk before thought Eragon as he continued to drink with Oromis. It seemed like his master was deeply suffering after he saw the state of the Eldunarí and how they were unable to make contact with the soul of the dragon resting inside. It was a sad thing to forget one's own name. Eragon sighed as he felt his body become warm by the faelnirv. His mind was starting to buzz slightly.

He was sure he was not drunk. He remembered seeing Saphira drunk on dwarvish mead before and she nearly destroyed the banquet hall they were dining in. He had seen Thorn just as drunk as Saphira. The ruby dragon had tried to stand on his hind legs and collapsed nearly crushing a hundred people. He had seen Murtagh drunk before and his half-brother passed out cold on the floor without a care in the world. But Eragon was never drunk. He just did not want to risk his image if he ever let liqueur have the best of him. Come to think of it, he had never seen an elf drunk either. Even during the Agaetí Blödhren he did not see one elf drunk. He remember merry dancing and singing. It seemed that when elves drank liqueur they merely appeared to be unwinding themselves. Unlike when humans or dwarves became drunk, elves did not become sluggish nor provocative. Eragon was sure that when drunk he would be neither.

The two of them, master and student, spent a great time merely speaking to each other. They conversed about the battle for Gil'ead, about the years before the fall of the riders, and about life in general. Eragon could not remember more of the conversation but he was positive that there was nothing of importance besides mere conversation between the two of them.

"Are you intoxicated?" Arya was staring at him from the mirror situated in the tent that the elves let him stay in during his time with them. He folded his arms across his chest feeling rather well. No, he felt better than well, he felt rejuvenated in mind and body. Currently he was speaking with Arya about the conditions at Feinster and relaying to her the ongoing events in Gil'ead. After they had heard each other's stories Arya was going to turn the two way contact over to Nasuada for him to give her his rather informal report at the moment.

Eragon frowned. "That I am not," answered Eragon. She raised a brow looking as if she did not believe a word he said. Then she asked him once more in the ancient language. He opened his mouth to reply to her surprised to find the words stuck on his tongue refusing to come out. As if satisfied that she was indeed correct Arya snorted.

"You are intoxicated," said Arya. She had been telling him about the battle of Feinster until it she noticed his condition. "Would you like a moment to gather your wits before we continue? Perhaps you can ask Oromis or another elf to give you a drink to clear your mind."

"I refused," said Eragon surprising her. "I do not need a drink to clear my mind. I am perfectly capable of holding a conversation as I am now."

_How stubborn you are, _commented Saphira in his head. Arya looked torn between humor and disapproval but she did not say anything about his stubbornness and continued. That could only mean that he was going to hear about it when he returned to the Varden thought Eragon unsure of whether or not he should feel happy or regretful. "In any case, I thought it was only fitting to let Nasuada as well as Blödhgarm and the others to know about the Eldunarí. Seeing as Glaedr entrusted his Eldunarí to Murtagh for safe keeping it is only fair."

Eragon frowned rubbing his temple feeling a slight ache but he ignored it, "Are you upset that he did not entrust his Eldunarí to you?" asked Arya mistaking his frown as a result of her words. He blinked and shook his head.

"No, I just have a slight headache," said Eragon honestly. He straightened, focusing his thoughts, "In any case, that is good to know for I have to tell Nasuada about what has happened in Gil'ead and it pertains to the Eldunarí. Is she there?" Arya nodded, she looked reluctant to leave but she knew that he had a duty to his liege lord first and foremost when he returned to the Varden he would tell her everything that had happened.

She disappeared and a minute passed before Nasuada settled before the mirror facing Eragon. She studied Eragon for a long moment before smiling, "It is heartening to see that you are well, I had heard whispers that the siege for Gil'ead was fierce."

"That it was," agreed Eragon with a slight nod. "How are you Nasuada? Arya has told me that you managed to settle matters concerning Feinster."

"Yes, with the cooperation of Lady Lorana. She could not go against Galbatorix directly but we managed to find ways about her oath," Nasuada stared at him for a long moment, "She claims that she has met you before Eragon, when you were Gabranth." He nodded, "In any case, without her assistance we would have spent many days trying to bring order about Feinster. I take it that Arya has told you about the battle for Feinster?"

"In as much detail as she could," said Eragon. Nasuada nodded. "You were informed about Glaedr and Oromis as well as the Eldunarí by Arya." He did not say it as a question but as a statement for she nodded. Before she could open her mouth to answer, Eragon turned away feeling his chest heave. He coughed violently into the crook of his elbow, after a moment he turned back to Nasuada apologetic. "Sorry."

She merely shook her head with an amused look, "I was warned that you were somewhat under the influence at the moment."

_Somewhat? Completely, _corrected Saphira in Eragon's thoughts. He merely poked at her mentally before he turned his attention back to Nasuada as she spoke, "But yes, I was told by Arya and later Murtagh about your teachers and about the Eldunarí. Though it irked me to be kept in the dark, I understand the weight of such a secret if it became common news, who knows what other greedy magician would seek the dragons merely for their Eldunarí? In any case, this certainly does shed light on how and where Galbatorix is getting his strength. Now what news have you for me during your service to Islanzadí at Gil'ead, Eragon?"

He described to her in detail of what transpired at Gil'ead. She was surprised to hear of how Galbatorix took control of Jeremiah's body but remained quiet until he reached the end of his report. All while he spoke, Nasuada made curious expressions her fingers tapping against the table that the mirror rest on. When he was done and had finished telling her that he was leaving for the Varden by morn with Fundor, she spoke. "You were right," she said simply. He raised a brow waiting for her to elaborate. "I must admit that I was doubtful that your presence at Gil'ead would do much to help the elves since they are so strong a race but I was wrong. You managed to keep another rider safe and retrieve four Eldunarí. That thinking is for a leader Eragon."

"I am still far from being the leader that I should be," said Eragon. She nodded. Her earlier tapping on the table stopped, her fingers pausing.

"Will you be able to help the Eldunarí?" asked Nasuada.

"I will try as well as the others I am sure but I cannot guarantee that we will make progress anytime soon," said Eragon. She nodded once more. Quiet for a moment, Eragon waited for her to speak. She stared at him studying him for a moment.

"In any case, you did us a good service Eragon," said Nasuada, "I will await for your arrival. You should rest, you have worked hard. And I am sure that you are having quite the trouble focusing on politics at the moment."

"Of course my lady," Eragon bowed to her.

**This chapter surprisingly was difficult. I could barely remember any of the details from Inheritance. I'm not sure if it's because my mind has suppressed the memories of the book or because I'm so focused on this story that I just started to forget what actually happened. Anyways, I had to go reread a few chapters to familiarize myself once more with the book. I hope you all like it. And I would like to thank the reviewer who told me about the interview CP had regarding possible ExA in his other works. I'm holding out hope that CP won't disappoint once again. Lately I feel like you all have been deprived of ExA so I shall be working on their reunion! Anyways, I'll see you all soon. **


	71. Chapter 67

**Chapter 67**

**Good day everyone! This is a pretty long chapter and you're going to know why if you read all the way to the end. I shall warn you here that there is a lemon at the end. I've put warnings before it. So if it offends you/you're not old enough just skip to the bottom and you'll be safe. Anyways, this is another filler chapter in my opinion. There might be another and then the battle for Belatona. Because this chapter is ridiculously long, I shall speak less in my A/N. I do not own anything relating to the Inheritance Cycle...and R&R! **

The city of Feinster was silent in the early morning despite the great battle that tumbled through the streets three days earlier. Lady Lorana, since the defeat of the Shade, had been in the Varden's care and as such she had to abide by their terms and those who lived in Feinster had no choice but to follow. It was not because they were bound to her by their oaths but because they were devoted to Lady Lorana and her family. It was because of that devotion that they fought arduously to defend their city and accepted defeat when their Lady was escorted from the keep in the hands of Jörmundur. Though the fighting had stopped, the great hatred that those of the Empire had for the Varden did not diminish with the last of it. It only grew.

Even those in the dungeons showed their hatred. Though they were not a part of the fighting, it seemed as if they held the same regards as the rest of the Empire. Despite them being imprisoned as long as it was by their own people they would not resist, however if it was done by the Varden an up rise was undoubtedly brewing. She stood with Murtagh in the dungeons underneath the keep they had fought in during the battle for Feinster. It was a nicely kept dungeon she thought somewhat impressed. The concrete floor was smooth and the cells barely spotted any dirt as if it was cleaned often. However, the occupants within the cells were not as neat as the surroundings.

She walked by a cell easily stepping out of reach when a hand shot out from between the bars as if to grab her by the neck. The man behind the cell door was glaring at her. His gray eyes were narrowed as he glared at her no doubt wishing that she was killed in the fighting. Then he began to curse so violently and vividly that Arya had the urge to silence him with magic but she did not. She merely stared at him with an impassive expression knowing that it would only serve to anger the man even more. His cursing continued and she could see his anger continually climb as she did not react to his words, he grabbed the bars with his hands as if to rip the metal rods apart and free himself.

Akin to rabid wolf, the man growled and shook the bars of his cell. Murtagh opened his mouth but Arya shook her head. She understood how hard it was to change one's mindset. Humans may be narrowed minded but she herself was ignorant at one time. She had lived for near a century, it was not long in elf terms but it was long enough for her to see the folly in her thinking and for her to learn more about Alagaësia.

"It appears that all the prisoners in here are in here due to their own actions," observed Murtagh with narrowed eyes, his expression hard. "None have been wrongly accused and was given a chance to defend themselves before Lady Lorana."

"It is a rare to find a dungeon that lacks a wrongly convicted person," said Arya as they walked up the stairs to leave the cold dungeon. The memory of a whip coming down on her back made her lips curl into a frown. She did not want to remain in the dungeon a moment longer. The moment the oak doors closed behind them Arya felt her muscles relax. The guards stationed outside the door were from the Varden. The men bowed to them as they passed.

"Argetlam, Shadeslayer," she glanced about at her new title half thinking that they were addressing Eragon until she realized that they were speaking to her. She had forgotten momentarily that she was indeed a Shadeslayer now. She was now on even foot with Eragon. The thought made her smile slightly. Rather than exiting the keep, they twisted about and made their way up the stairs passed the chambers where they fought the Shade through another set of doors to find twelve of the Varden's guards stationed outside of the study that Nasuada had taken for herself. There were six Urgals and six men. Before they had left the Burning Plains, there were a handful of dwarves as part of Nasuada's guards but with the death of Hrothgar they had returned to Tronjheim to honor the fallen dwarf king.

They stopped when the guards immediately barred they way. She was impressed Arya had to admit as she stared at the bulking Urgals and the vigilante soldiers before her. These were Nasuada's personal guards: the Nighthawks. Though they were indeed dragon riders, Nasuada's guards were no hesitant in stopping them for the safety of their leader. "May I ask who it is that seeks an audience with Lady Nasuada?" the lead captain asked, Garven if Arya remembered him correctly. She inclined her head as Murtagh answered in a confident voice.

"Dragon Riders Murtagh and Arya," answered Murtagh not minding the formalities in the least. It was a measure of precaution and Arya had a fleeting feeling that Murtagh did not mind having to speak before a hundred soldiers as long as they guarded Nasuada. Arya had no doubt that Murtagh thought of Nasuada romantically. However, she had yet to hear of any developments between the two. Unlike Arya, Nasuada was in a critical position as the leader of the Varden. She was the tip of the spear that they were attempting to launch within the heart of the war. Nasuada could not afford to be distracted. And though she did not want to say it in order to crush Murtagh's hopes but he was a Dragon Rider and Nasuada was a human. They could never overcome the boundary of time. Nasuada was not like Angela or Rosalie in which time left them untouched.

Garven gestured for one of the soldiers to enter the study and inform Nasuada of their arrival. They waited before the guards. After a few moments, the soldier returned and nodded to Garven. The captain turned to them and sheathed his sword fully before gesturing for them to enter. Murtagh nodded and Arya merely just walked past. Behind the doors was a large study with multiple shelves of books filled with texts and scrolls. Though Arya would like to go through and see what was written in the books of Feinster, she had to suppress the urge. Despite being a warrior, she also preferred to study scholarly texts. Nasuada was sitting in the armchair behind a beautiful wooden desk. She was conversing with Rosalie and Bard. Arya and Murtagh had both learned not to be surprised at the sight of Eragon's servants appearing here and there without any contemplation. Arya eyed Rosalie. She could tell from slight observations that Blödhgarm was interested in Rosalie. There was a slight humor to their interactions thought Arya. Blödhgarm had an aroma that cloaked his body as a side effect of his wolf-elf form and because of that, he ended up attracting women like flies. When dealing with Rosalie, however, she did not spare much more than the good will of a friend to him. She spoke to Blödhgarm whenever he approached her but did not linger more than necessary. It was similar to a polite indifference.

Arya regarded the beautiful red headed woman. Like Arya, she wore clothes fit for a man but the way she held herself was like a noblewoman. When Arya first met Rosalie, it was obvious with how she followed Eragon's orders so well that the woman held affections for him. But she was not sure if Blödhgarm had managed to capture any of her interests.

"Ah, Murtagh, Arya, I hope the day finds you well?" Nasuada glanced up at them with a smile. Arya inclined her head while Murtagh nodded greeting her politely.

"As well as we should be," his blue eyes lingered on the dark-skinned leader. Arya glanced at Nasuada and was not sure whether or not the woman reacted favorably to his apparent feelings for she continued speaking.

"I was just speaking to Rosalie and Bard on how to continue our march to Belatona and then Dras-Leona. There is also the matter of Aroughs," Nasuada's brows furrowed. As her eyes darted to the desk before her which was stacked high with scrolls and reports. Aroughs was the city to the very south of the Empire. They had overlooked it in coming from Surda and marched straight to Feinster. Nasuada did not want to travel south and roundabout north for it would waste their resources but now they had their rear unguarded. If they were attacked from the south, it could turn into a pincher move on the forces of the Varden. "I cannot simply leave it as it is. It will be too dangerous for us to march north and hope that Aroughs will not send reinforcement to chase our tails."

"Send me," said Murtagh stepping forward. Nasuada's eyes flickered up to him and she shook her head.

"No, you are not my vassal Murtagh, if I were to send a rider it shall be Eragon," Nasuada straightened. She caught sight of Murtagh's expression and was pressed to explain her reasoning, "Eragon is my sworn vassal Murtagh. You despite being his brother and having pledged yourself to our cause cannot fly about freely even if it is for the Varden. The dwarves shall be joining us soon and you need to remain here until I've spoke with King Orik about any further actions regarding you. And though I would like to send Arya to aid in the capture of Aroughs, I need her here for she is still the elven ambassador. No, if I am forced to send a rider, it shall be Eragon." Nasuada's eyes flickered to Arya.

"Shall I ride to Aroughs?" asked Bard offering his services. They all glanced to him. Bard was a valuable commander. During the battle for Feinster he let his warriors through the streets with little hesitation. He knew how to inspire others to follow him and it was odd thought Arya to see someone such as Bard spend the remainder of his time cooking dinner for Selena and Brom. He was content to being a cook thought Arya as she stared at the blond haired man.

"No, you are needed here Brom," Nasuada shook her head. "I have already decided to send Brigman and a thousand of our warriors with him to see if he could take the city. I will also personally ask Trianna to pick a few of her spellcasters to join Brigman and his forces. From Feinster they shall march to Aroughs and lay siege to the city. However, I can only hope that Brigman can resolve the situation at Aroughs or I shall have to expand more time and resources into trying to guard our rear end."

Her fingers tapped against the table, she was staring at them but not seeing them in her deep concentration. After a moment, she nodded to herself. Nasuada made no move to explain her train of thought to them but turned to Murtagh and Arya, "With the matter of Aroughs aside, is there something that you needed Arya, Murtagh?"

"We checked the dungeons as you have asked and those that are locked behind cell doors deserve to be there," said Murtagh simply. Nasuada nodded. It was a simple task that she had sent them on. However, it held much meaning. By checking the dungeons and the prisoners there, Nasuada was trying to bring about fairness in the political system about Feinster. Rather, she was attempting to show to the people of the Empire that the Varden was more than traitors and unnatural creatures desiring to destroy their way of life. In order to keep up appearances of the Varden being justice bringers and liberators, they had to maintain appearances. Due to that the dragons were asked to remain outside the city for the sight of Eridor and Thorn would only serve to unnerve the citizens.

Almost all other races apart from humans in the Varden stayed outside the city walls. Unnatural creatures frightened them. Nasuada had ordered that the Urgals kept their distance except for those in her Nighthawks and though she did not ask Arya to keep out of Feinster, Arya tried her best to do so. She did not want to be turned into a symbol of hatred. Murtagh was allowed to walk about Feinster exploring but it often caused trouble for wherever he went his twelve guards followed him. Mothers would close their windows at the sight of them walking down the street, children were not allowed out of their homes, and the men would glare and those brave enough would curse at them.

"Good, I apologize for putting the two of you to work such as I have but it is needed to ease the tension in Feinster," said Nasuada. She glanced at Arya and Murtagh her eyes darting to the door. Just outside, Arya knew that Blödhgarm and the others were waiting. "Have any of the citizens done to offend the both of you and your companions?"

"Nay," Murtagh shook his head though his voice sounded slightly strained.

"It is only natural," said Rosalie for the first time since they had entered the study. "They fear what they do not understand." Her green eyes held a depth to them as she glanced away. Bard rubbed his stubble looking rather downtrodden at her words.

"In any case we shall only tarry here until early morn," said Nasuada a faint smile appearing on her face, "I believe that Eragon and Saphira shall be arriving tonight if they have traveled at a timely manner. We do not want to miss them if we were to continue our march on Belatona." They spoke for a moment about the preparations for the march on Belatona before Nasuada dismissed them to return to her work. Exiting the room, Bard and Rosalie were about to depart before Murtagh called out to Rosalie. She turned to him in surprise.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Blödhgarm and the others slowly approach. "Is there something you needed from me Murtagh?" She addressed Murtagh by name. It seemed that titles were only used when referring to Selena and Eragon. Bard was waiting for her curiously and Arya was also interested as to what it was that Murtagh wanted to ask of Rosalie.

"I never had a chance to speak with you and the others even though the four of you have followed my mother and brother for quite some time," said Murtagh and Arya could see that he looked genuinely curious when it came to the servants. "If you have time could you accompany us back to the camp? I would also like to spar with you."

Rosalie regarded them for a long moment and she inclined her head, "I see no harm in that," her eyes darted to Bard, "You should go and prepare dinner for Lady Selena. Remember that her lady cannot eat fish and do not char her food like you did last time."

Bard shrugged walking away muttered 'Finny did that' underneath his breath as he did so. Murtagh gestured for them to continue. Not bothered with the presence of Rosalie, they continued to walk Blödhgarm and the rest following behind him. "Have you always followed my mother and brother?" asked Murtagh as they descended the stairs.

Rosalie shook her head, "No, I was traveling with Angela for some time before I met his lordship," she said. Arya was rather surprised that Rosalie had a past with Angela. The witch was a wise one amongst the elves and Arya held a great respect for her for she had saved her life back in Tronjheim. "I spent a great deal of time following Angela, with her I learned a great deal about magic and such."

"Do you ever get irritated by her? She never answers any of my questions in a straightforward manner," said Murtagh with a slight grunt as if it annoyed him. Rosalie smiled.

"If you know how to ask her then she will be forward with you," they traveled together out of Feinster. As they emerged from the keep and out onto the streets, Arya once more felt the discrimination from the citizens there. Rosalie merely walked forward not paying any mind to the people about them as they tried their best to return to their lives before the Varden attacked. As they walked, Rosalie spoke to them about the history behind Feinster and the few times she had visited the city to settle several matters with Lady Lorana. "Of course, it was a different situation when we met Lady Lorana once more but I was rather glad that she had surrendered as she did. Lady Lorana was always a very kind person unlike the other lords."

As she spoke, Arya heard a sound coming from the wayfarer's house. It was small at first before it grew louder; she paused glancing at the door to their right. The wooden door burst open, slamming violently into the wall as a drunken man came walking out or rather stumbling out of the house. He saw them and in his drunkenness, a dark rage came onto his face as he stared at Murtagh then Arya and the elves ignoring Rosalie's presence. Heaving back, he spat on the ground before them. No one moved as the man stared at them.

"Foul demons the lot of you!" he yelled his words slurred pointing at them. Arya raised a slight brow. He was not the first one to curse them but he was the first to curse them and continue to do so due to his drinking. "You come here, you disrupt our lives. You fill our streets with the bodies of our friends and families. You have done nothing for us! Free us from Galbatorix, bah! You just want Alagaësia for your taking! You want it all for yourself!" Through his rage, Arya saw a deep grief in his eyes. He must have lost a family member or a close one in the battle thought Arya glancing away from the man. She caught Murtagh's eyes and gestured for him to move ahead. Rosalie spared the drunken man one last glance and continued.

He called for them yelling and screaming at their backs for them to acknowledge him. Attacking him out of spite would only cause to stir dissent in Feinster after Nasuada worked endlessly to reign the city in as best as she could. Arya could only wander how her mother and people were faring at Gil'ead. While Nasuada was a human, her mother and people were elves. The citizens of Gil'ead were no doubt going to see the elven army as creatures come to invade their homes. Sighing Arya rubbed her temple as they exited the gates of Feinster now guarded by men of the Varden. The Varden's camp was west to the city and was but a short walk. In the distance she could see Eridor lazing about in the Jiet River. He padded along and she remembered how small he was when he was swimming in the Gaena River when they were returning to Ellesmeŕa in her case more than his.

That seemed like it was a distant memory now.

Rather than watching Murtagh and Rosalie spar, Arya took her leave and made her way over to Eridor as he continued to wade against the currents of the river. She smiled as she took in his head above the water. She walked up to the river bank and stood there watching Eridor. _Are you enjoying yourself, Eridor? _

He did not lift his head to face her as if afraid to be distracted, _this is rather relaxing. Did you finish what it was that you had to do in Feinster? _

_As much as I could have done, _she sat down on the river bank and unlaced her boots setting them to the side. Careful not to wet her clothing, she dipped her feet into the cool water. It was nice thought Arya lazily. She took in a deep breath allowing her body to relax. The past few days she had felt rather tense and it did not help to keep the exhaustion at bay. Her duties were tiring and then there was the fact that she had to compile a formal report for her mother. She had yet to speak to her mother as a daughter should ever since the argument between them pertaining to her choice in mates. Arya refused to budge on her decision and if that meant continuing the silence between them once more so be it.

_Whether or not the two you admit it, _Eridor lifted his head higher from the water to turn to her. She watched as the water droplets fell from his scales causing rippled in the surface of the water below. _You will have to face each other soon and speak of such matters. You do not need to always be so stubborn Arya. _

_I would prefer if you would call it strong willed or steadfast, _said Arya, _stubborn has a harsh sound to it do you not think so? _

_Strong willed then, _said Eridor lightly chuckling. The vibrations of his chest caused the ripples in the water to grow. She smiled at the good mood he seemed to be in and splashed his face with her feet water as the water hit the emerald of his scales. In retaliation, he splashed her with his tail. Arya lifted her hand and whispered a spell watching as the water that was flying to her accumulated into a ball floating before her. Letting the water hover in the air before her, she released it over the river watching the water join the flow of the stream.

_I shall try to put forth my best efforts when speaking with my mother. However, I cannot say if it will end well, _said Arya promising Eridor that she would try to be open minded about her mothers. Her eyes traveled to Eridor. After the battle for Feinster, Eridor and Thorn had flown out to eat. They could not eat the livestock of the city for that would only serve to anger the citizens of Feinster. He appeared to be in good health and such. She splashed him again as she sat underneath the sun letting the warm rays bathe her in its warmth. Outside of Feinster she felt relaxed and at ease. She would be lying if she said that the discrimination from the citizens of the city did not bother her. She thought of the moment she joined the Varden and how at first they discriminated her with the same attitude as they did in Feinster. However, they were not rude due to the fact that she was the elven ambassador. It was the same in both instances.

_Seventy years…_

The first time she had ventured forth from Du Weldenvarden, she remembered the excitement she felt. She remembered the anxiety to leave the protection of the lush pine trees. Most of all, she remembered the fear she harbored in her heart to go outside of a world that she knew and venture into the unknown. She was young at the time barely twenty years had passed since she was born and she decided to become an ambassador for her mother. She had heard word that the elves needed an ambassador to travel to the Varden and make sure that their best interests were not overlooked. There had been long discussions about who was to be chosen to become the ambassador. She thought about the opportunity to leave Du Weldenvarden and she took the chance. A decision such as hers would have taken others months if not years to contemplate. She was unsure whether or not it was her youth or her desire to leave Du Weldenvarden but she made her decision shortly after she heard about the need of an ambassador.

"_Mother, I heard that an elven ambassador is needed. I would like to become the ambassador between the Varden and the elves." _

That statement had caused for an outbreak of fierce arguments between her and her mother. Days on end they volleyed their reasons for their decisions back and forth until her mother sensed her 'strong will' behind her decision and allowed her to take the position only to be followed by banishing her from her mother's presence. She was allowed to return to her family hall but her mother would not have her in her presence like when they were younger. Sighing, Arya leaned back on her hands staring up at the blue sky.

"_You desire to leave Du Weldenvarden as our ambassador Arya and as the Queen of Du Weldenvarden I shall grant you leave from your position to do so. However," her mother's tone grew cold and she heard a quiver of slight pain as Arya knelt before her and her throne. She tilted her head up to watch her mother stand swiftly staring down at her with impassive eyes. "You have disregarded my counsel and ignored my advice. You shall have your position as ambassador Arya but you shall not have my counsel no longer. From the moment you leave my presence may you not return until I deem it so." _

Her eyes closed as her mother's words seventy years ago washed over her. Her stubbornness refused to ask for her mother's forgiveness. She was not wrong in her decision. Nor was she ignorant of her mother's feelings when she decided. It was with a pained heart that she bid her mother farewell for seventy years. Had she been a normal human, she would have died with the regret of not being able to see her mother in those seventy years. But she was not.

Days passed and with time she found herself growing used to her isolation from others. The leaders of the Varden died one by one the title replaced by a new face each generation and sometimes not even a generation. She saw the horrors that her mother tried so hard to protect her from. She saw those who she grew to admire assassinated. She saw her comrades fall like reeds in the storm. She had killed for the first time while she carried out her duties as ambassador.

And her mother would hear none of it.

The cool water flowed past her feet as Arya lips curled downwards. She tried not to think about her past often but it crept up on her like a shadow constantly coming alive in the dark of night. She felt Eridor's snout nudge her feet as her thoughts passed through his mind. His deep voice rumbled in her mind. _You have endured much Arya. _

A few years later, Glenwing had joined her as a guard while she completed her duties. Then a few decades passed before Faölin too joined her. She was happy when he made the decision to for she considered him a dear friend of hers before she left Ellesmeŕa. They had spent days together speaking of the wonders outside of Du Weldenvarden and she was positive that she harbored a great depth of emotions for Faölin. She opened her eyes slowly deep in thought. The blue sky had turned a fiery orange showing the great lengths of time that had passed as she thought. The river had become cooler. She no longer felt the piercing loneliness that she felt when Faölin was with her. Did she love him?

"_Arya, I would like to show you something," Faölin was smiling at her kindly as he stood before her outside of her chambers in Tialdari Hall. She raised a brow sending him a questioning stare but he merely smiled. She followed him to the bed of flowers. Her eyes glided over the beautiful colors as Faölin led her forward. They stopped before a bed of flowers that was not present last Arya had visited. "A gift for you." _

_She stared down at the Morning Glories and felt a great rush of feelings in her heart. She stared back at Faölin and his bright eyes. _

Shaking her head, Arya took in a deep breath her thoughts getting the best of her. Why was she suddenly thinking about this now? Usually after battles such as Feinster, her thoughts often wandered and she found herself thinking about her past more often than she should. _Is it bothering you? That you do not know how you felt then, _asked Eridor as he climbed out of the Jiet River.

_I do not know myself, _said Arya honestly. She thought she loved Faölin. She thought she was sure of how she felt. She had save one of his flowers that he had given to her in glass to preserve the beauty of its bloom. Not only that but she had also made a fairth of him in her chambers back in her family hall. Her head ached as she sat there the water now icy against her skin but she barely gave it any thought. As she thought of Faölin and how he fell from his horse her throat constricted a familiar pressure washing over her. Had he been alive would her life had gone differently? Would she still have grown to love Eragon? Her heart knew the answer even before her mind could give it words.

_You are being silly, _commented Eridor.

_I am, _admitted Arya glad to have Eridor there to steady her. Faölin would always be the good friend of hers in her past. She would never forget him or how he brought her a moment of happiness in the seventy years outside of Du Weldenvarden. He was her Morning Glory in the darkness of her past. But she had found the white rose that had allowed her to escape from the high window in the dungeons of Gil'ead.

_You certainly are poetic when you are in deep thoughts, _commented Eridor trying his best to elevate her mood. She nodded feeling a faint smile grace her lips. Just then she heard a horn sound from the Varden's camp followed by a cheer and a roar. Turning her head, Arya caught sight of a dark figure emerge from the night sky. As the figure neared the Varden, the light of the lanterns began to reveal sparkling sapphire scales. _They have returned. _

Withdrawing her feet from the river, she dried her feet and laced up her boots once more as she felt Eridor's excitement course through her. She made her way onto the saddle and strapped herself in as Eridor with leaps made his way to the Varden's camp the ground shaking beneath Eridor's weight. It was not difficult to find Saphira for Eridor could sense his mate easily. She could feel the strength of Eragon's presence that she had not felt for near two weeks. Saphira had landed on the northern front of the camp away from the tents and the people. In the dim light Arya could make out a tall figure sliding down from Saphira's saddle. There was a gleam of sapphire at the figure's waist and back. As Eridor neared Saphira, Arya undid her straps and jumped off of his saddle as he readied for the final leap which would put him directly in front of Saphira. She watched momentarily as Eridor and Saphira circled each other nipping each other in the way dragons did before they mated. Blocking out their feelings, she turned to Eragon. He walked towards her slowly and she watched as the dim light of the lanterns fell on his appearance.

Her blood pounded in her veins as the sounds of Saphira's and Eridor's biting was blocked from her ears. She saw him then. Her own feet compelled her forward to Eragon. Two weeks. It was not long in her people's term. No, two weeks was equivalent to elves could be considered a day. And yet two weeks and the events that occurred during the two weeks made it seem like it had been a year since she'd last seen Eragon. She reached forward as he soon as he was within her reach the same time he did. Her hands run over his arms stopping at his elbow and he did the same for her. The moment he touched her she felt her body involuntarily shiver. She blinked feeling her eyes sting and her heart pound. She stared up at Eragon and how beautiful he looked to her then. Her eyes traveled to his tunic, it was white. _White rose…_

He was staring at her waiting for her to say something but she couldn't find her voice to speak. Her thoughts were getting the best of her again. Eragon's smile was kind and warm as he stared down at her. "I missed you," he whispered in the ancient language. His hands glided up her arms and soon she was wrapped in his warm embrace. "I'm sorry for leaving for Gil'ead without telling you first."

"I understand now," murmured Arya resting her head against his strong chest. She could hear his heart beating steadily in his chest and the warmth of his body against hers. Reaching up, Arya wrapped her arms about his waist. "Thank you, Eragon."

He took in a deep breath his nose breathing in her scent. "Always, Arya Shadeslayer." She smiled when he addressed her with her new title. Her eyes closed as she listened to his heart beat content to just stand with him. Their time apart was difficult for her and for Eragon no doubt. She found her thoughts always wandering and felt ill at ease.

After a moment, she pulled back to study him. He was uninjured looking the same as he did when they parted ways at Farthen Dûr. Except the depth in his brown eyes had grown. Arya blinked when Eragon reached up to caress her cheek with his hand, cupping the side of her face. "Let us fight together from now on Eragon," whispered Arya as she thought of the time they spent apart constantly worried for each other. She felt his warm breath kiss her skin as he leaned down and her eyes began to slide close.

"Yes," his nose slid against hers as he kissed her upper lips once before fully meeting her lips with his. Momentarily forgetting that Eridor and Saphira were rolling about still snapping at each other in the background, Arya fisted a handful of Eragon's tunic in her hands as he returned his kiss. It was not passionate nor desperate but rather sweet and tender like the petal of a rose.

**ADDED ExA BONUS-RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT! **

"It is rather late for you to set up a tent," Arya said as she walked with Eragon, their hands intertwined through the camp to her tent. He had went and paid his respects to his family taking part in the dinner that they were having before he arrived. She felt her blood boil as she led him to where her tent was. The moment they emerged from the clusters of tent, she saw Eridor and Saphira waiting by her tent which was set aside from the main body of the camp. They were waiting for Eragon and Saphira to remove their saddles. She was distracted as she saw how Eridor was forcing himself to wait patiently for her to free him from the confines of leather that bound him. Moving forward, Arya easily undid the straps of the saddle tempted to go slow. When it was apparent that she was teasing him, Eridor snapped his jaws at her in slight annoyance. She smiled and pulled the saddle from him as Saphira took to the skies. Eridor soon followed after. The dragons circled each other for a moment before flying east towards the Jiet River.

"Well that was quick," commented Eragon. Arya set Eridor's saddle beside her tent watching as Eragon reaching into his to bull out a fine black wooden chest. Her eyes darted to the chest and she knew instantly that in it was the Eldunarí, Fundor. Having been told that the Eldunarí was unable to think clearly at the moment. She followed him into her tent Eragon entering as if it were his own. He studied her tent for a long moment before walking to a patch in a corner and crouched. Arya took a seat on her cot and began to unlace her boots as she watched him dig a whole with magic for the chest setting it inside the ground. He covered the chest with magic once more and started setting a great deal of enchantments on the patch of dirt. It was a measure of protection for the Eldunarí.

When he was done, he sat back with a sigh. "Does it bother you that you cannot speak with him?" asked Arya as she stared at Eragon's back.

"Aye, Oromis had told me that Fundor was rather young when his rider was killed in the fall," said Eragon softly. Sensing his mood, she stood her feet touching with light touches as she came to stand behind him. Kneeling, Arya wrapped her arms about his neck leaning against him.

"He will be fine as long as we give him time to recover Eragon. Being tortured for a century does not take days to undo easily, we are here to help him: you and I as well as Murtagh and the others," Arya reassured him. He nodded against her. His fresh and slightly musky scent washed over her and despite the topic of conversation, she felt her skin grow warm. "Let us leave Fundor in peace…and retire for the day. I have missed your warmth." She pressed her lips to the side of his head. Eragon shifted in her arms and soon she found herself leaning over him, her lips pressing against his. Their sweet kisses soon became heated and passionate. Eragon rose slightly pushing her to her feet. And soon enough it was Eragon who was leaning over her as they stood together their lips pressed together. As they stood together in each other's embrace, Arya pulled away when she felt a pressure against her side. The pommel of Brisingr was pressing into her.

Rapidly blinking, she did not step away from Eragon as he focused his attention of her neck. She reached with her hands to remove Brisingr from his waist placing it on the table behind her. Her eyes nearly closing when she felt his teeth against her skin, her fingers glided up his stomach to his torso and she undid the strap that circled his back to hold Vrangr. Quick despite her distracted state of mind, Arya grabbed the sword before it could hit the ground and placed that too on the table behind her. His tongue licked a path from the crook of her neck to the bottom of her ear. She shivered feeling her body flash with need. Remembering that Támerlein was still resting against her hips, she tried to step away from Eragon for a moment finding it difficult to remove her sword since he was pressed against her. However, the moment she took a step back, Eragon stepped with her.

"Eragon," his name left her lips in a breathy sigh, "Támerlein…I need to remove…" she trailed off when he lifted his head to kiss her again. She felt his hands against her hips before his right hand easily slid Támerlein out of its position for her waist and reached behind her to set the sword on top of his own twin blades. The moment they were free of their weapons, he reached about her once more and crushed her to his body. Not feeling any pain from his strength she responsde to him by wrapping herself about his embrace parting her lips as he parted his. She felt his tongue slid into her mouth gliding over her teeth before brushing her own tasting her as she tasted him. Her hands moved of their own accord, slipping under the hem of his tunic they glided up his stomach pulling the white fabric up. Eragon pulled away from her and hearing her silent request removed his tunic, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side. She was going to have to tell him that she preferred the color white on him. His hand behind her head, Eragon pulled her to him once more. Her hands began to occupy themselves as she traced the contours of his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. Brushing over his nipples, she smiled when she heard his growl against her lips, her hands rested on his waist before she dipped both thumbs underneath the waistline of his pants. Arya felt his response against her thigh.

Without breaking contact with her swollen lips, Eragon pressed his feet together to pulled his boots off loosening the lace as he pulled his feet through. When his feet were free of the leather boots, he kicked them to the side murmuring against her lips. He was rather impatient thought Arya amused. But her mind was cleared of all thoughts and replaced with desire when she felt Eragon ground his hips against hers. She gasped.

Her clothing suddenly felt like they were suffocating her and she was glad when Eragon broke the kiss to remove her leather top, the piece of clothing fell to the ground soon forgotten as Arya was pushed back until she hit the table behind her. She took in Eragon's swollen lips and his messy hair but what caused her desire to pulse through her was his dark brown eyes. Rather than return to her lips, he bent forward wrapped his lips about the nipple on her left breast. Immediately a moan was ripped from her throat as she reached up to wrap a hand in his hair.

"Eragon…" purred Arya tingling as he continued to devote himself to her breasts. His left hand came up to palm the nipple of her other breast. She instantly felt her desire for him climb. It was like how he first touched her chest. He kissed, licked, and ran his teeth over the sensitive body part nearly driving her insane. Unable to take anymore, she yanked Eragon back up and kissed him. Driving her tongue between his lips Arya reached forward and undid his pants pushing it over his hips. He stepped out of them and in turn reached for hers. Within a few seconds the two of them were pressing against each other without any barriers between them. It was skin upon skin, the heat of their contact turning their passion into a fiery desire. When she felt Eragon reach for her as if to lift her onto the table, Arya pulled away panting.

No, she was not going to make love to Eragon after their reunion on a table. Her eyes darted to her cot the distance was small but it seemed tremendous as she felt his hands roam her body and his hardened member pressing against her. His hand gripped her chin and she was once more lost in the throes of passion as she kissed him. Her mind made up, Arya pushed away from the table and began to lead him to her cot. Not willing to let her escape his reach, Eragon followed until the two of them tumbled onto the her cot in a tangle of limbs and moans. Lying on her back, she blinked when Eragon suddenly pulled away from her. Murmuring her protests she gripped her sheets as he kissed his way down her neck, between her breasts, down her stomach before stopping at her center. Feeling disorientated from her want, Arya stared down at Eragon as he lifted his head his eyes asking for the permission that she had already given long ago.

Settling himself between her legs, Arya watched, the sight new to her as Eragon lowered his mouth to her folds. Without warning, she felt her hips automatically buck against his face. Her panting increased. When she felt his tongue dart out to lick up the length of her folds, Arya threw her head to the side. The amount of sensations that was bombarding her was enough to make her faint. With great effort, Arya dug her heel into her cot to keep from bucking into Eragon's face as he continued to make love to her with his lips and tongue. She felt him lick her folds before his tongue entered her. Her legs trembled and unable to stop herself she bucked against his face and the moment she did, his nose pressed against her causing her to cry out. _Too much…_

The sensations were too much thought Arya as Eragon's hands came up to hold her thighs in place and prevent her from bucking her hips into him. Within time, one of her hands had reached down to keep him in place as he continued to lick and taste her. This was the most intimate action outside of their union. Never before had she ever thought she would allow someone to place his mouth on such a sensitive part of her body. And yet…

"Ah!" Despite Eragon's best effort, her hips bucked once more into his face as she felt his teeth graze over the bundle of nerves in her center. The feeling of being ripped from her body washed over her as her world came crashing down. Her vision flashed as she felt herself come and in the back of her mind she felt a deep pleasure to know that Eragon did not move from his position from between her legs and his tongue continued to tease her. When the last of the tremors died down, Eragon raised himself up on his arms and covered her body with his. His lips met hers and she was shocked to taste herself on him. As his hand reached down to cup her face as she leaned up to kiss him, she wrapped her legs about his waist.

Without breaking their kiss, he slid into her and the feeling of being filled once more fought its way to the forefront. He grunted against her lips when he situated himself fully within her. A moan left her lips dying in his mouth. Then he began to move against her. Unlike the first time they came together, the both of them were desperate for release. The pent up emotions over the days and the longing that came with the night drove them. She would even go as far as to say that it was wild. It was building up, she felt it as she met his every thrust with her own. His back was covered in a sheen of sweat as her hands glided up the smooth skin.

"Arya," her name was a sweet whisper on his lips and it was her undoing. Her walls came crashing down on her for the second time that night. He thrust into her a few more times before he too came. Her nails dug into his back as she cried out with abandon in the safety of the wards of her tent. Breathing heavily as their lips came together once more, she reached forward with her legs and flipped them about. It was instinct that drove her now. A primal nature of hers was coming forth. After already feeling herself lose all self control twice, she could no longer hold onto any more rational thought. She just wanted Eragon.

He laid beneath her sweaty breathing rapidly. Having come apart since she'd flipped them about, Arya sat against his taut stomach her hands resting on his chest as it raised and fell. Guilt entered her seeing Eragon breathing so hard. Leaning down, she kissed him suckling his bottom lip between hers as she pulled back. "Let me now Eragon."

Sliding back, she reached for his still hardened membrane and never breaking eye contact with him slid down onto him until her weight full rested on him. It was different when she was in control thought Arya in a haze of pleasure. So far, it had been Eragon who set the tempo and she had always danced to it for him. Now it was her turn. Moving against him, she watched his expression trying not to fall to deeply into the sensations burning her alive. He was watching her with such a powerful expression that she felt a surge of pleasure from it. As she moved atop of Eragon, he reached up to rest his hands on her hips before moving with her. When she felt herself coming close, Arya leaned forward over his body to kiss him. She heard his groan as he came once more and feeling him within her made pleasure rip through her body once more so hard that she had turned her head and bit down on his left forearm drawing blood.

As they held each other, Eragon reached forward and kissed her once more this time softly as their bodies began to calm. That was when she recognized the taste of iron on her lips. Her eyes flew open in surprise as she sat up glancing down at Eragon. Arya wince slightly at how sensitive her body was at her movement. She saw his forearm and the blood there however the wound had closed up. He saw her expression and merely smiled as he reached up and pulled her down on him sliding out of her as he did so. Not bothered by the sweat or the stickiness, the two of them were too tired to move as they settled under the covers of her sheets.

**END! YOU MAY READ ON! **

Lying against him, Arya took this moment to reexamine his bitten arm with a slight frown. The healed skin was pink against the rest of his skin. Eragon had bitten her before out of his passion but never enough to break the skin. "You turn me into something…feral. Not myself," she murmured against him. She felt the vibrations of his chuckle underneath her as his hand lazily glided up and down her back oftentimes moving lower.

"Perhaps Eridor's habits are growing on you," suggested Eragon.

"Perhaps," Arya smiled slightly. Her body still humming, she felt the grips of sleep calling for her. Tiredly blinking against his chest, she thought she could hear the roars of Saphira and Eridor as she relaxed into a restful sleep.

**Why the long lemon? Well because I feel like there aren't enough of that with ExA up and I wanted to write this one tastefully you know? And because after several chapters of being apart, I feel like ExA are probably deprived at this point. So let's give them a pretty nice reunion. News about the story, I am considering picking a beta reader so that would mean that chapters might not be updated daily so keep that in mind everyone. But I'm still considering the idea. Anyways, I believe there is nothing for me to address and nothing that I want to say. Oh, for the lemon I shall not have one (especially with so much detail) for a few chapters to let you know. Anyways, let's see each other soon! **


	72. Chapter 68

Chapter 68

**Well here is the next chapter everyone. Let's get some new developments going. Since there is nothing that jumps out as me as I'm writing this A/N. I shall keep it short. Anyways have fun reading! R&R. **

The soft trills of mockingbirds stirred her awake mixed with noise from the main body of the Varden's camp. Her mind gaining awareness as the dreams slipped away, Arya blinked against the warmth that she was resting against. The moment her senses came back to her, she felt her exhaustion return. It was early morning and Nasuada had made well on her word for the noises that Arya was hearing signaled that the Varden was preparing to organize and march. Mere hours of rest did not do enough to rejuvenate her. To add to it, her body felt sore and her limbs ached.

Not ready to leave her cot yet despite her usual rigorous schedule which involved waking at the crack of dawn and working until the middle of night, Arya turned to the man beneath her if one could call him just a man. His appearance was the same as her people, he was an elf despite being originally human. Eragon was fast asleep and it did not surprise her that he made no move to wake. He was a grumpy riser, something she was told and had experienced firsthand. A faint smile curved onto her lips as she took in his appearance. Eragon was not ugly. No, he was far from the term. Unlike Murtagh, who was transformed during the Agaetí Blödhren, Eragon did not have the rugged appearance that most humans had. His features were smooth and angled and had she not known that he was human Arya would have thought of him as a son of Du Weldenvarden.

His chestnut hair was growing messy and slightly long falling past his eyes and about his face. It gave him a tousled look. Brushing locks of his hair from his face, she studied his slanted eyes vividly seeing in her mind the warm brown underneath his eyelids. Her fingers traced the bridge of his nose admiring the straightness of it before coming to rest on his lips that were slightly open, breaths leaving and entering with every rise and fall of his chest. She shifted to continue to admire him. It was not often that she had a moment of privacy with Eragon to fully appreciate his form and even when they were alone, the two of them were too occupied with one another for her to consider studying him.

Her fingers continued to trace his smooth jaw line sliding across the skin with feather light touches. He stirred but did not wake. Bringing her finger over his strong neck, Arya paused to feel his pulse and then continued onward stopping at his chest. He was not muscular in the sense of being compared to a bear. Rather, Eragon's body was comparable to that of a wolf. His shoulders were broad and his back was angular. Her fingers spread about his chest as she felt the muscles underneath. His smooth torso ended at a trim waist that most human men could not maintain well enough. Continuing onward were his legs, smooth and strong. Shifting in his sleep once more, Arya could feel his hands against her back knowing that he was aware of her presence. The bite mark on his arms caught her eyes. Unlike Urgals, who had powerful arms banded with muscles, Eragon's arms were elegant and strong. Her hands traced up his arms returning to his shoulders.

Slim, toned, and powerful—those were the words that came to mind when she described his form which was like a rapier. Unbidden by her, a soft sigh left her lips.

Outside of her tent, the noise of the Varden continued rudely reminding her that they had no time to continue to relax. "Eragon," Arya said softly reaching for his face lightly, "You must wake. We need to prepare to march with the Varden."

His brows furrowed showing that he heard her but his eyes remained closed. Amusement washed over her. "As much as you cherish your sleep," started Arya reaching about his neck to find the sensitive spot Saphira had once shown her, "We have our duties to attend to." With that said, she pinched him slightly. His response was immediate.

Startled, he jolted slightly against her causing her to gasp. Eyes tiredly blinking open, Eragon groaned. "Is it too much to ask for a few more hours of sleep?" he muttered nuzzling his head into her neck. "I am tired after such a _reunion._"

If that was an attempt to embarrass her, she felt no such thing. Instead Arya merely smirked as she stared down at him, raising a brow, "Oh? If I remember correctly one particular Shadeslayer was not objecting to our _reunion._"

"Are you speaking for yourself?" he kissed her beneath her ear, his voice holding a teasing lilt to it. Arya shivered. His hands drifted lower, curving over bottom before resting on the back of her knees. She knew what it was that he wanted and she felt her desire rising up within her but the noises outside of her tent kept pressing on her mind.

"Eragon," trying to keep her tone strong, she felt her breath hitch when she felt him against her, her body reacting to his ministrations. "We need to prepare to leave," then she added in another breathy sigh, "And I am still somewhat sensitive from earlier."

His hands readjusted her about him as he leaned up with ease to kiss her, "I shall be quick and gentle," before she could answer, she gasped as she was pulled against him once more losing herself to the feral nature that was rising up within her. As Eragon had promised her, he was indeed quick and gentle that early morning.

Much later, Arya found herself watching Eragon with an amused smile as he washed her sheets which were dirtied from their coupling. "What I do not understand is why I have to do the laundry," muttered Eragon as he scrubbed the white sheets in the Jiet River. Earlier, the two of them had took down Arya's tent and after digging up the chest with Fundor packed everything away in her bags. When Arya saw the conditions of her sheets, she had adamantly refused to pack it with the rest of her things until it was thoroughly clean. "If _I _remember correctly, you were just as abandoned in your actions as I was."

A soft laugh bubbled in her throat and left her with ease as she leaned back against the large boulder that she sat against observing Eragon. She did not want to tease him but it seemed like it was needed, "If _I _remember correctly," Arya started with a slight smile knowing his very reaction, "It was you who caused the mess in the first place. Or rather a great majority of it."

It wasn't often that she witnessed a red faced Eragon but this was one of the very few times that she did. He blushed, his cheeks turning red. Traveling across his face she could tell the tips of ears were burning as well. He muttered something underneath his breath but continued to clean her sheets, this time with more feeling as if he had taken responsibility for them. The sight of it humored her and yet was strangely affectionate. How odd Arya thought to herself content to just sitting by the riverside watching as Eragon did domestic work.

_He really is spoiled, _she thought inwardly laughing, feeling a great mirth at the moment. _Well I was warned ahead of time. _And it was true, when they were traveling together after having first met Eragon, Saphira had warned her that he was a spoiled child. Her eyes glided back to him, _He must have never washed a single piece of cloth in his life. _

"What do we have here?" a bright voice announced its presence. Arya wanted to groan at the sound of the familiar voice. Her earlier mirth already started to diminish as she found herself staring up at the wiry haired witch Angela and at her heels as always was her devoted werecat Solembum. The cat stared at Arya for a moment then he made his way over to Eragon and leaned out to sniff the sheets in curiosity. As if to annoy her, Solembum's eyes drifted over to her and his tail twitched. All she could think of was a young boy smirking outright to her. "Our very own dragon rider domesticated by his woman? As always interesting events seems to find its way to you Eragon."

He glanced up at Angela and Arya was secretly glad that Eragon had the audacity to fight fire with fire. She, herself, could never be rude to the witch but Eragon held no caution. He often spoke his mind when he felt the need to. "I hardly find washing sheets interesting," he answered her, "If you have nothing else to say Angela, I believe Murtagh is suffering in mortal agony with the thousands of thorns that prick his skin for every answer you deny him."

"Please, it is not as serious as you make it sound," Angela waved away his comments and glanced from between Arya and Eragon. Her expression looked rather smug and knowing that Arya had to turn away least she would notice the slight mortification winning over. "Though I do not find washing sheets interesting. It is _why _you are washing them Eragon. Are you trying to _clean _them of something? I do not see anything particularly _dirty _about them. They look fairly _white._"

She knows, thought Arya as her eyes caught Eragon's. Though Arya was fighting to remain impassive Eragon merely chuckled at Angela as if he found her words amusing. For some reason, Arya had an inkling that Angela liked to unsettle her. It seemed to be a hobby of the witch. She remembered feeling the same mortification the day of Roran's wedding after Arya had awoken from the first time Eragon had touched her. Something flashed in Eragon's eyes and she felt his amusement coming off of him. Shooting him a questioning expression she watched as he shook his head.

"As you see, it is only normal to clean one's sheet every once and a while," Eragon stood pulling the white sheets from the river. He then began to twist it from end to end, squeezing every last drop of water from the cloth. "Do you not know how to wash your own laundry Angela? You _stroke_ the fabric in the water until it is _clean._ Thenjust _pull _it out and _squeeze _it for every—"

"I understand the process of washing laundry very much so," Angela cut him off looking at Eragon with narrowed eyes caught by her own game. Though Arya felt uncomfortable with their banter that was no doubt a euphemism for something very different she couldn't help but feel a slight pride at how Eragon managed to cease the witch's method of teasing.

"Do you?" he continued to tightened the twist of the sheets until it was fairly dry. Satisfied, he whispered a few words in the ancient language and the last bit of water still absorb in the fabric fell away leaving behind cleaned sheets. "Well then, what is it that you wanted to find us for? I do not think you went this far just to see me do laundry."

"I didn't but I must admit that seeing you by the riverside scrub away like a housewife is a sight to behold," said Angela with a slight smirk as Arya stood to join them. She was glad that her gait was not off despite how sore she felt. "How easily men bend to women especially when it is their loved ones."

"Have you any experience in the areas of courtship?" asked Eragon curiously. To Arya's amusement it appeared as if Eragon had unknowingly struck a nerve in the witch. Angela's eyes narrowed as she watched the Shadeslayer fold the white cloth neatly.

"Another thing you should teach him Arya," said Angela coolly as she watched Eragon neatly pack away the white sheets in Arya's bags. "Never ask a woman about her past love, it is as dangerous as the point of a sword. You will do well to remember that, when asking such a thing, it is you who are wielding that sword. You can either stab yourself in the heart with it or merely sheath it for another purpose."

"Ah," at the sound of his voice, Arya's eyes darted to him wondering what it was that he was thinking. "Well then, I believe I shall sheathe that sword for another purpose then." Glad that he had left the subject, Eragon started another, "Have you seen Elva as of late?"

At the mention of the silver tongued girl, Angela shook her head looking rather aggravated, "Ever since Murtagh has undone the curse on her, she has been free to do what she wished. It is hard to keep both eyes on her when I have to keep one eye on my work and the other on my enemies."

"Enemies?" repeated Arya curiously, "Have you crossed someone Wise One?"

"Crossed someone? Good heavens, when haven't I crossed someone? I just crossed someone on my way here," Angela answered her brightly, "Large man, he was getting his supplies ready when I crossed his path. Said a morning greeting and such. Very polite man, very much so."

Arya had forgotten that Angela liked to speak in cryptic tones, sometimes she was even worse than an elf. She amended her question, "Have you any enemies to be wary of?" at her words Angela contemplated for a moment.

"I believe I do have enemies but am I wary of them? That has yet to be seen, the last time someone sought my blood, I had made sure that that particular man could not sit correctly for some time. He became very twitchy afterwards, that's why he's such a shifty character," Arya raised a brow not asking what it was that Angela had done to the person. She had an assumption that she did not want an answer to.

"Will you tell us why it is that you've come searching for us?" asked Eragon. "Or shall we speak more about the people whom unfortunately crossed you?"

"Ah right, of course," she glanced back to the main body of the Varden which was still packing and preparing to march later in the day. "I was sent to find you by Rosalie. Selena has started experiencing labor pains—"

Almost immediately Eragon grabbed their things as well as Saphira's and Eridor's saddles hefting them over his shoulder as he made his way to the main body of the Varden. Arya caught Angela's eyes. The witch shrugged, "I was getting there. Besides you shouldn't kill the messenger but the…Ah let's leave that at that." The two of them followed Eragon, who's anxiety was rolling off of him in waves. Weaving in and out of the tents of the Varden, they could see his parent's tent in the distance already crowded with people. She saw Murtagh and the dragons already there as well as Katrina and Roran and some of the people of Carvahall. It seemed as if a crowd had already gathered for the birthing of the third child of Selena.

"Get out of my way," roughly pushing aside a villager from Carvahall, Eragon immediately dropped their things to the side of his parent's tent and turned to Bard as Arya came to a stop beside him. "Where is my mother?"

The cook opened to answer but paused as a scream came from the tent. It was a terrible sound thought Arya with a frown. Without waiting for anything, Eragon made his way to the tent only to be pulled back by Murtagh, "Rosalie and Desdemona are with mother, it is best that we do not disturb her Eragon."

He tossed Murtagh's arm aside with a glare as if daring him to stop him from entering the tent. Murtagh glanced at her. Understanding his plea, Arya reached forward and gripped Eragon by the wrist tugging him away from the tent flap. "No Eragon if you burst in now, you can possibly harm your mother," she gave him a reassuring smile, "Let me go and help, I have some experiences with this. I can ease your mother's birth pains."

He stared at her for a moment his expression very strained. Then he nodded. She gestured for Invidia and Yaela to join her. Turning to the tent, she pushed the tent flap aside to enter. The sight that greeted her was one she'd seen before albeit with different people. Sitting propped against many pillows was Eragon's mother, sweat was gleaming on her face which contorted in pain as another contraction tore through her. Rosalie and Desdemona hovered over her as Brom sat on a stool by the cot holding Selena's hand.

At the sound of their arrival, Rosalie turned to her relieved, "Ah, you are here Arya," she gestured for Arya and her companions to gather about the cot, "Do not worry Lady Selena, all shall be well." She said reassuringly to the woman. Arya stood opposite of Rosalie on the other side of the cot. Her eyes traveled to Eragon's beloved mother. She wore a gown which clung to her body and she trembled every second or so the pain of birth traveling through her limbs.

"Are you going to be giving birth naturally?" asked Arya as Desdemona began to cast spells about Selena to ease the pain. Rosalie shook her head, her forest green eyes hard as she motioned to the tent flap.

"His lordship will have our heads if we let Lady Selena suffer when magic can easily help her," Rosalie said, "If you will help us sing the child out of the womb Arya, it will ease her lady's pain and the child will be easily birthed." That was what she had hoped thought Arya as she exchanged nods with Invidia and Yaela. With their magic, they could ease the contractions of the body and help Selena push the baby out. Had it been anyone else, they would have gone about assisting in the labor in the traditional way by soaking cloth and constantly pushing the baby out. But Eragon's family was different. They were not strangers to magic and they did not harbor a great distrust for Arya's race.

"Will you consent to our help Brom?" Arya questioned the man. Though he may not be married to Selena, they considered each other husband and wife and seeing as Selena was too distracted by the pain, Brom's answer would suffice. He nodded without hesitation. "Then let us ease her pain and bring into the world the third child that fate has given to you both." Setting her hand on Selena's swollen belly, Arya began to sing to the womb letting the ancient language flow from her lips and through the air. It was a song that eased the body and called to the baby. Letting the baby know that it was in no harm, she continued to sing feeling Selena start to ease underneath her hand. After the first few verses, Yaela and Invidia soon joined in their voices mixing with hers to create a melody that was beautiful and sweet. Though the baby did not understand the ancient language, their song would let it understand that it was being born, that it needed not fight and let Selena gently bring it into the world, that they were waiting for the beautiful innocence that would soon to join them.

It was not difficult to gain the baby's trust in their song for the three of them sung with their hearts. Children were gifts given and forever cherished. Whether it is a child of her race or another, children were the epitome of beauty and innocence. There was a glow that children had that could not compare to adults. As she sung, she thought of her own life. She adored children. Whenever she came across Dusan and Alanna in Ellesmeŕa especially when they were younger, she found herself drawn into their radiance. However, she was young and have yet to learn much about herself. She doubted that she could become a mother soon. It was a dream for another century it seemed.

Time passed as they sung and soon Selena's screams died out as the words wrapped about her, soothing her in their warmth promising a swift and safe delivery. After a few moments, she heard Desdemona's gasp as well as her voice which was not haughty as it often was but excited, "The child is crowning!"

"It is for the better if you do not look Brom," said Rosalie as Arya continued to weave her song almost a soft lullaby now. Pushing with ease now, Arya heard the gasp of relief from Selena as her child left her and into Desdemona's waiting arms. Slowly wrapping up the song, she felt her heart stop when she heard a soft cry. Withdrawing her hand, she turned to Desdemona as she cleaned the baby. Desdemona smiled at Brom and Selena, her eyes bright. She could not see much of the baby except for a small hand that clenched the blanket that laid against Desdemona's in a tight fist.

"My lady," said Desdemona in a gentle voice, "Your daughter."

Arya watched as the newborn within the blanket was lowered onto her mother's chest, Selena's arms instantly came about to cradle the child to her, a single tear dropping from her eyes at the sight of her daughter. Sniffling, Rosalie went about to clean up the blood from Selena's womb with her moist towels as the proud parents stared at their baby daughter. Arya felt a smile grace her lips as the blankets were shifted about the baby to reveal a round face that was red from the birthing. There was dark fuzz on her hair and her eyes were closed. However, as Brom whispered to her she struggled to open them with much difficulty, curious to see the world about her.

"Blue eyes…" whispered Selena her voice heavy with exhaustion and filled with tears as her daughter closed her eyes once more. She was after all a newborn baby. "Your blue eyes Brom."

"Aye," his voice was thick as he stared down at their baby daughter, "And your beauty."

"You should rest Lady Selena," said Rosalie gently as she changed the sheets, covering her with a clean pair. She looked reluctant to continue but she did so, "We shall take care of your daughter while you rest. She will be here when you wake." Selena was reluctant to part from her daughter but nodded handing the baby to Rosalie to cradle as Brom repositioned the pillows about her head lowering her down on her cot to rest.

Arya stared at the child in Rosalie's arms. She ached to hold the baby as well wanting to speak to her. She was no doubt going to be a gifted child seeing as her older brothers were dragon riders, her father the Bane of the Forsworn, and her mother a Black Hand. She was going to be loved like no other thought Arya. After tucking the blankets about his wife, Brom reached for his daughter to which Rosalie handed her over to him. He stared at the baby for a long moment and Arya saw a tear fall from his piercing blue eyes as his daughter sniffled in his arm. After a moment, he turned to Arya, Invidia, and Yaela with an expression of deep gratitude.

"Thank you," whispered Brom fervently, "I do not know how to repay you for your help."

"There is no need to thank us Brom," said Arya as her eyes flickered to the baby and back to Brom's face. "It is the least we could do for a family who has provided so much for us." He nodded unable to speak. Now that their singing was done and Selena was peacefully resting with Desdemona and Rosalie caring for her, she could hear the anxiety outside of the tent as well as constant pacing that was no doubt Eragon. "I believe your sons are waiting to see their baby sister."

He appeared shocked for a moment. Gathering himself Brom nodded and led the way outside. Following him, Arya and her companions exited the tent to face a crowd that had gathered about the tent anxiously awaiting for the news of the delivery. Now there were a few new additions to the crowd. She saw Nasuada standing beside a worried Murtagh as he saw on a barrel. Her guards stood close behind to guard her. A few warriors of the Varden had come over after hearing the news of Selena's delivery. Immediately at the sight of Brom, Murtagh stood and nearly tripped in his hurry.

"Mother, is she fine?" he asked anxiously staring at the tent behind them. Brom nodded his face showing an expression of pure happiness as Murtagh stared open mouthed at the bundle in his arms. "Say hello to your baby sister, Murtagh."

"Baby sister?" he repeated faintly. Brom nodded and gingerly placed his daughter in Murtagh's arms. While Murtagh was entranced by his baby sister, Arya's eyes sought Eragon as he stood frozen unsure of what to do. Always the hesitant one thought Arya tenderly as she raised a brow at him. Discretely she twitched her fingers telling him to join them. As if his feet moved on his own, Eragon came forward as he stopped beside Murtagh. He looked as if he was in shock at the sight of the girl. As if sensing a crowd was about her, the baby's eyes opened and Arya felt her heart warm at her innocent look. She saw Eragon and then startling him, she opened her mouth and let out a cry.

"Is there something wrong with her?" asked Eragon glancing at Arya in surprise. It was clear than that Eragon had no experience with babies. Her smiled widened as he glanced back at his baby sister. When Murtagh made to hand her to Eragon he took a step back as if afraid. She gave another cry.

"She may want you to hold her," said Murtagh grinning then before Eragon could flee, the baby was place in his arms and he awkwardly had to adjust the crook of his arms to fit the baby. He stared at her as she wiggled in his arms. Arya watched as a series of emotions crossed Eragon's face. His eyes were bright and she could see that they were drawn at the corners as he fought a frown. It was rather odd thought Arya softly. Eragon appeared like he wanted to cry while the baby had yet to shed a tear no doubt due to the song that Arya and the others had sung for her. Then without warning the baby reached up with her hand as if to grip Eragon's hair only to poke him in the eye. He pulled his head back as Brom hurriedly took hold of the baby once more.

Arya made her way over to him as Yaela and Invidia rejoined Blödhgarm and the others. "She likes you," commented Arya softly as he rapidly blinked. He didn't look like he believed her. Nasuada having watched long enough came to join them.

"I can only wonder what fate has in store for your baby sister Eragon," said Nasuada with a smile staring at the baby girl as she once more blinked. "She is no doubt a treasure amongst your family now."

"What is her name?" asked Arya for Eragon seemed to lack words. All about the crowd had yet to lose their shyness and wander close to observe the baby. Brom started, shifting slightly on his feet as he cradled his newborn daughter. He stared down at his daughter from a long moment.

"We spoke about a name for quite some time," said Brom, "When had thought of plenty of names for boys but rarely any for girls. But a name that stuck to us was Ella." He repeated the name to himself one more time, "Yes, Ella."

"A beautiful name," said Nasuada as she walked forward, she placed her fingers on Ella's brow and smiled, "I wish you good fortune Ella Bromsdaughter. You have quite the inheritance." Then Murtagh came forward and blessed her causing the baby to smile widely. They stared at Eragon waiting for him to speak to her. Rather than waiting for Eragon to approach, Brom approached his son and held Ella out for him. Eragon appeared speechless. After a long moment, he whispered to her.

"May happiness follow you Ella," he pulled back as his sister's arms reached out once more for him, he was no doubt afraid of being poked in the eye once more. Arya had to chuckled softly as Brom held Ella out for her to take hold of.

"You may not be married to Eragon, Arya," said Brom kindly, "But you are family and I am sure Ella would like to see the person who helped push her into this world." Surprised and honored, Arya reached out for Ella cradling her hand against the crook of her arm. Unlike most humans, Ella rested easily into her arms and without any hesitation. She stared up at Arya without bright eyes not scared by her appearance. The baby in her arms shifted slightly her small hand coming up to take a fistful of her long ebony hair. Rather than speaking to the baby in their tongue, she spoke to Ella in the ancient language. Ella seemed to recognize her voice as one of the few that sung to her while she was in the womb.

She smiled at Ella glad that the baby girl did not squirm in discomfort or awkwardness but snuggled against her. "May you be happy," said Arya repeating a version of what Eragon said to her in the ancient language. Ella smiled widely and cried out happily in her arms. Returning Brom's child to him, she watched as one by one the crowd started forward to see the happy baby. Giving them space, Arya turned to Eragon scoffing slightly at his still stunned look.

"Are you that surprised to see you baby sister?" asked Arya with a raised brow. He blinked turning to her as Angela came up to intently study Ella. After a long moment, he shook his head folding his arm across his chest.

"More like shocked," said Eragon with a slight smile, he reached out to her and took her hands in his pulling her close, "Thank you for taking care of my mother. Though it only took a little more than half an hour, I was still worried. It calmed me to know that you were there with her." She smiled as she stared around at the others noticing some apprehensive looks on a few of the faces as they stared at Ella refusing to get closer. "They are afraid of the magic you used. Normally giving birth takes hours compared to the short time you were in there."

"I know the stories your people tell about my kind well enough," said Arya softly shifting her eyes. "Too well," she added as his hands tightened about hers. She knew Eragon wanted to say something to her words but she merely shook her head. Those stories lasted for generations and it will only take generations to undo them. She turned to watch as Brom warmly welcomed Blödhgarm and the others to greet Ella. They did so smiling at her and she smiled at them accepting them despite the strangeness of their appearance. Arya watched content as they whispered one or two words in the ancient language to Ella. When they were done, the crowd shifted for the three dragons to come forth.

Arya watched as Saphira bent down to observe Ella. The baby girl did not flinch at the sight of the sapphire dragon and just stared up at Saphira. _A strong girl, _her words echoed in their minds meaning that she had opened her thoughts to them.

_She is the daughter of one of the most sought after family in Alagaësia, _said Thorn craning his head to study Ella. To not flinch in the face of three dragons was impressive thought Arya as she stared on with the crowd waiting to see what it was that would happen. Eridor blinked as he peered down at the baby as well the three dragons forming a triangle with their heads.

_A gift from us to you, _rumbled Eridor as the tip of their snouts touched and Arya's eyes widened as a golden light emerged nearly blinding them as they leaned over Ella. A strange energy appeared wrapping about Ella cocooning her in its warmth until it disappeared. They lifted their heads as Ella let out a joyful cry. Her eyes wide, she followed along with Eragon and Murtagh as they approached Ella. Everything about the baby was normal except for a silver mark about her right wrist. Wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet was a silver lining like that of a vine on the skin.

"What is it?" asked Murtagh curiously as they stared at Ella's wrist.

_Our gift to her, _said Saphira simply her tail swaying back and forth. _A gift of beauty. _

_Strength, _added Thorn with a light huff.

_And knowledge, _Eridor finished.

They stared at Ella watching as she blinked up at them. Then Eragon turned and held out his arm addressing Bard and Finny who were standing by looking as if they were anxious to do something, "What are you two waiting for? Set the tables!"

"Of course my lord!" Arya watched as Bard and Finny hurried about to set the table. The crowd began to clear as celebrations about Ella traveled about the camp. Nasuada shook her head with a smile as she watched the everyone scrambled about.

"It seems that we shall tarry for another day here until we finally march onward," she commented as Murtagh came to her side to speak to her with a bright smile. Taken by his presence she turned to fully face him. Not commenting on them, Arya turned to find that Eragon had gone into the tent to see his mother. Unsure of what to do, she blinked when Brom walked over to her.

"Will you watch Ella for me Arya?" asked Brom holding his daughter out to her, "I would like to check up on Selena as well." She nodded taking the child for his arms to hold in hers once more. The warmth she felt was encompassing as she stared down at Ella. She rarely held a child in her arms due to the fact that not many humans were comfortable with her doing so but Ella accepted her arms as Eragon and his family did. Within time Arya was standing amongst the six females sent to guard Murtagh as they spoke to the baby. Meanwhile the others were helping with the celebration. Off to the side Murtagh and Eragon were busy building a cradle for the baby to sleep in.

As she stood there with Ella, her eyes caught Eragon's and he smiled at her. Turning her eyes back to Ella, Arya continued to softly speak to her. _Maybe one day…_

**And so Eragon and Murtagh have a younger sister named Ella. Which means 'all'. It's an important name since she will be the one to tie them all together now as a family. Now that there is a baby in the story, there might be new developments. What else? What else? Well then since this is it, I shall wrap up this short note and say that I hope to see you all soon. I can't believe I've updated so many chapters in such a short span of time. :) **


	73. Chapter 69

Chapter 69

**This chapter is another filler chapter everyone and the start of the battle for Belatona will be the next chapter. Now, there was a question about strategy when capturing the city. I've thought of one but I'm not sure if I want to write about it. Anyways apart from that, I've decided that I would start working on my spin-off for this story possibly tomorrow or on Monday. Apart from that I wish you all happy reading. R&R! **

Sitting atop a boulder along the riverbank, Eragon was rather bored as he stared out at the flowing Jiet River taking a look at the reflective blue surface of the water. He, Arya, and Murtagh—as well as the dragons and Blödhgarm and the other elves—were lounging on the bank next to the road that ran towards Belatona.

Thousands of men, Urgals, and dwarves milled about on the road in the same place they had started. The dwarves had arrived a week after the Varden had successfully taken Feinster and joined their ranks. He stretched slightly on the boulder, maybe he would take a nap in the shadows that the object casted. He would just close his eyes and sleep and then when they started moving Saphira could wake him. A loud shout drew him attention. Arguing and shouting, the Varden tried to organize itself into a cohesive unit. In addition to the ragtag blocks of warriors on foot, there was King Orrin's cavalry—a mass of prancing, snorting horses. And strung out behind the warriors was the supply train: a mile of carts and horned cattle. The noise coming from their movement annoyed him. He snorted slightly, if he was annoyed he was sure that Nasuada was losing patience for she had to direct the movement of the Varden every day.

Folding his arms across his chest, he thought about the past few weeks. His mother had given birth to Ella nearly three weeks ago. A few days after going through labor, his mother with the many concoctions that Angela gave her was back to health. He was suspicious of the many different colored drinks that the witch was feeding his mother and was about to drink some himself to see if it wasn't poisoned stopping only after Rosalie convinced him that it was best that he didn't. Later on, he found that it was a potion to stimulate the glands within the female breasts to provide the best nutrients to the baby. He had an inkling that Angela was secretly hoping he would drink that particular concoction of hers. Thinking of Ella, Eragon smiled faintly. Ever since she was born, it seemed as if his family was coming together. On a daily occasion, he and Murtagh stopped by to eat dinner with them so they could possibly see Ella and hold her. She was spoiled beyond belief thought Eragon as he thought of his baby sister. She ate the best food, slept in the arms of various people never put down, sung to in various tongues, and visited and blessed.

He thought about the gift that the dragons gave to Ella, he wasn't sure what it was exactly but Saphira had tried her best to explain what it was that they gave to his baby sister. They wanted to protect her, they wanted to shield her from the war because Eragon and Murtagh as well as Brom and their mother had given their lives to fight for the freedom of the races and save the last of the dragons. It was that feeling that they harbored when they gifted her. It was, as Saphira had said, a way to repay his family. Knowing that Ella would be protect eased his mind. She was too innocent to be tainted by the war. As he thought of Ella his eyes wandered over to Arya as she stood with the others looking for all the world as bored as he felt. She was pulled in by Ella thought Eragon not intentionally but more instinctively. It was like a distraction to her.

He didn't question it but he was worried about Arya. That too he didn't voice to her but he was waiting for her to tell him what it was that was going on through her mind. Besides it wasn't like he had anything better to do than sit on a boulder for hours and wait until the Varden marched. While he was thinking, he blinked when he smelt a floral smell near him. He turned his head to find Rosalie making her way towards where he sat.

He raised a brow at her as she stopped before him. What was she doing here? He hadn't called for her. At his stare, Rosalie immediately explained herself, "I have agreed to help Murtagh spar for the time being since we are waiting to march on to Belatona," said Rosalie when she said that he noticed that she was indeed equipped with a thin sword.

"Did Angela give you that sword?" asked Eragon curiously. He hardly trusted what Angela gave him but it appeared as if Rosalie had no problems accepting the witch's help. Then again, he had heard that she had a history with the Angela.

"She did," Rosalie answered him with a nod pulling him out of his thoughts. Eragon's eyes traveled over to Murtagh as he was busy conversing with Thorn as the red dragon laid on the riverbank lazing underneath the sun.

"Has he made any progress?" asked Eragon curious as to how well Murtagh's fighting has become. Rosalie merely inclined her head opting not to tell him. He didn't say anything for he understood her since she had been the first to follow him without question. Instead, he watched as she made her way over to Murtagh tapping him on the shoulder. Interested, Eragon turned to watch as Murtagh and Rosalie made their way to a relatively flat stretch of grass. Rosalie was not someone to be taken lightly thought Eragon as Murtagh drew Zar'roc looking rather confident in his abilities. She had decades to perfect her skills with a bow and sword. Not only that but she had determination. He had sparred with Rosalie countless times and had learned her way of fighting, adapting it for his own uses. He could not say the same for Murtagh.

"You look rather amused," Arya had made her way to stand by where he sat. Eragon glanced at her trying to discern her true feelings behind her emerald eyes. After a moment, he turned his eyes back to the sparring match.

"Murtagh should never go into battle confident that he will emerge as the victor without seeing his opponent," he said simply. Combing a hand through her hair, Rosalie with a flourish of her sword faced Murtagh lifting the blade up easily. He watched as she murmured underneath her breath no doubt dulling the edge to prevent any fatalities. The two of them bowed to each other before Murtagh began to inch his way towards Rosalie as if to flank her. It had been some time since he was able to see a good sparring match. Then abandoning all caution, Murtagh instantly ran forward his ruby blade shining in the light. Sensing his actions, Rosalie turned rapidly on the spot and then to surprise Murtagh she began to backtrack moving away from him as he kept moving towards her. Not letting him land a hit on her, she dodged from side to side often times using her elegant acrobatics to flip out of the way. She had gotten better thought Eragon as he watched them spar.

He heard Murtagh let out a yell as he swung Zar'roc down his earlier grace in battle diminishing slightly with his anger at being led about the open space by Rosalie. Rosalie was no match for Murtagh in strength thought Eragon concentrated on the match but she sought to even the field with her agility and endurance. Not only that but she knew how to keep calm when fighting and that mindset let her see the holes in Murtagh's guard. He swung again as if to knock her blade from her hand. The two blades made contact and rather than parrying the attack, Rosalie released the hilt of her blade letting the weapon fly skyward. Then before Murtagh could expect it, she had unbalanced him with a swift kick to his legs and using her arms threw him to the ground as her sword came falling downward into her hands. With a simple flick of her wrist, she held the blade to Murtagh's throat.

"The fighting style seems to resemble yours," commented Arya with a serious expression as she watched Rosalie back away from Murtagh to allow him to regain his bearings. Eragon lifted his shoulders slightly in a shrug.

"I have sparred with her quite often for the past four years. If our fighting style resembles one another's it is only natural," said Eragon. "In any case, Murtagh has to learn how to properly protect himself and close all the holes in his guard."

They continued to watch as Murtagh and Rosalie once more sparred. Out of the few matches they had, Murtagh managed to emerge victorious twice. Sitting on the boulder, Eragon sighed. It was clear to him that Murtagh needed to feel threatened enough to grasp that he should not feel too comfortable with his strength and speed. Easily jumping down from the boulder he sat on, Eragon reached up and undid the strap on his chest sliding Vrangr from his back. "Will you hold onto Vrangr for me?" Eragon asked of Arya. She didn't question him but merely nodded her hand coming out to grip the scabbard of the blade a faint smile was on her lips as if she knew what he was planning.

"Do not overextend yourself too much," taking that as a form of encouragement, he made his way over to where Rosalie stood from Murtagh ready for another bout.

"That is enough Rosalie," Eragon stopped beside her, his boots crushing the grass underneath his feet as he turned to Murtagh with a raised brow. "Let me spar with Murtagh now. You should rest and then return to my mother."

"Of course," sheathing her sword, she made her way to stand by Blödhgarm and the other eleven elves to watch the match. Now that the open space was cleared Eragon turned his attention to Murtagh as he slid Brisingr from its sheath. He twirled his sword in a half arch. Never before had he sparred with Murtagh and that was because of the resentment he had for his half brother. He was sure that others were afraid that if they pitted the two of them together, they might actually end up injuring each other like the time they wrestled with their hands out of their frustration.

"Are you up to spar with a new opponent?" asked Eragon raising his brow slightly, "I shall only use one blade and if you would like, I can give you energy to replenish the supply you used to spar with Rosalie."

As he expected, Murtagh nodded. Reaching into the belt about his waist that Oromis had gifted to him: the belt of Beloth the Wise, he found the supply of energy he stored in the gems. Extracting a decent sum of energy from the diamonds hidden in the belt, he channeled it to his half brother watching as Murtagh's stance became straight and his breathing returned to normal. Returned to how he normally was, Eragon watched as Murtagh raised Zar'roc, the ruby blade gleaming in the sunlight. In response, Eragon merely held Brisingr at his side leaving himself open to Murtagh. He may not have sparred with Murtagh before but from their interactions, he understood how his half brother acted. He was always quick to attack and defend without analyzing his opponent. He was going to draw Murtagh out and see if he could beat it into his head that he needed to pay attention. He waited as Murtagh inched forward, cautious of Eragon. He inched forward again.

Then without hesitation, Eragon leapt forward and rushed at Murtagh, as he reached Murtagh he slid on his feet on the grass and directly underneath Zar'roc. Following up with his evasive maneuver, he twisted and slammed the pommel of Brisingr into Murtagh's chest sending him flying backwards. He landed on the ground with a thud. _Well, that was quick, _said Saphira from the side as she observed them. Eragon straightened as he watched Murtagh get back to his feet with a growl after having been beaten so easily. At least he had spirit thought Eragon as he brought Brisingr up to meet Zar'roc. Not minding the challenge, he continued to spar with Murtagh. Murtagh's strength was great but Eragon was stronger and faster than Murtagh. He met his half-brother blow for blow. Twisting and jumping backwards, he dodged every blow only to jump back with double the speed and catch Murtagh by surprise.

Kicking him in the gut, he watched as Murtagh hit the ground once more. "We should rest," said Eragon as he sheathed Brisingr. "The Varden looks as if it shall move soon." He glanced at Murtagh for a moment before returning to Arya. To his surprise, she moved away from him and handed Vrangr to Blödhgarm to hold before drawing Támerlein from her sheath. He raised a brow at her as she made her way back to the open grass. Tossing her hair to the side, she beckoned to him with a finger a slight smirk on her face. Not one to ever deny her, Eragon drew Brisingr from its sheath once more and went to stand opposite her.

Bending his knees, he kept his eyes on Arya as she slinked to her left Támerlein gripped tightly in her hand. She was trying to draw him in thought Eragon with narrowed eyes as he studied her. He responded to her movements by moving right so that they could not gain on each other. She paused making Eragon pause. He did not spar with Arya often since they left Ellesmeŕa for they did not need the extra experience, however it appeared as if she wanted him to prove something to her today. Whatever it was he was going to show her and possibly understand what it was that was bothering her.

They circled each other with short, smooth steps, moving like dancers over the grass. It was intimate thought Eragon as he stared into Arya's dark emerald eyes, without blinking, without wavering, and she stared back at him with the same degree of focus and intensity. Arya initiated the first attack he met her head on. Their blades clashed sapphire against emerald as they pushed against each other. After a few seconds, Arya pulled back. She knew when it came to strength Eragon was the better. It was smart of her to retain her endurance thought Eragon as she danced away from him. He chased after her refusing to let her dance out of his reach. Their blades met as Eragon followed her, Arya pulling back and dancing away from him once more. As their swords came together, he reached out with his free hand and gripped her about the wrist trying to tug her forward and she surprised him by springing with his hand causing him to fall backwards with his own momentum acting against him. When he felt her free Támerlein, Eragon turned as they flew mid air and the two of them went tumbling to the ground refusing to let the other gain the upper hand. They rolled about the grass their swords flying from their hands. Surprised by Arya's determination, the two of them continued to roll about until they fell into the Jiet River. The cold water engulfing the both of them.

Glancing around, he saw Arya righting herself in the water beside him. She was beautiful thought Eragon as he stared at her feeling his eyes sting slightly. Still feeling his adrenaline pumping in his blood, Eragon swam towards her and gripped Arya by the wrist and pulled her towards him before roughly meeting her lips with his more air escaping their mouth. Something was bothering her and he was going to try and draw it out. She responded to him just as passionately and when they needed air they broke away bubbles escaping from their lips and rising from the water. Still holding onto her hand, he broke the surface of the water gasping as Arya came up beside him spluttering and gasping for air just as much as he was. He turned his head to her.

"Are you feeling better?" asked Eragon as she shifted her wet locks from her face, the current moving them along. Her emerald eyes caught his and she inclined her head slightly. It was an answer but not the answer he wanted. With ease, the two of them climbed out of the river and onto the ground drenched to the bone with water. Their blades laid on the grass where they had been knocked from their hands in their tumbling.

He made his way over to Brisingr and picked up the sapphire blade sheathing it as Arya sheathed Támerlein. She appeared better thought Eragon as he accepted Vrangr from Rosalie strapping his sword onto his back. Just then the horn sounded signaling for them to march. The mass that was the Varden that stretched on for more than a mile on the main road shifted creating a thunderous storm of noise as thousands of feet, carts, and cattle moved forward. He stared at the procession for a moment before turning to Arya. They did not move to join the Varden in the march since they could easily catch up with the main body with their speed.

"Has something been troubling you as of late?" asked Eragon as he stopped before her, the two of them still wet from falling into the Jiet River. He knew Arya could not deny his question. Ever since he had returned to the Varden, the two of them shared a tent together and he could tell from simply watching her that something was bothering her whether or not she meant it to. "Is it Ella?"

At the mention of his baby sister, Arya turned to him her lips curled into a slight frown. And to his surprise, he saw her cheeks were faintly red. Was she embarrassed by something? _Eragon, _he heard Saphira's laughter in his head, _all mothers are women and Arya is a women. What else could be plaguing her? _

_ Now is not the time for riddles Saphira, _responded Eragon as he stared at Arya. He could tell that she looked slightly uncomfortable. What was there to be uncomfortable with him about? They had shared the most intimate of moments together, beyond that there shouldn't be anything that was uncomfortable between them. After a long moment of staring at Arya and her turned head, realization washed through him so hard that it felt as if he was hit in the stomach by Saphira's tail. He cautiously turned her head to face him.

"Is it the idea of children Arya?" asked Eragon quietly. Her emerald eyes were wide as his words left his lips and he knew then that his guess was accurate. So she was bothered by the idea of children. Ever since Ella was born, he found Arya quietly contemplating to herself as days passed her by. Her eyes lowered to the ground.

"More or less," her answer was a low whisper as she tilted her head back to stare up at him.

"What is it about children that is bothering you?" his brows furrowed as he tried to think of the possible reason why Arya was acting rather odd for the past three weeks. She sighed, her eyes closing for a moment. Taking in a deep breath, she opened them to stare up into his brown ones.

"I find myself unable to think clearly for the past few days," _more like weeks, _thought Eragon but he did not dare say that out loud least Arya would abandon her explanation. She usually did when she was offended, "When I saw Ella…I thought about what was to become of me. There is a war going on about us Eragon, a war that we can possibly die in. And even then, after this war we have our duties to Alagaësia to perform as dragon riders—duties that can last for decades, even centuries. Our whole life will be devoted to fighting, rebuilding, and peacemaking. I'm afraid that…" She trailed off hesitantly but she didn't need to finish for he was beginning to understand what it was that she was trying to tell him.

"We can always runaway and live somewhere up north," said Eragon reminding her of his dream. She glanced up at him with a hard expression as if offended that he would even suggest such an idea but when she saw his slight smile, her expression softened.

"Running away will not solve anything," said Arya softly. "Even then I would never be able to live with myself," her hand reached up stretching over her shoulder to touch the area on her back where her yawë was. "I devoted myself to my people and now I find myself thinking of my family…or the possibility that I will never be able to have a family even after this war. You will have to take up the role as the leader of the new order of Dragon Riders and I shall have my own duties to my people and Alagaësia."

She was afraid of losing herself thought Eragon as he stared at her. When he thought he understood all there was to Arya, she always surprised him in the end. Slicking his wet hair back from his face, he let his clothes continue to drip as he smiled at her, "You will still be you Arya and even if you had devoted yourself to your people and I have my own duties as a rider, we can always find time for our dreams…" he paused feeling his face flush as he thought of his words. For the first time during their bond Eragon was acutely reminded of their difference in age. Arya was nearly a century old despite her youthful and beautiful appearance and he barely lived a fifth of her life. It was obvious that she would desire a family. "Even if that dream includes a family."

Her eyes were wide as she stared at him and than a smile that was so beautiful stretched across her face. Though Arya was an elf, she was still a woman thought Eragon as Saphira's words were tossed about in his mind. She had the same desire as every other women: to have a family. He continued feeling his face grow warm. He was not used to speaking of family, everyone knew that. To even consider himself starting his own family with Arya made his face sting even more as he tried to grasp for words in his muddled mind. He felt like he did when he first held Ella. This was alien territory and he knew that if he did not convey himself correctly Arya might react unfavorably.

"Though I doubt I shall be any good at being a…" he stopped unable to finish his sentence. The tip of his ears burned as he stared at Arya and her smile. He felt young and a boy despite the many acts that made him a man particularly the ones that involved Arya.

Seeing his slight panic, Arya reached forward to wrap her arms around his waist embracing him on the open grass. "I believe that when the time calls for it, you shall be a good father," she'd gone and said it thought Eragon never before feeling so flushed as he was then. Father? He hadn't even closed the final gap between him and Brom. How could he even consider becoming a father?

_Who knows? _Eragon's eyes darted to Saphira as she studied him and Arya with sparkling sapphire eyes, _When this war is over and everything is settled, you may find yourself desiring a daughter to dot and spoil over like who you spoil Ella. _

He refrained from replying to Saphira as Arya pulled away to study him. "We should dry ourselves else we might catch a cold," she suggested as she reached for her magic. He watched as her left palm glowed green before the water that was drenched in her clothes fell to the grass leaving her dry and looking as if she never tumbled into the Jiet River. Mimicking her, Eragon too dried himself with magic before turning to Arya.

"Is that why you sparred with me?" asked Eragon curiously feeling a growing suspicion form in the back of his mind, "To let out your frustration?" She thought about his question for a moment not offended. After a moment, she answered him.

"Part of the reason," Eragon a raised a brow at her answer. Arya elaborated, "We rarely are given the chance to cross blades nowadays. I wanted to see how I might fair against you know that we are on evening footing _Shadeslayer." _He shook his head at her. Calling the match a tie, the two of them continued to relax on the riverbank, Arya seemingly returned to norm.

He was glad thought Eragon as he studied Arya as she spoke to Murtagh. It was rare when Arya wanted something for herself. She was selfless and always devoted to the greater purpose of the Varden and her people. Duty meant everything to her. After seeing Ella, she was no doubt contemplating her personal life outside of her duties. She like every other woman desired children. Eragon was positive that it was a combination of how elves cherished children and how Arya lacked a childhood due to Galbatorix coming to power and the fall of her father. She had always been bent on vengeance thought Eragon. She had told him before that when she ferried Saphira, she hoped that one day she could become a rider. When this was over thought Eragon, she was going to devote herself to the tasks that needed her afterwards. Then when that was finished, she was no doubt going to want a family. He loved her greatly, he knew that himself in mind and heart. They were connected by their souls, the greatest evidence of their love for each other. And when the time came that Arya would want a child, he would give it to her. He was just hesitant that he would be a poor father. He lacked any experience with his own father and doubted that he could raise a child that Arya might gift him with well.

"Someone looks as if he is very deep in thought," said a bright voice startling Eragon from where he sat by the Jiet River. He glanced up to find Angela hovering over him. He stared wondering if she had come to possibly unsettle Arya anymore. It was the witch's pastime thought Eragon wryly. "Oh, don't give me that look. I have come in peace Shur'tugal."

"I find that hard to believe," snorted Eragon.

"You would think that after being with Arya for some time you would learn some mannerism from her," commented Angela lightly. He did not know what Angela did that demanded such respect from the elves but Eragon was not falling for it. Rosalie may be an old friend of hers but he was cautious and outspoken with Angela more often than not.

"Is there something you needed?" asked Eragon from where he sat, "Should you not be marching with the Varden?"

"Loosely speaking I am not a part of the Varden," Angela corrected him, "I am merely here because so far I find events rather interesting. Very much so." He could tell from her tone of voice that she was getting ready to go off in her bright stories once more. But as she opened her mouth, she caught herself, "I didn't come here to torture you Shadeslayer, I was only a guide to you."

"A guide?" he blinked noticing the figure that stood off to the side. It was Elva. He was surprised that he did not sense her chilling presence. He must have been deeply in thought. What could Elva want with him?

"In any case, I see Arya with Murtagh," said Angela already starting to move away. "I shall leave her in your care Eragon. After all, I hear that you are very caring with children." Watching as she left Eragon shook his head wondering how on earth Angela seem to know what was bothering him. Instead he turned his head to Elva and motioned for her to join him. When she took a seat beside him, Eragon glanced at her.

"Is there something you needed my assistance with Elva?" asked Eragon. He never really thought much of the girl before him and he was glad for a moment that Murtagh did not open his mouth to cast a blessing on Ella. He could only think of how much anger he would have for Murtagh if such a curse was placed on Ella as it was on Elva. Now that he thought of it, their names only differed in one letter. She shook her head.

"It just felt different here," said Elva quietly her adult voice out of place in such a childish body, "There is not as much pain here as there is with the Varden." He could only speculate why thought Eragon as he sat beside her. She was quiet for a moment, "Your child will be loved by all the races of Alagaësia."

At her words he turned to her in surprise. His neck turned so fast that he winced reaching up to rub the muscle. He stared at Elva and it appeared that she didn't want to speak anymore but just wanted to sit there in silence. Unable to give words to how grateful he felt to her, Eragon sat there in silence with her as he heard Arya's conversation with Angela float over and how strained she sounded. As always, Angela knew how to unsettle Arya thought Eragon more at peace than amused. Staring into the river he thought of Elva's words and the possible future that he could have with Arya. He never thought much past defeating Galbatorix.

All of his time and energy was spent on thinking of plans and tactics to defeat Galbatorix and he was sure that Arya was of the same mindset until Ella was born. Now, he found himself thinking of a possible home with her—a home he never had. He saw her than in his mind's eye. She was dressed in a skirt unlike her regular leather and in her embrace was beautiful young girl with pointed ears and dark emerald eyes.

He turned and caught Arya's sparkling eyes and felt himself faintly smile. _Yes, maybe one day after this war…_

**It was important to me that we had this chapter so that we could understand Eragon's mindset when it came to children and see some of Arya's self doubt that we rarely get to see in the original. It gives Arya's character more depth in my opinion when speaking about family and children. Anyways, this will be the last filler chapter I hope and I shall start writing the next chapter soon. But I was very surprised that one of the reviews told me that my story is updated in the middle of the night. I usually update them around 7pm but it seems that you're all living in very different time zones! That's very nice to know in my opinion, it makes me feel great to know that people all over read this story. Haha, anyways hope to see you all soon! **


	74. Chapter 70

Chapter 70

**The start of the Battle for Belatona. Though this is the beginning of Inheritance, I hate to say it but this story will soon be coming to and end with another two weeks or so if I keep on updating every day. There really isn't much to Inheritance because it is split between Eragon, Nasuada, and Roran. If I simply focus on Eragon, it would cut down on what I need to write. I'm still deciding how many more chapters this will take but I believe that I may be able to finish this story soon. Anyways everyone R&R! **

Placing his hands on the ground by Leona Lake, Eragon nodded to himself as his magic weaved through the dirt testing the soil underneath. It was soft and he could feel a sort of hollow underneath the ground. His prediction was correct thought Eragon somewhat smug that he had not been pulling at thin air trying to find a way into Belatona. He glanced up at the sky, it was rather dark and the sun was going to rise. His eyes darted from where he stood by the lake edge and the city, to transverse the distance it was going to take to reach Belatona. It was going to be a challenge. Magic or not, he was sure that it would be nigh impossible to hold one's breath for more than ten to fifteen minutes. Standing from his crouched position, Eragon made his way back to the Varden. He had a plan but if it did not go accordingly, he could end up being drowned by accident. He thought about it for a moment and shook his head.

He only hoped that Nasuada would agree to it. If she did, it would give the Varden an element of surprise as they tried to take Belatona. What they needed to do was to keep their numbers from decreasing until they could reach Urû'baen.

"And you believe that by taking this route, you can safely open the gates of Belatona and give us the upper hand in attack?" asked Nasuada as she stood before Eragon about the table in her command tent and hour later. Eragon nodded from where he stood by Arya. The others about the table were quiet since it was undoubtedly in the dead of night or rather very early morning. Eragon nodded crossing his arms over his chest.

"It is a risk but we need the surprise in order to take the city with ease," said Eragon determined for Nasuada to see things his way. He waited for her to deny his idea in taking the city but her silence surprised him. He could tell that she was seriously contemplating whether or not his route would give them any chance for survival. As he waited for her, he could feel Arya's emotions clearly within him. She was frustrated at the strategy and how easily it could go astray. However, he knew that she could not deny how it would be a great help to their forces.

His eyes returned to Nasuada as she nodded, her expression determined, "Very well, we shall proceed with your plan Eragon. I shall have our warriors waiting for you to open the gates. If all goes well, we shall be within the city gates in the next half hour."

"Of course," nodding to her, Eragon left the command tent making straight for the spot in the lake that he had investigated earlier that morning. Before he could make it by a few steps, a hand gripped his. It was Arya. Eragon stared at her in surprise, "Is something amiss?"

"I will be going with you," said Arya. She wasn't asking for his permission but she was merely stating the obvious. He could never win against Arya when she was determined. He sort of knew that Arya would not let him try to attempt a task that was so dangerous on his own and barely armored due to his need to remain stealthy. Eragon nodded. "Shall we tell the dragons?"

"I already spoke to Saphira before telling Nasuada about the plan, if one could call it that," said Eragon as they walked about the tents ignoring the looks sent their way from the warriors that were preparing to fight another battle. "Belatona is one of the largest cities in the Empire, if the guards are alerted of us we will no doubt be cornered. In any case, the moment we open the gates they will come for us and we will have to change into out armor. "

"Then let us be quick about it," said Arya as she followed Eragon to the spot where he was but two hours earlier. She glanced up at the dark sky, "The sun will rise soon. We must hurry Eragon." Eragon turned to her and met her lips quickly with his. When he pulled away, she spared him a slight smile. "This is not the time and place Eragon. Perhaps after we have taken Belatona."

"I shall hold you to that," said Eragon as he took in a deep breath, then with a jump he leaned forward bringing his arms to the front. Diving into the water, he opened his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness underwater. There was a disturbance in the water beside him and he was glad that Arya had used her magic to make a werelight that illuminated the water's depth. He took a moment to admire her before he heard her words in his mind sounding rather exasperated. _I would prefer not to drown to death, Eragon. _

_You think I can help the way I feel when I look at you? _He shot back to her as he used his hands to adjusted his position. He found himself staring at the wall of dirt before them trying to find the hollow that his magic had felt earlier. His eyes darting about, he spotted a dark opening in the dirt before them. Leaning forward, Eragon easily used his arms and legs to propel himself through the water with Arya dutifully following behind. When they reached the space, Arya guided her werelight to the opening to cast its light into the darkness. He could tell that the route kept going and nodded to Arya. Satisfied that they were indeed looking at a route to Belatona, the two of them swam forward. _I'm rather surprised that Murtagh did not argue to join us. _

Arya on the other hand did not share the same sentiments, _he is worried about Nasuada. Though she is going to be commanding the warriors from the rear, this will be her first time in battle since the Battle on the Burning Plains. He worries for her. _

_Nasuada is more than a capable leader, _said Eragon nearly scoffing and releasing a great deal of air. To save him, Arya clamped her hand over his mouth knowing his reaction well enough. She shook her head at him as he sent her a grateful look. They continued swimming side by side through the darkness that was illuminated by her werelight. He was silent for a moment as he thought of Murtagh. It was growing increasingly obvious to him that his half-brother held a great deal of affections for the dark skinned leader. _Do you think they will be happy together? After this war I mean? Nasuada might very well become the next Queen of the Empire. _

Arya remained quiet for a moment and he could feel a slight change to her thoughts as they continued to swim. After a moment she spoke, _did you ever think we would be happy together? _As always, Arya knew how to back him into a corner. He was about to open his mouth to grumble at her until he caught himself once more. He was starting to dislike the fact that they were underwater.

_That is different, _said Eragon after a moment. He could feel her raise a brow rather than see her as she answered him.

_How are we different from Murtagh and Nasuada? _

_For one, the both of us are Dragon Riders. You and I will live extremely long lives together because I am a rider and you are an elf, _he thought about it for a moment feeling as if he was missing something with his explanation. _Also, I love you. _

He could feel a mixture of amusement and pleasure coming from her at his words as she replied to him, _you are very forthright with your feelings in your thoughts than in your words. _He rolled his eyes at her slight teasing. It was as if they weren't swimming to begin their siege on Belatona but were merely swimming underwater just to swim. _However, I do believe that Murtagh and Nasuada can be happy after this war. Even if it is for a slight moment in time. Will you deny your brother happiness?_

_It is his decision if he wants to pursue his feelings with Nasuada, I will not stop him. I just want him to know that his feelings unlike mine have limits. _

They continued to swim together. Pushing the thought of Murtagh from his mind, he focused on Belatona. They had reached the city two days ago and like Feinster, Belatona refused to surrender when an envoy was sent to them offering them peace. After a very rude rejection of the peace offering, the envoy was sent back and they had been preparing for battle since. He thought of Belatona, he had been to the city once with Bard and Desdemona to make sure that Lord Bradburn was doing his duties to his people. However, that was when he was Gabranth hiding behind his helm. Now he was returning as Eragon to disrupt the peace in their lives. They were no doubt going to rain curses and resentment down on his head.

As they swam, he felt his lungs ache at the need for air. He glanced at Arya to see that her lips were pressed tightly together to prevent any air from escaping. The darkness did not look as if it was going to end any time soon. Frowning, he propelled himself forward with more force. They continued to swim until Eragon felt his lungs burn and his chest ache, that was when he saw the light ahead. He exchanged quick glances with Arya. Without any restraint the two of them swam forward into the light the darkness about them ending as they emerged from the water gasping for air. Shaking his head as he floated in the cold water, Eragon glanced about the place. They were inside some sort of stone building that had to utilized the flow of water. After a long moment, Eragon realized that it was a sort of shrine that had the water flowing in to fill the statues and fountains. To think they would appear in such a place thought Eragon wryly as he swam over to the edge of the stone floor pulling himself up. He turned and reached out to help Arya up as well knowing that she was merely indulging him for she could easily pull herself up without his help.

Seeing that she was soaking wet and the water was clinging to her skin, Eragon felt his desire flare in him but instantly he stomped it out within him. This was not the place for such feelings thought Eragon knowing that Arya would be displeased that he would even consider such a thing while they had a battle to fight. Instead, the two of them dried themselves with magic. Eragon was about to turn and leave before Arya reached for him, "Eragon you must change your appearance," said Arya in a low whisper in case they were overheard.

"Pardon?" did he hear her correctly? She frowned at him repeating her words. Hearing her words once more, Eragon sent her a questioning look, "Why?"

"There will be guards about patrolling the city now that the Varden waits before their gates, we need to look human to at least keep up appearances for a while," Arya explained to him. He nodded and with his magic began to rearrange his appearance as she instructed. When he was done, he felt odd. Everything in his face felt off and his fingers constantly itched to touch his cheekbones which were lower than norm. His eyes were leveled and his ears round. How ironic thought Eragon bitterly, he was born human and yet he did not feel at ease looking like a human. It felt very alien to him. When Arya turned to him, he felt his breath catch at how beautiful she looked with her human features. It was not like how beautifully exotic she looked when she was an elf but there was a naturalness to her as she stared at him now. And he could see it as well in her emerald eyes as they stared at each other seeing each other and at the same time an alternation of each other.

Propelled forward despite the fact that they had a task they had to complete, Eragon reached out for her the moment she reached out for him. Their lips collided furiously. He reached up and tangled his hand in her silky hair always entranced by her hair as she gripped his tunic in her hands her lips parting over his. After a moment, they pulled away breathless as if they had just emerged from the water they had been swimming in earlier.

He stared at her and despite her calm expression, he could feel her want rising as she pulled away from him, "Later," she promised him. Eragon nodded glad that she was feeling the same as him. Reeling their emotions in, they took one last glance at the water before making their way out of the room. Opening the wooden door on the side with ease, he was glad when the hinges did not squeak. Walking forward, he spotted a pile of cloaks that seemed to have been washed recently. No doubt for the priests within the shrine. Grabbing one for himself, he threw it on tying the cloak at the base of his neck as Arya did the same with hers hiding Támerlein as he hid his swords. Covered well enough, the two of them made their way out of the shrine and onto the pavement of the city street. He saw a light across the dark sky meaning that morning was but a short time away. Extinguishing her werelight, Arya nudged Eragon and gestured towards the towers guarding the gate.

"Let us take the alleyways there," murmured Eragon as he made his way to a rather dirty and dark alley. "It is much safer from sight though I am not sure you will like what we might encounter in such places." It was true, the filth of the city usually lived in such dark alleys. He had his fair share of unwanted encounters in such alleys. Making sure that Arya kept close to him, the two of them traveled in the shadows of the alleys as the sun kept rising. Soon enough the city was going to be awake and bustling about with their own businesses. They did not have time to waste thought Eragon hurrying along between the imposing brick buildings. He could see the wooden houses at the distance meaning that they were closing in on the guard towers. As they nearly ran, he blinked when he heard the sound of voices. He pulled back putting his back flat against the wall as he heard the voices go on. He peaked his head outside slightly and saw a group of guards standing together.

When they made no move to leave he felt his teeth grind together. They were stationed there in case anyone suspicious came wandering out of the alleys towards the gate thought Eragon. So Bradburn wasn't a moron after all. If he killed them, he was going to leave evidence in the middle of the streets of a fight. Blood was not easy to mop up like water. But if they tried to sneak past and were discovered they were going to be cornered before they could reach the gates. As he was thinking he heard Arya move beside him quietly and then she was pushing Támerlein in his hands. He raised a brow at her as she leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

"Stay in the shadows until I lure them here," with that said, she made her way out of the alleyway and began to walk past the guards who did not realize that she was there until she passed. The lead guard turned to her with a frown as he spoke. He was young Eragon saw, no older than Roran. His companions Eragon could tell were around the same age. His grip on Támerlein tightened as Arya turned to face them and he could see that her beauty stunned the guards into silence. He could feel her annoyance at being so openly gaped and admired at. Eragon scoffed silently to himself at least he did not look like that when he admired her. Pressing his back to the wall, he heard the conversation clearly as the guards approached Arya one having the audacity to even let out a low whistle.

_Not all the filth keeps to the alleys, _thought Eragon with a frown as the lead guard reached out to brush a finger down her cheek. She did not respond to him but he could feel her discomfort and sparking anger. "What is a beauty like you doing out here so early in the morning?" Is this how one wooed a woman? Though Eragon suddenly distracted. He had never wooed Arya before not directly. She had always taken care of that for him when they became a bonded pair. He never wooed her like how Roran had wooed Katrina or how Murtagh seemed to be trying his best to gather courage to woo Nasuada. Now that he thought about it, if Arya had not been so forward about her feelings it would probably have taken him months if not years to realize the depth of his feelings for her. He could feel her amusement and her lips twitched but it did not go unnoticed by the lead guard instead, his finger continued to trail down her skin until it stopped on her lips.

That was when Arya pulled away slightly. She had led the man on and now he looked frustrated. Before she could move farther, the guard reached out to grip her wrist and she let him, "Not so fast!" he tugged her towards him and wrapped his arm about her crushing her body to him. He felt a flash of disgust from Arya and waited ready to kill those idiots. Barely putting any strength behind her struggles, she was half dragged, hall carried into the alley where Eragon was waiting. The moment the guards were not in the open, he stepped forward and rather than staining Támerlein, he killed them easily with one of the twelve words of death leaving only the lead guard who had released Arya and was staring at his companions in utter shock and fear. Looking as if he was going to turn tail and run, Eragon blocked his way as Arya blocked the only other exit. The soldier opened his mouth to scream but a slim hand reached out and wrapped about the crook of his neck before snapping the bone underneath with ease. The scream that was on the soldier's lips died in a low whimper as his body fell to the ground. He raised a brow at Arya before returning Támerlein to her. Then as much as they could, they hid the bodies in the shadows of the alley.

"Next time, let me handle it," muttered Eragon as they ran across the street before disappearing into another alley. He heard her light scoff.

"Are you that angered that a man has handled me so?" asked Arya her eyes gleaming at his emerging possessiveness. He merely grunted at her as they hurried along. It was more likely his agitated state that was causing them to move at such speed now between the alleys. "If you would just wait until later Eragon, you will see how slight that was to how you usually are." If that was an attempt to embarrass him and his actions when they were being intimate, it worked for his cheeks flushed. They quietly ran behind a patrol of guards and ducked in between the shadows of the wooden houses that occupied the less prosperous side of the city. When they reached the guard towers, Eragon could see the guards on top were patrolling back and forth glancing every which way.

"Can you maintain a spell to make yourself invisible?" asked Eragon quietly as he glanced at both towers and the large wooden beam that barred the doors. Arya nodded, "We need to be quick though for it will show our shadows. I will take the tower on the far side." She shot him a look as if saying she could have easily taken the tower but nodded. Taking a minute to wrap a spell about them to cloak themselves, he was glad that he had taken Arya's hand before then for the next moment as he stared at where she was crouched he could not see her. Squeezing her hand in his, the two of them sprung from the shadows running towards the safety of the large stone walls. The moment they reached the walls, Eragon reached for her mind so that they could remain connected in each guard tower. The moment they reached the one that Arya had to enter he released her hand and continued to run towers the other tower in the safety of the shadow cast by the wall. The moment he reached the door, he glanced about making sure no one saw him before pulling the door open to enter. He closed it quietly behind him. The tower was silent as it was still early morning and he was positive that the guards were starting to stir to switch shifts. Making his way up the stairs, he came across the room where the guards were sleeping and with his magic locked them in. When each door was done, he continued upstairs until he came across the turning wheel that opened the gates.

_Arya are you in position? _Eragon called to her as he gripped the handle that protruded from the wheel. He waited for her response. After a few moments, he heard her.

_I am. _

_Let us open the gates, _he felt her agreement and with ease, he began to turn the wheel causing a loud concordant of noise to erupt as the wooden beams were drawn back. Ignoring the loudness of the clinking of gears and metals, he continued to push as he heard panicked shouts in the guard tower as well as the rattling of doors when they realized they were locked in. He heard footsteps pound up the stairs and a soldier emerged onto the floor before his eyes widened in horror. Eragon continued to push going faster now.

"There's no one here!" the soldier screamed in a horrified voice. Eragon had forgotten that he was still maintaining the spell to keep himself invisible. When the wheel refused to move, he panted slightly his magic wearing him out. They had done what they came for. Shaking his head, Eragon removed the spell and before the soldier could shout for help, he killed him with a simple spell that snapped his neck. Removing the cloak, Eragon took a moment to return his face to its normal appearance before drawing Brisingr and hurrying down the stairs. As he ran down soldiers were running up spears at the ready. They shouted when they saw him. Ignoring them, he grabbed the nearest spear to him tugging it out of the soldier's hand before twirling it about in his fingers and stabbed the leading soldier in the gut sending him tumbling backwards onto his companions. Swords and spears ended up stabbing those they weren't meant to stab leaving a rather bloody mess on the stairs. Jumping over the bodies that were either dead or near death, Eragon exited the tower to find the entire parapet in a disarray as they began to let out cries of surprise at their gate suddenly thrown open. He saw Arya emerge from the other tower returned to her normal exotic appearance her cloak discarded as well. Immediately he made his way over to her as he saw the blood stains on her arms.

"Are you injured?" asked Eragon, she shook her head. There was a roar from above and he glanced up to find Saphira circling overhead. She let out another roar diving down to wipe an entire unit right off the parapet. Eragon glanced up at the sight of it raining soldiers. He and Arya stepped back as one soldier fell next to them his body letting out a violent serious of cracks and a squelch as his blood burst forth from his body spraying Eragon and Arya on their lower body. They turned away from the horrible death. Above it appeared as the dragons had made a perch of the parapet. Saphira was on one side sending torrents of flames to any soldier who dared to rush at her. Emerald lights danced on the pavement before them as Eridor landed on another side of the parapet throwing soldiers off or crushing them in his mouth. Then joining him was Thorn and on Thorn's back was Murtagh, holding Zar'roc above his head. "That is a sight to see."

"Indeed it is," murmured Arya as they stared up at the three dragons each of whom looked fierce and made the tall walls look small. They heard the thundering footsteps of the Varden before the gates were thrown open widely with Finny barging through and on his heels was Bard on his steed that Eragon gave him long ago. Catching sight of him, he rode over as the Varden poured through gates into the city taking all of Belatona by surprise. It was going to be a quick battle thought Eragon since they had surprise on their side.

"My lord," he reached down and undid a bag on his saddle, "Yours and Arya's armor are in there." He took the bag from Bard and turned to Arya. They made their way back into the guard tower that she had come from. Eragon was surprised to find it deadly quiet inside.

"I made quick work of everyone," said Arya as she opened the bag reaching in for her light armor. Though he should feel startled by her ferocity, Eragon merely smiled at the deadly warrior that was Arya. He easily tugged his tunic off and threw on his under armor. Then placing his swords to the side momentarily, he kicked off his boots and pants as Arya turned away more to control herself than to save his privacy. He tugged on his lower under armor and with Arya's help donned his silver armor. The last of which was his helm. He returned his sword to his waist and back. They made their way back out to rejoin the fighting to see Nasuada ride forward on her strong, dark charger looking for all the world a commander. By her side was Desdemona and Rosalie, Eragon was cautious of leaving his parents and Ella unguarded back at the Varden but he was reassured numerous times that they had a decent amount of Urgals guarding them. And after Eragon had asked, Elva had reluctantly agreed to guard his parents and baby sister. He was sure it was more for Ella than for him that Elva agreed to such a thing.

"Take to the streets everyone! Engage every soldier you see and push your way to the keep! Our families are waiting for our songs of victory!" cheers met her words as the men charged forward brandishing swords, spears, and shields. As she rode forward she paused by Eragon and Arya with an approving look, "I will be honest in saying so but I had slight doubts about your plan Eragon but as always you have proven me a worrywart. Shall we see which one of us shall be the first to reach Lord Bradburn?"

"I shall meet you there," said Eragon watching as she nodded before riding forward Desdemona and Rosalie keeping close to her. He turned to Arya drawing Brisingr and Vrangr. She drew Támerlein as the dragons gave a roar overhead diving towards the ground to join them.

"Shall we fight together?" asked Eragon remembering her words to him when they were reunited. She smiled fully, the adrenaline of battle blazing through her. Her expression was fierce and joyous as the battle surged to life around them. In battle, Arya's reserved demeanor vanished, replaced by an openness that she rarely displayed elsewhere. Well, an openness that she rarely displayed to others apart from Eragon and Eridor amended Eragon as Saphira and Eridor joined ranks with the soldiers on the ground. He did not dare reach out to touch Saphira's mind with his for they have yet to discover if there were any of Galbatorix's magicians about that could potentially harm them.

From above Thorn flew over head landing nearby with Murtagh. Eragon saw Blödhgarm and his companions rush forward as Murtagh landed on the ground ready to fight. He spared his half-brother a look raising Brisingr in greeting. He responded in kind. Without sparing another glance back he and Arya went to join the fighting in the main street which was large enough for Saphira and Eridor to maneuver about. The soldiers immediately backtracked at the sight of both dragons snapping their jaws and breathing torrents of emerald and sapphire on the streets scorching to death any enemy in their way.

There seemed to be no clean death by dragons thought Eragon as he rushed forward Arya moving by his side. This was going to be the first battle they would fight side by side with each other since their souls became connected. Easily reading her thoughts and movements through the feelings that he was receiving from her, he jumped forward as she gracefully jumped back as a thicket of spears sought to encircle her. Swinging Brisingr about, he rendered the spears useless and sliced four soldiers down before him. Behind him, he saw Arya dance away from a soldier skewering the man in the knee before snapping his neck. He saw one soldier make to bring his sword down on Arya and remembering his promise to Islanzadí he brought up Vrangr and looped the man's head right off his neck. Watching as the body fell to the ground, he shared a look with Arya as they charged forward leading the attack up to the keep slaughtering their enemies in their way.

Brisingr was used for the Varden thought Eragon his sword an extension of his right arm but Vrangr was used to protect Arya. In response to his thoughts, Vrangr's deadly glow seemed to grow as he slew another warrior that sought to injure Arya.

They had made their way into the breach and the battle for Belatona had begun.

**There's not much I have to say here really. So I guess I'll just wrap this up and see you all tomorrow if I update which I probably will! See you all soon and to my readers worldwide continue to have a great summer! Side note* Recently been trying to get a grant to go backpacking through Europe can't wait! **


	75. Chapter 71

Chapter 71

**And so the continuation of the battle of Belatona! I decided to update early everyone because I'm in a rather good mood! In another few weeks I may very well end up backpacking in Europe (My dream)! It's supposed to last for three months in which you travel from country to country. I've always loved Europe :) Anyways, here is the next chapter everyone! Standard disclaimer aside, R&R! **

"Push forward!" in the lead, Bard led them through the opening they created in the gate that protected the keep. He truly was a commander thought Eragon as he saw the blond hair man that often cooked for him lead the warriors forward with confidence and courage. As they emerged into the wide courtyard before the keep Eragon took a moment to study his surroundings. Standing before them and the dark keep with narrow slits for windows and several square towers were two hundred soldiers from the Empire. Somewhere within the keep, Eragon knew, was Lord Bradburn, governor of Belatona.

As they charged forward Thorn landed in the center of the courtyard from overhead and without any hesitation bellowed at the soldiers immediately sending them moving backwards. Though the soldiers had expected to fight against the dragons, Eragon knew that it was difficult not to cower in fear at such a show of ferocity from Thorn especially since he was ruby red— a color that would no doubt stain the floor of the courtyard.

Letting out another tremendous roar, a jet of yellow red flames erupted from Thorn's jaws. Normally such torrents of fire would scorch anything and everything it made contact with however, his flames harmlessly arched about the group of soldiers. There were magicians here thought Eragon his eyes darting about the keep. A line of archers from the battlements released a volley of arrows at Thorn half of which turned to ash due to the intense heat of the flames that Thorn was releasing. The few that made it past the flames were deflected due to the wards that were wrapped about Thorn.

Eragon glanced up at the archers with a frown. He turned as Arya darted past him with Murtagh covering for her. Seeing her drawn into the battle, he knew what it was he had to do then. Rather than running towards the fray, Eragon turned catching sight of Finny. "Finny!" called Eragon to his servant, Finny turned towards him. Eragon pointed to the battlements. Instantly knowing Eragon's plans, his young servant nodded and bent his knees.

Without any hesitation, Eragon ran for Finny with as much speed as he could muster and when he was but a foot before him he jumped feeling strong hands grip the bottom of his boots. Then with a yell, Finny propelled him upwards with all of his strength towards the battlements. Wind whistling past his ears, Eragon easily overshot the battlements. However he was not daunted, instead he easily flipped about in the air as he started to descend towards the line of panicking archers. Another volley of arrows was sent up in the air all of which missed glancing off of his wards. Flourishing Brisingr in his right hand, Eragon thrust his right arm forward as his feet landed on the shoulders of one the archers. The man's spine snapped over as he tumbled to the battlement floor.

Landing in a crouched position, he felt Brisingr transverse the last of its resistance showering him with blood as another archer was cleanly sliced in half from head to groin. He had specifically remembered seeing this move on the Burning Plains thought Eragon as he stood. "Do not surrender!" a rather brave archer yelled throwing his bow to the side and settling for the sword on his hip. Before he could as much draw it an inch from its sheath, Eragon gutted the man with ease watching as he fell joining in staining the gray battlements with blood.

As Murtagh, his guards, and Arya as well as the dragons ravished the enemy forces in the courtyard Eragon devoted himself to clearing the battlements of the archers. He never knew when one might let loose an enchanted arrow that could make it through their wards. Dancing about the swords that sought to cleft him in twine, Eragon maneuvered himself about both, swords flashing in his hands as he slewed the soldiers before him. Ramming one soldier through the heart, he pulled Vrangr back and slammed the hilt into another soldier sending him flying off the battlements and to his death bellow. Though he did not mind killing his enemies whether it was a beautiful death or a foul one, he felt a slight twinge of guilt in his heart as he pulled Brisingr from the body before him only to sink it into another.

_These men were the ones who stood by me not long ago, _thought Eragon with a tight expression as Vrangr descended on another soldiers slicing him in half horizontally without any resistance as if the man was bread rather than flesh and bones. He could still see the shock on the soldier's face and his lower body twitched with the last of life before both halves fell to the floor. _Sorry. _

The thought only lasted a moment as he continued to kill the enemies before him. The moment he was done, the battlements was soaked in a pool of blood that emerged from the corpses of the archers. He stared down at the red liquid as it stained his silver armor which was now looking all the more crimson due to the amount of blood that had accumulated on his armor in the fighting. The puddle continued to grow creeping along the battlements as if it had life before slowly dripping over the side. _Blood the color of angry men. _It was a verse he had heard sung in the guard barracks once when they were drunk and now he understood what it meant as he stared down at the battle that raged in the courtyard.

They had fought for Belatona for no more than two maybe three hours. It was easy enough to destroy the forces on the outskirts of the city but the more they pushed to the castle, the more condensed the Empire's soldiers became. They blocked the streets and forced them to into unnecessary encounters to prolong the Varden from reaching the keep and capture Bradburn. As his eyes studied the diminishing battle in the courtyard, he caught sight of Nasuada at the rear coordinating the attacks on the keep, by her side he saw Rosalie and Desdemona smeared in gore and blood but looking for all the world alive. His eyes darted back to the courtyard watching as the dragons fought in the wide space with Murtagh and the elves dancing about them cutting, slicing, and gutting any soldier that was left unscathed by the dragons' might. His eyes darted to one specific warrior, her ebony hair whirled about her as she dance between the blades Támerlein flashing brightly in her left hand. Her sword was smeared with gore and blood splattered her armor but she still looked beautiful. Eragon knew that if Arya caught him admiring her in battle, she would scold him but he couldn't help himself. He watched as she slid under Eridor's paw and arched in a circle immediately causing a fine mist of blood to erupt from the necks of the three soldiers she cleanly cut.

_That was beauty. _

As he was watching her, he saw a slight change in pattern in the soldiers of the Empire. Eragon's eyes narrowed as he watched them begin to retreat to the keep. Then, from inside the castle, he heard the rattle of gears and chains, followed by the scrape of heavy wooden beams being drawn back. The sounds attracted everyone's gaze to the doors of the keep. With a hollow boom, the doors parted and swung forward. A thick cloud of smoke from the torches within billowed outward, causing the nearest of the Varden to cough and cover their faces. He heard the drumming of iron hooves from somewhere in the depths of the gloom; then a horse and rider burst forth from the center of the smoke. In his left hand, the rider held forth a lance in which Eragon noticed that it was made of strange green material and had a barbed blade forged in an unfamiliar pattern. A faint glow surrounded the head of the lance, the unnatural light betraying the presence of magic.

The rider tugged on the reins and angled his horse towards Thorn, the nearest of the dragons. There was an eeriness about the lance that propelled Eragon into action. Without so much as a thought, he jumped over the forty foot battlements using his feet to slid against the concrete walls creating a great amount of friction to avoid falling completely to the ground bellow. When he was halfway down the wall, he bent his knees and then with as much force as he could muster, pushed against the battlements towards the rider. Brisingr flashing in his hands, Eragon twisted in midair stabbing the rider directly in the chest. The two of them went tumbling off of the horse due to the speed of Eragon's impact. The lance fell from the man's hand before it could do any damage as the horse was snapped up between Thorn's jaws dying as its bone was crushed.

Unable to control his momentum, he went slamming into the stone wall that girdled the castle and courtyard with enough force to send cracks throughout the structure for a good five feet. Disoriented and dazed, he laid there feeling the effects of the jarring landing. After a moment, he shook his head and stood shaking the soreness from his body. Glad that the dragons were unhurt, he made his way over to join Murtagh and his guards as they hovered over the green lance.

"Are you hurt?" it was Arya who asked him the question. She had detached herself from the fighting to see to him. In her hand was Brisingr which she had pulled from the corpse of the rider. Thankfully accepting his sword, Eragon shook his head as he sheathed his blades for the meantime seeing as the fighting in the courtyard had died out.

"The landing was jarring," he admitted to her as she gave him a faint look of amusement. The two of them made their way over to Murtagh. While Murtagh was looking down at the lance in great curiosity and apprehension, the elves including Arya were studying it with strange expression on both their faces, uncertain of how to react. Without any hesitation, Eragon squatted and reached out to grip the handle of the lance. He stood holding the weapon in his hand as everyone took a step back. He raised a brow as he studied the lance. Along the blade, he could make out the delicate lines in a familiar pattern. His brows furrowed his eyes ran over the lines once more before he realized with a jolt that the lance in his hand was elven made. His eyes traveled along the smooth glow that cocooned the blade which reminded him of the flameless lanterns that the elves and dwarves used to light their halls. His eyes darted to Arya and away from the lance, "Is this not the handiwork of elves?"

She inclined her head looking both impressed and confused, "It is, however it is a mystery as to how this would be in the possession of Lord Bradburn."

"What is it exactly?" asked Murtagh still looking rather wary as if the lance would suddenly turn into a serpent and sink its teeth into his flesh.

With a hint of a purr in his low voice, Blödhgarm answered him, "This is a Dauthdaert." Eragon frowned as the name rolled about his mind. Having studied tremendously in Ellesmeŕa, he knew that that word in the ancient language meant death spear. He had read up on this thought Eragon as he stared at the lance. These were used in the dragon war. But how did Bradburn manage to get a hold of this? It was a curious thought. His hand tightened on the handle of the weapon , Bradburn must have lost his mind if he wanted to use the weapon on Thorn.

"And its name is Niernen, the Orchid," said Arya, she pointed to the lines carved into the blade.

"A name that does not fit," muttered Eragon as his eyes returned to the lance once more. When he found Bradburn he may in fact give the man a thrashing within an inch of his life. While he was contemplating a brutal and yet nonfatal way of punishing Bradburn, Murtagh spoke up.

"A Dauthdaert?" Eragon gave him no mind as he continued to ponder. While Arya and Blödhgarm was educating Murtagh in the uses of the Dauthdaert, he felt his hands tighten over the weapon. This would be the weapon to kill Shruikan and put the dragon out of his misery. He thought about Galbatorix's dragon who was no more than a dog to order about. Shruikan was twisted in a way that it was impossible to save him. However, the lance in his hand would be the key. It would free Shruikan from his misery.

"Those who were present say that the dragons' blood rained from the sky like a summer downpour," pulled back to the conversation at hand by Arya's voice Eragon shook his head. They had a battle to win and it was not merely going to happen by idly standing by and speaking about a history lesson that Murtagh needed.

Pushing the lance into Murtagh's hands, Eragon withdrew Brisingr and Vrangr once more. He had tarried enough, "I will go search for Bradburn," said Eragon as he hurried forward with the rest of the Varden. "In any case, the Dauthdaert must be hidden from sight for now least we shall have more worries on our hands." Without a second word, he darted forward faster than anyone could hope to manage. Rather than entering through the gates that the rider had rode from, Eragon easily propelled himself to one of the slit windows by pushing off against the wall of the castle. Turning about, he kicked the glass in and landed with ease inside the keep. Dusting himself off, he sighed as he thought about how easily it would have been for him to stroll into the keep as Gabranth.

_Ah well, _thought Eragon with a slight smile as he saw soldiers hurriedly rush out to engage him. _I have a better life now. _He did not disappoint them as he rushed forward both twin blades dancing in his hands as they descended on the soldiers. There was little room for them to maneuver and escape and soon enough the walls and tiled floor was dripping in blood. Not bothering to linger over the bodies that now laid on the ground or pressed against the walls, he continued onward searching for Bradburn. The man was always a coward thought Eragon as he cleared the rooms on the second floor. Rushing though the rooms, he kicked the door to the main hall off its hinges.

"Run Lord Bradburn!" immediately Eragon was held at spear point. He stared at the soldiers who held the spears as they tried to hold him off in order to let their lord escape. He could see Bradburn disappearing behind another door. Staring at the soldiers, he made no move to engage them. The moment one decided to stab his spear forward, Eragon brought up Vrangr and cleanly rendered each spear into a useless wooden rod then without giving them a moment to collect themselves, he slaughtered each one in his way littering the hall with their bodies. Stepping over them, he blinked when he felt a familiar presence in the main hall that distracted him. Eragon turned catching sight of a man not garbed in black robes but pure white. The hood of his outfit was lined with rubies embedded in the soft fabric. Eragon's eyes widened as he saw a memory flash before his eyes.

"_If you corporate Eragon, this will not hurt in the least," fear flashed through him as he stared at the blade above his right eye. The bindings were too tight to resist and he was weak from constantly being locked away in the dungeons. _

"You have turned out to be my most successful experiment," reaching up with smooth hands, the hood was lowered to show a face that had not aged since Eragon had last laid eyes on him. His silver hair was slicked back and his gray eyes were gleaming with such a twist that he felt himself take a step back from the man. "Have you forgotten your creator?"

"I thought you died Faust," said Eragon as he remembered the night that he had gone mad and ended up stabbing to death the people who had tortured him so. He had thought Faust was part of the bodies that laid strewn before him the last of their life bleeding from them.

"Once I was done with my work, I decided to seek refugee here in Belatona," said Faust with a slight smile holding out his arms as if he was greeting an old friend, "Bradburn let me do everything I wanted. He donated as many orphans to the cause of magic that I find myself hard pressed to leave such generosity."

"Orphans?" repeated Eragon in a whisper feeling the same demented rage rise up in him as it did years before. He felt his body shake as he stared at Faust. He could feel the excruciating pain of having his right eye practically carved out. "You experimented on orphans?"

"Think of it more as a sacrifice to a greater cause," said Faust not moved by Eragon's words. It was if he had taken a blow to the head thought Eragon feeling his mind continue to wrap around his words again and again. "They were starving on the streets and I decided to take them in and help them. Their bodies however could not take the toll of magic and gave out right before my very eyes."

His breath hitched as he stared at Faust. Despite having conquered his demons, the memory of his tortures underneath Faust's hands began to rapidly return to him. All of those days when he was dragged onto the table that was his crypt, where he had his skin carved with knives, burned with pokers, and tortured with magic returned to him. He had the strongest urge to vomit and he felt his rational mind start to slip away as an iciness gripped him, an iciness that he had not felt in years.

Faust continued to speak as if he did not notice the slow delirium that was tenanting Eragon's mind. "Do you know why I prefer orphans over any other subject Gabranth?" asked Faust as he stepped over the bodies that laid strewn on the floor, the red puddle soaking the edge of his white robes. "When they die, they die alone. Rather than burying them, you can always leave them to feed the vultures."

A string in him snapped as he turned to Faust. He was not sure what his body did but his mind had lost to the rising madness in him as his words wrapped around Eragon's mind. He felt Vrangr and Brisingr clatter against the floor as he jumped for Faust. He saw it then flashes of Saphira trying to struggle free as magic held her in place. He saw them cut her on her leg and heard her whimper as they took her blood for their own purposes. He saw them circling him chanting something that made his mind feel ready to explode. All of the tortures he suffered under Faust returned to him with a vengeance. He had thought he'd let the memories be just memories but his body did not listen to his mind. He wanted revenge against the man who held him in captivity. He wanted to see his blood splatter about the floor. He wanted to carve his right eye out. He wanted to just rip apart his body and feed it to the vultures in which he just spoke about.

He wanted Faust to lay dead before him as he thought he did all those years earlier.

"Eragon!" snapping back to himself, Eragon blinked turning his head in the direction of the voice. Standing at the opposite end of the hallway in the lead was Murtagh and by his side Roran, Arya, and Blödhgarm and only six of his other eleven guards. He stared at them. When had they appeared? What was he doing? Feeling dazed and as if he had run miles, Eragon's eyes followed their line of vision and he felt his eyes widened in surprise.

Underneath him was not Faust but a magician dressed in white robes whose face was barely recognizable. What had just happened? Wasn't he talking to Faust but moments ago? Was that a spell? Was he hallucinating. As he stared at the magician beneath him, he took in the horrendous damage on the body. The man's right eye was gouged out from his head. His torso was stabbed many times and a dagger protruded from the spot where his heart was. The magician's lower jaw was crushed and Eragon vaguely remembered something shifting underneath his hands in his delirium. Had he done this?

It was like the time when he was younger. When he had snapped out of his anger induced rage and found himself staring at a hall of bodies all of which he had killed with a dagger he had found. Resisting the urge to vomit, he stood knowing that he must look a sight covered a drenched in blood. Unable to think correctly, he reached up about to rub his face when he saw in his hands was an eyeball that stared at him. The blue iris held a hint of agonizing pain.

Had he ripped the magician's eye out of his head while he was still alive?

Eragon couldn't remember what he did nor what he saw or heard. All he remembered was giving into the rage that was buried away in his body, a rage he had thought he had left behind when he abandoned the Empire. He heard footsteps approach him and a hand reached out to grip his wrist, the blue eye fell to the ground rolling away from them.

"Eragon," his eyes darted back to Arya and he found concern rather than revulsion in her emerald eyes. She did not say anything but merely let him take comfort in her presence than she bent and retrieved Brisingr and Vrangr from the ground handing him his blades, "There is still a battle to be fought and won."

"Arya—" he wanted to explain to her but she shook her head sending him a reassuring look.

"Later," she said as Eragon nodded numbly. He followed her and the others through the keep refusing to make eye contact with any of them as he thought of what had occurred. He knew that it was Faust who was talking to him even if the body that Eragon had mutilated was not his. He was here somewhere in Belatona and now he was no doubt going to making his escape. The thought of it angered Eragon. Angered him to the point he felt that maddening rage from earlier surface but as it crossed his mind the smell of spicy pine needles reached his nose and soothed him to a degree.

Traveling together, they ran up the stairs encountering more soldiers. Since Murtagh and Roran were in the lead, they handled the fighting until they won clear of the stairs. The moment they emerged onto the landing, twelve soldiers rushed towards them—towards their death.

Easily gutting the soldier before him, Eragon watched as Roran smashed the skull of his opponent while Murtagh tackled two to the ground. About him the elves danced amongst themselves, their feet carrying throughout the landing with ease and grace. They were silent and deadly, the elves' inherent grace making the violence appear more like an artfully staged performance than the sordid struggle most fights were.

Eragon took the lead as they filed back into the stairwell and resumed their climb. At last, after another five minutes of searching, they found Bradburn barricaded within the highest room of the keep's westernmost tower. He stared at the tower of furniture snorting softly. To think that Bradburn was this much of a coward thought Eragon as they began to clear the way into the room with a series of spells. As they entered the chambers, the high-ranking retainers and castle guards who had gathered in front of Lord Bradburn blanched, and many began to shake. Holding up Brisingr, Eragon narrowed his eyes at them. "It has been quite some time Bradburn," said Eragon as the shaking in the soldiers continued as they realized that they were indeed facing the man once known as Gabranth. "Will you surrender or will you continued to waste away the lives of your men?"

"You traitor!" Bradburn spat at him with as much hatred as he could muster. Eragon raised a brow and turned to the guards who were clutching at their weapons, sweating profusely. His eyes darted to the nearest guard the moment he caught Eragon's eyes, he immediately dropped his swords and fell onto his knees. Soon enough all the guards within the room were on their knees their weapons on the ground. It was slightly comforting to know that they still feared him as both Gabranth and Eragon.

Then Arya marched over to Bradburn, who was still glaring at Eragon. She gently placed a hand on his arm and after a moment, he lowered Brisingr as she turned to Bradburn and said, "Will you not order your forces to stand down? Only a few remain, but you can still save their lives."

"I would not even if I could," said Bradburn in a voice of such hate and sneering derision, that Eragon was about to strike him with the pommel of Brisingr had it not been for Arya whose grip on his arm tightened, "You'll have no concessions from me, elf. I'll not give up my men to filthy, unnatural creatures such as you. Death would be preferable. And do not think you can beguile me with honeyed words. I know of your alliance with the Urgals, and I would sooner trust a snake than a person who breaks bread with those monsters."

"Such confidence for one who has barricaded himself in to save his hide from death," said Eragon just as coldly as he stared down at Bradburn. "Shall we see how much you can bleed Bradburn?" He did not like the tone nor the insult that was thrown at Arya and did not want to stand for it. Arya shook her head at him and Eragon resisted the urge to grumble as she reached out with her mind to examine the extent of Bradburn's wards. He watched as she casted a spell that put Bradburn to sleep. Maybe later when he asked for Nasuada's permission he might wash Bradburn's mouth with soap.

"She killed him!" shouted one of the guards, and cries or fear and outrage spread among the men.

Eragon glanced at them and flourish Brisingr in his hand. Though they still held outrage expressions, their cries died on their lips as another sound reached their ears. One of the Varden's trumpets sounded in the distance, then another trumpet sounded, and then he caught snatches of what he would have sworn to be scattered cheers rising from the courtyard below. That was odd. Had victory come without the need for Bradburn's capture?

Eragon watched as Murtagh and Arya turned in a circle, looking out each of the windows set within the walls of the chamber. When it seemed like they could not discern anything from merely regarding their surroundings, Murtagh and Arya hurried over to the window directly above the courtyard.

"Ho! What news?" Murtagh shouted to the men below.

Eragon waited for the answer hearing one of the Varden's men cry, "Argetlam! Look! The werecats are coming! The werecats are coming!"

Werecats? He thought about it for a moment glancing around the chamber noticing how preoccupied everyone was. Using this moment, he sheathed his swords and silently left the chambers. There was something he wanted to see with his own eyes. Making his way through the keep and over the many bodies that were the soldiers they had killed in the fighting, Eragon found his way back to the main hall. The body of the magician still laid on the ground, the white robe he wore entirely crimson now. He stared at the body for a long moment. Making his way to the large puddle of red, he blinked when he heard a squelch underneath his feet. He lifted his armored foot and his eyes widened at the sight of the blue eyeball now squashed on the metal. Gagging slightly, he slammed his foot down hoping that the eye was gone. Taking a moment to take in a deep breath, he turned to stare back down at the magician.

Faust…

He was still alive. He hadn't killed him thought Eragon as he reached down to touch the dead magician who was still bleeding profusely. All of this blood…Withdrawing Vrangr, he held the tip of the sword against the blood pooling at his feet watching as by some unknown force as the blood began to arch upwards disappearing into the blade of the sword. He might as well save that for later thought Eragon as he sheathed Vrangr once more. Bending down, he tried to search the body for anything that could give him a clue as to where Faust was but all he found was a key that hung about the magician's neck. What key could this possibly be for?

He snapped the cord that it hung on and stared at the small key in his hands. Could this be a basement key thought Eragon. There was only one way to find out. Remembering his way around the keep, he made his way to an abandoned part of the large castle and found the trap door that led to the dungeons. He bent down and inserted the key into the keyhole surprised that it fit. Turning it, he heard the latch release. Apprehensive, Eragon lifted the wooden trap door and a smell so foul buffeted him. His heart pounding in his chest, he drew Brisingr as he conjured a werelight with magic. The ladder that led into the basement creaked underneath his weight but did not give way.

His feet hitting the ground, he scrunched up his nose at the rotten smell. It smelled like rotten flesh thought Eragon as he lifted his werelight up further. The blue ball of light casted a dim glow on the room and the moment it did, it felt as if someone had kicked Eragon in the gut. His eyes took in the mutilated bodies, the carcass of what once was children, their eyes opened in horror, and their blood splattered on the ground and the walls. His hand on Brisingr shook as he sheathed his sword. He stepped forward Faust's words ringing in his ears.

_When they die, they die alone._

He made his way to the table in the center of the room where a girl laid or rather where a body of a young girl barely in her teens laid. Her hands were bound by leather straps her the gown she wore was ripped and shredded. He saw the blood dripping from her body from various cuts showing that she was recently killed. He heard footsteps and a voice call for him. There was a loud curse as Eragon turned to find Murtagh barely stepping off of the ladder. He glanced at the basement a look of pure horror sweeping across his face before he turned and retched on the spot. Then he saw her descend into the basement and felt a strong urge to turn her about. But Arya continued her eyes focused on the bodies of the children violated and tortured to death. Something passed on her expression so strong that he thought it was a look of utter hatred, pure and untainted but it was gone when she saw him standing there in the middle of the torture room.

Making her way to him, she did not say a word but merely reached out to embrace him tightly. It took him a moment before his hands reached up to wrap around her petite frame. It was a comfort thought Eragon as he held her in his arms. That she was there with him to see such horrors. Off all the things they saw today in their battles.

This was the worst.

**And you thought that Eragon's past has just disappeared? Nope, in fact the deeper they invade the Empire the more of Eragon's past life will be revealed. It's only natural since they'll encounter people and places he's already been to. Anyways, since the Eragon in this story is complex in character so is the back story to him. This will help to build his relationship with Arya and his family which you will all see soon. Anyways, hope you all like this chapter since I've updated it about 4 hours to when I usually do! (And to the reviewer who said it was winter for them-make sure you don't catch a cold!) Anyways, see you all soon! **


	76. Chapter 72

Chapter 72

**Another chapter down the drain. Some parts were taken from Inheritance, the chapter called King Of Cats I believe so there is the disclaimer. To address reviews, the mention of Les Miserables, I always heard my friends say that line but had not thought it to be from Les Miserables. (I'll have to look that up) and about Faust, I just came up with his name on the spot. So there it is. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it shall reveal a little bit more about Eragon's past. Anyways R&R. **

Eragon stood on the dais in the main hall of the keep to the right of Bradburn's throne, his left hand on the pommel of Brisingr, which was sheathed. On the other side of the throne stood Jörmundur—senior commander of the Varden. And between them sat their leader, Nasuada, resplendent in a dress of green and yellow which contrasted greatly to her bloodied war garb earlier. As he waited for the procedures to carry on, his mind kept on wandering back to the fighting earlier as well as the discovery he made in the basement of the keep. He wanted to stay there and bury those orphans.

He wanted to lay them to rest.

But he couldn't. The werecats had reached the Varden and a message was sent saying that the king of the werecats would like to seek an audience with Nasuada. Due to that, Eragon had found himself being carried away by the political aspects of his position. He was Nasuada's sworn vassal, he had to stand by her side. But as he stood there cleaned of the earlier blood and gore that smeared his armor, his mind kept on wandering back to Faust and the children. He should have made sure that Faust died all those years ago. He should have hunted the man down. If he had, then the lives of those orphans wouldn't have been wasted for the man's petty experiments.

_When they die, they die alone. _

He was going to kill Faust Eragon swore to himself feeling his anger rise up within him ready to break loose. But he wasn't going to let the man die a clean death. No, he was willing to sink his knees in blood and bring down justice over his head. He was not going to be like Murtagh and make him atone for his sins by trying to right Faust. He was simply going to kill him and leave his body for the vultures to eat.

"Eragon," he blinked returning to himself at Nasuada's whisper. That was right, he could not afford a distraction at the moment. His past was going to have to wait until he sorted everything out presently. To think that simply abandoning it would solve the issue. He was a fool in that aspect. Straightening he turned his eyes forward. As he did so he caught sight of Arya's eyes and how there was a slight shine to them. She was worried thought Eragon rather contrite. He had been unable to say a word to her about what had happened when she found him standing alone in the basement. Another promise that he had to fulfill thought Eragon adamantly. He was not going to lie to Arya about his past. His eyes shifted to Murtagh. His half brother was rather pale and it appeared as if he was not going to be eating a decent dinner anytime soon.

Eragon pushed the thought from his mind as three trumpets sounded outside the main hall. Then a page dressed in a tunic stitched with the Varden's standards marched through the open doorway at the far end of the hall to announce the arrival of the King of the werecats. Eragon waited as the young page spoke, "His Most Exalted Royal Highness, Grimrr Halfpaw, King of the Werecats, Lord of the Lonely Places, Ruler of the Night Reaches, and He Who Walks Alone."

_A very long winded title, _thought Eragon as he listened to the announcement. _It is hard to imagine werecats being so particular about titles. _

_I would guess as to how long it took the young page to remember something so long, _said an amused Saphira. He could sense her amusement even though he could not see her where she lay coiled in the castle keep resting from the battle earlier.

The page stepped aside, and through the doorway strode Grimrr Halfpaw in the shape of a human, trailed by four other werecats, who padded close behind him on large, shaggy paws. It was odd thought Eragon to see more of Solembum's kind about. For all he believed, he thought he was never going to see another werecat. They were desolate creatures, he knew that much. His eyes darted to Grimrr once more. Standing at four feet, the werecat or rather human stood out distinctly. He had a small pointed chin, wide cheekbones, and, underneath upswept brows, slanted green eyes fringed with wing-like eyelashes. His ragged black hair hung low over his forehead, while on the sides and back it fell to his shoulders, where it laid smooth and lustrous, much like the manes of his companions. His age was impossible for Eragon to guess. It slightly annoyed him to consider that the boy like king before him was no doubt older than him.

As Grimrr sauntered over to Nasuada with his companions, Eragon was rather impressed that they gave no notice to those lined up on either side of their path watching them. Murtagh and his elven guards as well as Arya stood to one side. Opposite them were Nasuada's warriors, Roran, and to his slight surprise Angela. Though the witch insisted that she was 'loosely' part of the Varden she did not take well to being left out of the circle thought Eragon amused. And Nasuada was always willing to indulge Angela it seemed. At the forefront of each line was Eragon's servants. Rosalie stood beside Arya cleaned from battle and opposite her was Bard. While Rosalie was looking on with interest, Eragon could find himself sharing the same sentiments with his cook, the man looked rather awkward and slightly distracted.

While Grimrr paid no mind to those about him, the moment he reached Angela, who stood by Roran, he stopped. The witch was busy knitting a striped tube sock with six needles which was highly inappropriate in such a place but no one made no move to deny her. Just exactly how much power did Angela have? It was a curious thought. Eragon watched in slight amusement as Grimrr's eyes narrowed at the herbalist who continued her knitting unperturbed. If Grimrr was in his cat form Eragon might warn Angela about the possibilities of being scratched on the face but that was not so. Sadly enough Eragon thought as he caught Arya's eyes. She sent him a slight smile as if understanding what was going on through his mind at the moment.

Then to their surprise, Grimrr released a low hiss at the witch as if demanding her to acknowledge his presence which she didn't so much as give a care to look. Angela looked up from the sock, her expression languid and insolent, "_Cheep cheep," _she said.

The meaning was lost on Eragon but he could tell that it angered Grimrr for the boy looked ready to attack her. Eragon watched on in amusement as he heard the slither of blades being drawn from their sheaths at the sudden display of hostility from the werecats. If Grimrr were to attack Angela, Eragon would merely stand by and watch. He caught Bard's eye and inclined his head. His cook muttered something to Angela underneath his breath and it appeared as if she would try to be on her best behavior for the meantime.

Letting out another hiss, Grimrr turned away from the herbalist and continued to make his way to stand before Nasuada. Eragon kept his eye trained on Grimrr. The boy inclined his head ever so slight, displaying a supreme confidence that Eragon was used to seeing in dragons, elves, cats, and highborn women. It seemed as if humans were one of the few races who did not see the need in carrying themselves highly and with a great matter of pride.

"Lady Nasuada," he addressed her in a rather deep voice reminding Eragon of the first time Eridor spoke to him, his voice much deeper than his appearance. While he spoke, Eragon found himself harboring a slight twinge of respect for Grimrr. Though most of his race had lived hidden from Galbatorix's view, the king knew how to delegate with others. He spoke with confidence and reasoned with strong arguments that were hard pressed to ignore. "Time has come, human, for every race, even werecats, to stand together and prove to Galbatorix that he has not broken our will to fight. We would join your army, Lady Nasuada, as free allies, and help you achieve this."

Eragon was impressed to say in the least as he stared at Grimrr.

After a brief pause, Nasuada said, "Your words fall most pleasantly upon my ears, Your Highness. But before I can accept your offer, there are answers I must have of your, if you are willing."

And so the long discussion continued in which Nasuada had depleted her curiosity with every answer that Grimrr was willing to give. A vassal he may be, but Eragon found himself gazing at Grimrr but without seeing the boy. His eyes kept picturing the hall in which he stood piled with bodies. The battle for Belatona was a gore filled and bloody one, he knew that more than anything else. Next would be Dras-Leon, he thought about the cult there and felt his hand tighten on Brisingr. He had no evidence of it but he knew that someone in that cult, perhaps the leader, knew where Faust was. He didn't care what sort of method he had to turn to but he was going to find out where his torturer was hiding and he was going to punish him.

When the humans in the hall broke out cheering, Eragon was startled out of his thoughts once more. He shook his head, he had been finding himself becoming too distracted lately. It was as if the shell that was once him was returning, threatening to encompass the person that he became outside of the empire. As he stood there watching the humans cheer, the elves standing by pleased, and Nasuada speaking to Jörmundur, Grimrr made his way over to him sniffing his armor.

"I believe the mess in the main hall was your doing Eragon Shadeslayer?" Eragon stared at the cat for a long moment before nodding. The king of werecats looked rather impressed. "You have left a bloody mess in your wake. That is the might of a true rider."

Though his last words were a compliment a chord was struck deep within Eragon as Grimrr reminded him of something he had forgotten long ago. He watched as Grimrr turned to back to Nasuada who had dismissed the audience so they could go about doing their own business. _That is the might of a true rider. _Those words, he had heard it before.

_Kneeling in the hall seeing out of his left eye only, the boy that was Eragon stared at the dagger in his hands. His eye shifted rapidly from body to body trying to understand what it was that he did. He had killed Galbatorix's precious pet magicians out of his anger. His rage had made his consciousness blacken out and let his emotions take over. Why couldn't he remember what he did? Why? _

_As he kneeled there, his body trembling with fear and rage, he heard footsteps approach him and felt the overwhelming presence that was Galbatorix. He glanced up at the king feeling his eyes widen at the smile that was stretched about his face. Galbatorix gave the bodies a glance taking in the cruel damage that was dealt before he began to laugh. It was a throaty, rich laugh as if he was attending a banquet with the most esteemed of his court. _

"_Yes! This is the might of a true rider, Eragon!" Approval, he had received Galbatorix's approval. _

Returning to himself, Eragon shook his head. Glancing around the hall, he could see that he was no longer needed. Instead he made his way out of the room, "Rosalie, Bard follow me," Eragon ordered the two as he passed. They nodded and fell in line behind him. As he walked he passed Murtagh questioned Angela on her earlier words. His brother looked much better than before Eragon observed not bothering to linger.

"Is something amiss my lord?" asked Rosalie tentatively, "You appear to be agitated."

"That I am," Eragon answered her not bothering to censor his thoughts as he usually did. He barely made his way down the hall, seeking to return to the basement before he heard Arya's voice call for him. "Are you not needed elsewhere?" asked Eragon as she came to a stop beside him. Her eyes flickered to Bard and Rosalie and she shook her head in response.

"I would like to accompany you," she said. He took a moment to stare at her. No matter how gruesome his past was, Arya had never shied away. It comforted him somewhat that she would always be there to face it with him. He led the way back to the trap door that led to the basement. Reaching down to open the latch, he turned to Rosalie and Bard.

"If you not the stomach for it, I will not force you to stay with me," said Eragon with a serious expression. Rosalie's and Bard's expressions were that of steel as they nodded. He knew better than to say such words to them for they, like Arya, had never left his side since he had taken them in. Taking in a deep breath, Eragon reached down and gripped the latch before lifting the wooden door revealing the open space that lead underneath the keep. Once more descending the creaky ladder, he casted a werelight about the room again illuminating the gruesome scene before him. Though Bard and Rosalie did not retch like Murtagh did as they first set their eyes on the sight, their expressions clearly showed how they felt. Rosalie's lips were trembling despite the fierce expression in her green eyes. Meanwhile Bard was staring at the bodies with a saddened look.

"This is…" Rosalie trailed off as she bent to look at the body of a young boy lying on the ground with his eyes open, the remnants of pain still in the irises. She reached out and gently closed his eyes murmuring soft words in the ancient language.

"I need your help, we need to bury these children," said Eragon as he made his way to the table reaching down to release the girl's arms from the leather binding.

"Of course," said Brad in a gruff voice as he kicked down the door of a small cell that reeked with dead bodies. "Where do you want us to bury them Lord Eragon?"

"In a place where they can find peace," he felt his eyes sting as he stared down at the young girl before him imaging that had she not been an orphan, her parents would be grieving for the lost of their daughter. Arya, who was staring down at a young girl holding a wooden doll in her hand, turned to him.

"There is a courtyard outside where the sun shines down on the grass," she said quietly. He nodded to her grateful as he reached down and lifted the young girl up in his arms. She was light in his arms. Though it was his unnatural strength that made her feel as light as a feather, he knew that she was malnourished and was no doubt starved while she was alive. The four of them went about carrying the children from the basement and setting them on the floor above. Arya looked visibly upset as she worked and he knew that it was due to the importance of children in her eyes that made her appear so. To ask this of her was much of him but he was glad that she was by his side. Rosalie and Bard were not their usual selves. Unlike her bright intellect, Rosalie was resigned to a quiet woman who silently wished for the children a happier afterlife. Meanwhile, Bard had just stopped talking altogether. He could tell that after all of this was done, Bard was very likely going to drown himself in mead. And Eragon had no qualms about joining him.

When they carried the last of the bodies out of the basement, Eragon took a moment to rest trying to avoid looking at the children that laid before them. Looking at them only made him want to hit something and he knew that the moment he lost control of his anger, he would be unable to snap out of it easily. His teeth grinding against each other, Eragon reached up to rub his face as he heard light footsteps reach his ears. Glancing up, he saw Murtagh and his guards making their way to them. He had no idea as to who had called his brother over but was glad for the extra assistance, it would make burying the bodies much easier to do.

"Sorry we're late," Murtagh glanced at the bodies with a pained expression taking in a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching. "I was wondering where you went and realized that you might be here. Where are you taking them?"

"We're burying them in the courtyard," said Eragon not glancing at Murtagh as he reached down and picked one of the children up in his arms. Without another word, he proceeded into the courtyard. Indeed, Arya's words were true. The rays of the sun was shining down brightly on the courtyard and despite its warmth, all Eragon could feel was a chill in his body. While the bodies were being carried out, Rosalie and Bard had set themselves to work creating a large enough space in the dirt in the center of the courtyard for the children to be laid at rest in. He watched them feeling a hollow form in his heart. When the space was finished the children were laid inside, side by side, their eyes closed, giving them a look as if they were merely sleeping.

_This was wrong. _

He watched as they were buried underneath the dirt and listened as the elves began to sing aching laments in the ancient language. But he refused to cry as the others did without restraint. There was no room in his heart to let the tears flow from him as he watched the dirt pile on top of the children. Instead of sorrow, he harbored a hatred and rage so immense that even Saphira had to shy away from it. Those children whom they had just brought up from the darkness of the basement was once more being buried in darkness. Their bodies were going to rot away and he remembered for a moment when he was buried alive by the Menoa Tree. The thought of rotting away made his body tremble slightly. _This should have been me, _thought Eragon bitterly as Rosalie and Bard smoothed the dirt. _Faust was only interested because I was able to survive his tortures, because I was his golden experiment. Not these children. _

He watched as Yaela reached into the pouch on her belt pulling forth an acorn. She knelt by the side of the grave and planted the acorn directly in the ground about the children. Then the twelve elves including Arya, sang to the acorn, which took root and sprouted and grew twining upward, reaching and grasping toward the sky like a clutch of hands. When the elves had finished, the leafy oak stood twenty feet high, with long strings of green flowers at the end of every branch. He stared at the tree that now stood in the center of the dull courtyard giving life to the castle. They would live on thought Eragon as he stared at the tall tree. They would live on in this tree that would be cared for by the rain and sun. _I'm sorry. _

It was a poor excuse thought Eragon but it was all he could offer to those children. It was all he had to give until he found Faust. And when he did, he would have that man answer to the many grave atrocities that he had been a part of. "Did you know why they were there?"

Eragon turned to Murtagh. His brother was staring at him with a steady expression as if he already knew that Eragon was hiding something. He glanced away not bothering to answer Murtagh's question. His silence seemed to bother Murtagh for he reached out and was about to grip Eragon by the scuff of his armor before Rosalie stepped in between them as if to prevent another confrontation after such a sorrowful event. What could Murtagh possibly do to Faust? He did not hear himself snort before he turned to stare at Murtagh, "What would you understand?"

"If you told me maybe I would," challenged Murtagh his blue eyes steely.

_Eragon, you are falling back into your old self, _Saphira warned him as she opened herself to him once more having enough of his anger and hatred. After a long moment, Eragon sighed before reaching up to place a hand on Rosalie's shoulder. She glanced at him for a moment before nodding and returning to her spot on his right. "When I was younger, there was a man that Galbatorix let have free reign to do as he pleased with magic. You may even go as far as to say, experiment with magic…His test subjects were children. I thought I had killed him years ago but it seems as I was mistaken for he was the one who did this."

"Do you know who this person was Eragon?" asked Arya quietly as she made to stand by him, he felt her hand brush his and he grasped it wanting something to ground him to reality before he lost it again.

"His name is Faust," Eragon said softly. There was a reaction from them but they made no move to explain to him why they reacted in such a way. Instead Blödhgarm spoke, an underlying rage in his voice as he did.

"And where is this Faust?"

"I do not know," and that was his honest answer. As if realizing that, they nodded and stood there for a moment longer. Closing his eyes for a moment, Eragon turned and dismissed Bard and Rosalie. The two of them took their leave with strained expressions. Then after a moment, Arya tugged him away from it all. He did not ask her where she was taking him nor did he question her. Instead he let her guide him forward, letting his feet carry him as he moved. He wanted to run away, he wanted to leave everything. Most of all, he wanted to torch the basement and wipe it from existence.

Within the next moment, Eragon found himself sitting on a mattress in one of the rooms in the keep that Nasuada had assigned to them to use if they needed it. He felt Brisingr and Vrangr being removed and his armor being lifted from him but for some reason, he still felt a heavy burden on his shoulders. The burden of those children. Why? The question continued to bother him. What was Faust looking for? Had he not already achieved what he wanted with Eragon? He had successfully found a method to merge his soul with that of a spirits, what else could he have wanted.

"Drink this Eragon," Arya pressed something within his hands and he glanced down at the canteen wandering what it was. Knowing that Arya would never poison him he drank it letting the spicy taste of mead singe through his mouth and throat. Without any inhibition, he practically emptied the entire canteen but it wasn't enough to wipe away the anger that he felt or the sight of those tortured souls. It wasn't until Arya had gently pried the canteen from his hands did he find that he had crushed it within his fingers. Eragon sighed, he was returning to the person that he did not want to be anymore. He was slowly becoming the man who easily let go to his anger and blanked out without even remembering what it was that had happened.

"I'm sorry," Eragon said quietly unable to stare up at Arya, "That you had to see all of that…That you had to see me like that."

She made a noise in the back of her throat before a slim finger lifted his chin and he found himself lost in her emerald eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and Eragon realized with a jolt that Arya was rather tipsy. His eyes traveled to the table where his swords and armor were laying with hers and saw a wineskin on the surface. She was just as affected as he was with the horrors they saw. "Whether I see you on the battlefield or under the Menoa Tree during the Agaetí Blödhren, my opinion of you will never change. You are still you Eragon, do not let anything or anyone challenge that fact."

"But you saw me kill that magician," murmured Eragon. He may not remember what had transpired but he knew that it was not a sight to behold. Whenever he lost control of his rage, he did not act in line with a human nor an elf but he would turn into something that was more akin to a beast that desired to kill. Her expression hardened and for a moment Eragon thought she might scold him.

"You killed our enemy and the man responsible for the death of those children," said Arya her brows furrowed. That combined with her rosy cheeks made her look as if she was furious. "It was not a graceful kill Eragon but even the best of warriors lose themselves to their demons. In any case, I do not fault you for that magician's death and had you not killed him, I would have or any of our companions."

He sighed reaching up to hold her hand against his face as he leaned into her embrace. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to forget the blood and horror. He had spent the most of the day fighting and killing. He had left blood and bodies in his wake and for some reason the moment he thought about it, he could smell the iron smell of blood in his nose. He shook his head as he leaned forward and buried himself in Arya's scent. She never smelt like blood unlike him. She smelt of spicy pine needles and it had always comforted him as it did now.

"I want to forget Arya…even if it is for a little while, about what happened today. I—"

His words were cut off as she leaned down and pressed her lips to him with such ferocity that he was positive that whenever Arya lost control of herself, she did indeed become something feral. But he could never deny her thought Eragon as he fell back onto the bed glad to have something to devote his mind and attention to at the moment. Arya was beautiful and passionate. She was alive as they came together desperate to let go of the day's horror in their release. All he could think about when he was with her was how silky her hair felt, how her skin tasted on his lips, and how her cries sounded to his ears. There was no place in his mind for the recent battles they had been in, for the enemies he had killed, or for the sorrows he had seen. And there was no place in his heart for anything apart from the desire, affection, and tender love he felt for Arya. It was something they both needed thought Eragon as he felt her nails dig into him. It was a comfort that they could only give to each other. One that eased their tensed bodies and soothed their souls.

After a while when they were resting underneath the covers in an intimate embrace, Arya spoke once more, her voice soft.

"Eragon," he knew that Arya was not asleep but had hoped that the conversation could be delayed for another day. However she was never one to put matters aside without a second thought. It was just another characteristic of hers. In response to his name, he made a sound in the back of his throat showing that he heard her. "You knew Faust."

It was not a question but a statement. His arm around her shoulders tightened as she laid against him. There was no need to hide anything from Arya. "I did," Eragon glanced at her. Her emerald eyes which were hard and deep with anger and sorrow was now dark showing her deep sated state. "I knew him more than I wished I did."

"What did he do to you?" she asked quietly lifting her chin to rest against his chest. Her hair shifted falling against his hand.

"Remember that time you entered my mind when I was sick in Ellesmeŕa?" she made the slightest inclination of her head to show that she did indeed remember. "Do you remember the memory about my right eye?" Once more her expression hardened despite how he had spent himself trying to relax her after such a long day. "Faust was the one who did that."

Her lips thinned as she reached up to gently caress the skin near his right eye. "So that was why you lost control of yourself," she murmured quietly.

"One of the reasons why," admitted Eragon honestly, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, "Faust was the head of a group of magicians who pursued the uses of magic on the human body rather than devoting themselves to studying magic. They wanted to see whether or not they could make a being that was above all else if I remembered correctly. For the longest time, I was the one they freely used to carry out their theories and experiments, some may even call it torture." He felt Arya's hands paused on his arm, "Nine months? Maybe even a year? I have trouble remembering. It is hard to tell time when being locked away in darkness for so long. Faust carried out all sorts of experiments on me only because at that time, my body was able to withstand the torture due to Saphira's help. Had she not hatched for me, I would have died like those children did."

"But you did not," said Arya softly her tone, "You survived and you killed them…most of them."

"Most of them," agreed Eragon with a nod, "But not Faust. His most successful experiment was when he managed to create the seal in my right eye. After that, I managed to escape from them and Galbatorix later took me into his wing and trained me as a rider."

"And Faust escaped here?" her eyes were questioning.

"He told me he did but he no doubt escaped during the battle," said Eragon with a dark frown, "That man has a way of surviving. I am positive that he is the only one left alive that desires to continue such experiments. The last of his followers that I killed were the ones who experimented on Finny." His expression must have been one to see for she rose up and kissed him until he felt his face relax before pulling away.

"It is not your fault that Faust escaped," murmured Arya as she pulled away, her hair tickling his face. "When next you meet him, I shall be by your side Eragon. And he will not escape as easily especially after all he has done, I promise you."

He felt his heart go out to Arya as he stared up at her. It was almost impossible to believe that earlier, he held so much rage that he felt as if he was going to be crushed alive. "Arya," she smiled down at him slightly as her name left him as if in prayer.

"We still have all night to spend our time and remember your promise to show me how you would handle me? This is later Eragon," she said reminding him of the promise he made after seeing the soldier earlier who had handled her so roughly. Without another word, Eragon rolled them about before bending down to roughly catch her lips in his.

That night he did not remember the hue of blood but rather the deep verdant of her eyes and the softness they held.

**Why no lemon? Because I believe that having too many may ruin a good story but don't worry there shall be more as this story progresses. You will definitely see some ExA action. Now the question everyone wants an answer to. Will Arya be pregnant later on? I plan on her having a child with Eragon but...You will just have to see. Anyways, I can't wait to see you all again. Side Note: the backpacking trip won't happen for some time and hopefully this story will be done before then. **


	77. Chapter 73

Chapter 73

**Well, with what has been going on with all the horrendous killings and such I decided to write a nice chapter with some ExA fluff and what not. As always there should be a counter balance to the darker chapters in this story. Standard disclaimer as always. And thanks to all of you reviewers and readers for keeping up with this story! (77 chapters is no joke everyone!) Anyways R&R! **

_I want to forget Arya…even if it is for a little while…_

Rubbing her face as she waited for Bard to finish cooking, Arya sighed. It had been but a few days since the battle of Belatona and currently the Varden had yet to leave its position outside the city on the Eastern front. That was mainly due to the storm that had come and gone leaving in its wake dripping tents as well as wet and weary warriors. The storm had been one of the main reasons why their main force had decided to stay rather than reorganize and continue their march to Dras-Leona. Another reason for their tarrying was due to the fact that the soldiers needed to regain their strength as well as take care of any fallen companions during the battle for Belatona. In any case, Arya did not object to their current position. She would ever go as far as to say that she did not mind for currently Eragon was sick with a fever.

At the thought of it, she remembered the time when he was rather ill due to Asura and the fading seal in his right eye. It was like a long feverish period that Eragon had gone through during that time. He was always sweating and he shivered often. It was no different this time. He still shivered and sweated and what irked her the most was his refusal to eat when his body needed the nutrients. Though Arya never liked to play the part of a healer or a caretaker, she did not mind when it came to Eragon. There was also the fact that she did not want another to hover over him and take care of him as she knew Rosalie and Desdemona would do without so much as a thought. It was Arya's place to be by Eragon's side when he was sick.

The only comfort she had as she watched him suffer from his fever was that it was not induced by a spirit that inhabited his body and sought to consume his soul. No, this was a simply a fever that was caused by his overexertion for the past days. Ever since the they had buried those children, Eragon had went searching through the town trying to find any remnants of Faust. Nasuada had not refused him when he asked for her permission clearly understanding that there was something that was eating away at Eragon. She had asked politely that Eragon refrained from violence and as an added measure Arya had gone with him watching as he interrogated almost everyone in the city. When the person in question was not cooperative, Eragon had means to extract the wanted information from them with harsh words and cold threats.

Arya didn't mind in the least, Nasuada had warned not to be violent and Eragon was not violent. He was merely threatening a different concept entirely. However, he wasn't entirely peaceful. When they reached the orphanage, he nearly thrashed the patriarch within an inch of his life after they had found that the man had willingly sold the child to Bradburn to allow Faust to carry out his experiments. Had Arya not intervened, the orphanage patriarch would have no doubt be buried in pieces underground. The extent of Eragon's rage was a sight to behold. It was similar to his passion when he was with her but entirely different. Though Arya did not condone killing the man, she was not exactly kind to him. Rather than heal his wounds she left him there to recover from the wounds that Eragon gave him.

Thinking back to how Eragon had leapt at the man in such a rage, like a panther would on its prey her eyes narrowed. It was akin to how he had killed the magician in the keep. She had been with Murtagh searching for Bradburn when she heard a yell of fury that was no doubt Eragon's. When they found him, he was crouched over the body of a man that was dead. The amount of blood pouring from the body and the lack of any movement showed it clearly enough. But Eragon didn't seem to notice that the magician was dead, he was lost in such a fit of rage that he didn't even feel their approach until she had called out to him. He had jolted in response to her finally growing aware of what he had done.

It bothered him.

"Ah, Arya you're here too?" she glanced up at the bubbly voice that spoke to her. Blinking, Arya glanced up from where she sat on a stool by the campfire. Finny stood over her holding a dead deer over his shoulders as if it weighed no more than a sack of potatoes.

She glanced at the deer and refrained from saying anything about the dead animal. Her eyes took in Finny's bright appearance and it was hard to imagine that Eragon had saved him from Faust's crazed followers. Looking at Finny she would have never guessed that the origin of his strength was because he was experimented on. She watched as he placed the deer on the ground and turned to Bard with a grin, "Here you go Bard, the deer that you wanted. It's the largest one I could find."

"Where did you find it?" asked Bard in a gruff voice with a slightly suspicious look.

"Towards the west of camp, Saphira told me there was a herd of deer nearby," said Finny as he made his way to sit by the campfire in front of Selena's and Brom's tent. The two were inside hovering over Ella as she rested, hesitant to leave her side. "How is Lord Eragon, Arya?" he spoke to her like a close friend and Arya found that she didn't mind.

"Grumpy," Arya smiled slightly at how concerned Finny looked. She had attempted to ease his concerns for his young lord but it seemed to cause him to sit on edge. Meanwhile Bard laughed as he stirred the stew that he was currently making for Eragon.

"His lordship is always grumpy," laughed Bard freely as he stirred. "If it weren't for Rosalie and Desdemona, the two of us would been tossed to Saphira to eat because of the many times we've bothered him back in Urû'baen."

A twinge of curiosity erupted in her chest as she listened to Bard's words. She had always tried her best to glean what she could about Eragon's past life now was no different. "How long have you been following Eragon?" she asked curiously.

Bard thought for a moment, "Well, now it would be five years I believe. Has it been five years Finny?" The young man glanced up and nodded with a smile as he poked at the fire with a branch, entranced by the flames. "Rosalie was with Lord Eragon the longest, I came second, then Desdemona, and lastly Finny."

She couldn't help it but she felt slightly annoyed that Rosalie of all the servants had been with Eragon the longest, much longer than Arya despite the depth of their relationship. She, however, did not express her emotions. It would only irritate her if Finny and Bard saw her _slight _agitation. "Do you mind telling me how you came to serve Eragon?" he question was not directed at anyone in particular but it was Bard who answered her. She had a feeling that Bard and Finny would not deny her anything if she asked it of them for she and Eragon were bonded mates and it was clear to everyone how highly esteemed Eragon was to them.

"I served in Galbatorix's army as a strategic advisor," said Bard with a frown as he continued to stir the soup. "One day, while our battalion was marching, we were cornered by attackers, I later found out that they were bandits hoping to ransack our company. My entire battalion was decimated and I was the only one to survive because I knew how to use magic. Lord Eragon and Saphira found me cornered at the mountain pass and they came to my aid. Ever since then I've been serving his lordship."

"It is a large jump to go from a strategic advisor to a cook," observed Arya. Bard merely scratched the back of his head as he smiled sheepishly.

"I was never good at cooking, the job just sort of fell to me to do since Lord Eragon doesn't cook and he would rather break his own fingers than let Lady Selena enter the kitchen," said Bard amusing Arya. He truly was a spoiled child thought Arya as Bard continued to tell of her the time he spent with Eragon and all of the trouble they had caused for him. It seemed as if Bard and Finny constantly ended up destroying something with their zeal in magic and strength respectively.

"Is there a particular reason as to why you've followed Eragon so far?" she was curious as to see why Bard threw away his Empire, his people, and his career to follow Eragon. She could not see it as a means to repay the life debt that Bard owed Eragon. There was something else to it.

He was quiet for a moment as he tasted the stew before adding a handful of peppers. Arya stared at the stew wondering if she was in the right when she asked Bard to cook for Eragon. The stew certainly did not look edible from her point of view. After a long moment, he spoke, "I have an older brother," said Bard quietly as he stirred, "You may have heard of him, Arya. His name is Barst, he's one of Galbatorix's brutal commander. When we were younger we went to join the military together to serve the king. Barst isn't able to do magic as I can but he was promoted due to his strength until he became part of Galbatorix's ruthless guard dogs. I was promoted due to my magic and strategic skills. The two of us are very different from each other."

Bard paused as if lost in thought. Arya did not push him as she let his words wash over her. He was the younger brother to Barst. She had heard about this man recently through whispers and murmurs. Many of their soldiers were afraid of Barst or what was heard of the man. Apparently he had ripped the head of a rebellious citizen right from his shoulders a strength that was common in elves and Urgals. However, it was not natural for humans to possess such strength. She had a theory but she wanted to speak with Eragon about it first.

"When I followed Lord Eragon, I felt as if I was finally at peace," said Bard his face red showing his embarrassment at being so forthright with her. "There is not much to life when serving as a soldier apart from death and fighting but with Lord Eragon, it was just another day and in which I had to try not to destroy the castle as I cooked. Though he is rather intimidating and threatening, his lordship is very kind."

Arya smiled softly, she could share in Bard's sentiments. When she first set sight on Eragon, he was indeed intimidating. The two of them were very stubborn thought Arya as she remembered their interactions back then. But as stubborn as he was, he was very honest with her and she felt his kindness through both actions and words. After a moment, she turned to Finny. The boy was still poking at the fire. It was odd thought Arya slightly amused. Finny was no doubt closest to Eragon in age out of his servants and yet to her he was no more than a boy while Eragon was a man in every sense of the word. She wanted to ask him about his story but it seemed like that was a subject for another matter for behind her she heard a loud yelp from Bard followed by angry sizzling and a foul stench.

Yes, she was wrong in asking Bard to cook for Eragon.

Shaking her head, she stood and made her way over to Bard and with great effort helped to salvage the stew that he made as Finny watched on with interest. "Bard," Arya stared at the violent gruel in the pot. What on earth was he trying to cook? "This does not appear edible." Sure enough, the stew or rather appeared to be stew, bubbled. As she stared at it Arya was reminded strongly of Angela's concoctions that she had brewed for Eragon as he was recovering after the entire Asura business. The three of them stared at the stew and she watched as Bard bravely took a sip nearly blanching as he trembled on the spot.

Torn between amusement and exasperation, with the use of magic she had managed to save the stew and turned the violet, bubbling thick soup into a creamy white stew that held a delicious aroma. She glanced at Bard, her eyes falling to the ingredients that he used wondering how Eragon was able to eat Bard's food so easily. Usually when he cooked, he did so rather well but now…

"It's only when I'm nervous," muttered Bard. She did not say anything to save him from his rather painful embarrassment. Her eyes turned to Finny as he stood hovering over the stew with a content expression.

"Would you like some Finny?" asked Arya inclining her head. It was if she had offered him water after a tiring journey through the Hadarac Desert. He nodded, waiting on baited breath as she poured him a generous bowl of soup. He immediately went to sit on the log by the campfire and began to eat away. She blinked when she heard him let out a yell.

"This is delicious!" commented Finny with bright green eyes as he continued to eat. Arya despite her best efforts couldn't help but feel her cheeks tinge a faint pink. She did not cook regularly if ever. Her meals consisted of raw vegetables and fruits which were enough to fulfill her need for food. She poured Bard a bowl feeling pity for the man as he continued to attempt to wash his mouth of such a foul taste. When she was done, she poured two bowls for Eragon which she set on a tray. Even though he made no move to eat, he was going to eat what she cooked for him.

"You are leaving the rest with us?" asked Bard in slight surprise when she made her way to leave. She turned to the magician nodding. She had no other need for it. Their expressions where one of such gratitude that it made her feel awkward. If they were moved by her salvaging Bard's attempt at cooking stew, she could only wonder how _kind_ Eragon actually was to his servants. Pushing the thought from her mind, she made her way back to her tent as Bard and Finny wished her well.

Easily making her way through the tents as the people about her sought to fix their sagging tents due to the storm, she found her tent standing tall and upright as she had set it. Pushing the flap aside, she felt a smile tug at her lips at the sight of Eragon burrowed under the sheets as he slept soundly on her cot. He made no move to leave the cot as she entered. He was as dead to the world as he was when she had left him. She set the tray on the table in the center of the tent and made her way over to him kneeling on the cot as she reached to place a hand on his face feeling his heat radiate from him.

"Eragon," knowing better than to irritate him, she gently called his name almost singing to him as she spoke in the ancient language, "Eragon, you must wake and eat else you shall never be able to be rid of this fever."

He shifted, his head subconsciously leaning into her hand but he made no move to rise. Like always, he refused to get up to do anything. There were several methods to have him wake thought Arya as she the methods played out in her mind's eye. She often pinched him in the sensitive spot behind his neck which jolted him awake. Else she would prod him awake. Other times she would use more intimate gestures to wake him which only seemed to wake his body rather than his mind fully. Seeing as he was suffering a fever, she decided to go a different route to waking him.

"If you wake and eat, I shall let you continue to sleep," promised Arya. Hearing her promise, his eyes cracked open as he stared up at her. She felt amusement win over as she stared at him and how oddly endearing he appeared. His hair was a mess, his eyes were tired, and his cheeks had a red tinge to it that made it look like he was perpetually flushed. Her expression softened slightly as she saw the slight pain in his brown eyes.

Not saying anything, he sat up with much effort looking drained of energy. Arya could not share any sympathies with Eragon. She herself had never been sick apart from the time when she was suffering from the poison, Skilna Bragh. He glanced at her before letting his head drop, his eyes falling close and she was under the impression that he was going to sleep sitting upright. She felt herself laugh lightly as he sat there. Reaching over to the table, she picked up one of the bowls and a spoon before returning to his side.

"Who cooked that?" asked Eragon his voice heavy as he lifted his head to stare at the creamy soup with a suspicious look. After seeing the result of Bard's nervousness on his cooking, Arya had a better understanding as to why Eragon was reluctant to eat anything that was offered to him without ascertaining its origins.

"I did," said Arya with a slight smile as he eyes widened in surprise. To think that the crown princess of the knotted throne was using her time cooking and taking care of her sick mate. It was fair thought Arya amused as Eragon ate a spoonful of her soup. She had made him wash her sheets before. She watched as he swallowed the soup waiting for his reaction. It was odd how anxious she felt. He blinked for a moment.

"It is delicious," he did not say it with as much enthusiasm Finny had but the effect it had on her was profound. She found herself feeling rather pleasant and proud as she continued to help him eat the first bowl watching as he sat up straighter, the dazed look on his face disappearing slightly as he became more aware of his surroundings. When the first blow was finished, she reached up with her fingers to wipe his lips of any last bit of cream on his face as his tongue darted out to wipe it away. She felt a shiver move down her spine when his tongue softly touched her fingers. _Now was not the time, _Arya thought to herself resolutely, _Eragon is sick and needs to recover. _

"Another bowl?" he asked in surprise as she reached for the second one. She nodded and this time, he was starting to show signs of refusal. She raised her brow as she stared at him. When he was sick with a fever, Eragon tended to let his spoiled side show. She sighed, if she wanted to place the blame on someone, it would have to be on his servants for rarely allowing him to do anything except for what he pleased.

"You will not eat after you lay down to rest, it is best if you sleep full," said Arya as she held up a spoonful of soup. She waited patiently for him to eat. After a moment, he grumbled but opened his mouth and continued to eat deciding it best to simply follow her orders. Though Eragon could be grumpy when he wanted to, she could be just as stubborn if angered. "I was with Bard and Finny earlier."

He nodded hearing her and ate another spoonful. Even from where he sat, she could feel his heat radiating from his body. Angela had stopped by earlier and after much threats on both of their parts, he had drank whatever it was that she gave him. Whatever it was, the herbalist left promising that by the end of the day, he would be cured of the fever. So far it appeared as if the fever was not going to be leaving any time soon.

"How do you eat Bard's cooking?" asked Arya curiously as his mouth closed around the wooden spoon. He gave a snort and ended up choking as he tried to swallow at the same time. She watched as he pulled away coughing furiously into the crook of his elbow. Arya watched him with a slight smile. She was now having difficulties with deciding whether or not she preferred the Eragon before her or his regular self. They were both endearing in their own ways. Although one was slightly more irritating than the other. Just slightly.

"He can cook when he wants to," said Eragon after a moment as he finally calmed down with a light cough. "Other times, he makes a mess of the kitchen and could end up poisoning someone. Finny had been so hungry once that he fell ill for a week after eating some foul concoction that Bard cooked."

She had no doubt about the story in the least. "I heard that his older brother is Barst," mentioned Arya. Eragon frowned as he swallowed another spoonful.

"Another pious fool who cannot distinguish between a battlefield and a shrine devoted to Galbatorix," muttered Eragon.

"You do not like him," said Arya simply as she stared at Eragon. He nodded blinking tiredly as he ate the last of the cream soup. Placing the bowl to the side, she watched as he suddenly was overcome with drowsiness once more. He murmured a few words to her before laying back down on their cot that they shared and covering himself once more. Seeing as he had listened to her orders so diligently earlier, she did not stop him from resting. Instead, she made her way over to the side of the tent and whispered a few words in the ancient language at the patch of dirt on the ground. The patch shifted before her like water before drawing back to reveal a wooden chest. She reached down and whispered another word to the chest watching as it opened with a click.

Lifting the lid open, she gazed down at the violet Eldunarí. Fundor's torrent of thoughts had slightly diminished but just barely. He was still covering himself in a whirlwind of pain and anguish unable to think correctly. They had left Fundor with Saphira, Eridor, and Thorn to try and soothe him but it drained the dragons' to have their minds bared to such a storm of thought and emotions. Arya stared at the Eldunarí for a moment before she heard loud, wet footsteps in the mud outside. Without a second thought she locked and buried the chest as she heard a knock on the post of her tent followed by Murtagh's voice.

"Arya may we come in?" _We? _Watching the dirt settle, she stood regaining her bearings before she answered him.

"You may," the tent flap was pushed aside and Murtagh stepped inside and hesitantly following him was a man Arya came to know of as Albriech, one of the villagers who traveled with Roran as they had transverse the Empire to join the Varden.

"Elain is in labor pains Arya," said Murtagh hurriedly in response to Arya's questioning stare. "If you would lend us your aid, it would ease her pain." Though Murtagh was asking for her assistance, Albriech appeared less than pleased about it but he did not protest against Murtagh's request. Her eyes darted to Eragon as he slept on the cot. She was reluctant to leave him for long especially since he was so ill. Before she could stop him, Murtagh reached out and gripped Eragon by the shoulder shaking him. Eragon normally was a very resentful early riser. No, he hated waking up in general corrected Arya. Now that he was ill with a fever, it made his mood even worst. After a few more shakes, Eragon had reached out faster than anyone could follow and threw Murtagh's hand off of him.

"Let me sleep," he grumbled in response.

"We need your help Eragon. I would like to ask for Rosalie and Desdemona to help with Elain's labor since they had taken care of mother so well when she birthed Ella to the world," said Murtagh. Eragon was not moved, instead he continued to sleep saying tiredly.

"I am not Rosalie or Desdemona. You are asking the wrong person," grumbled Eragon as he resumed sleeping. Murtagh shot her a look that clearly asked for her assistance. Arya glanced at Eragon knowing that she had promised him that she would let him sleep after he dutifully ate. After a moment, she sighed and walked over to him.

"Wait for me outside," ordered Arya. The two men hurried outside as she took a seat beside Eragon. Leaning over him, she could see the clear scowl on his face as he tried to sleep despite the interruption earlier. Bending down to him, she thought of one of the best methods of persuasion that she could utilize. Five minutes later, they were hurrying to Elain's tent with Desdemona and Rosalie in tow as well as a scowling Eragon. As expected, Rosalie and Desdemona did not deny Eragon's request when he asked it of them. They merely nodded and without any regards to what they were doing originally, they went to join them as they neared Elain's tent.

When they arrived, Arya turned to Eragon and watched as he took a seat on a barrel not paying heed to anything around them. He crossed his arms around his chest and bowed his head, his eyes closed. He really did cherish his sleep thought Arya amused.

A loud scream from Elain's tent drew her attention.

Her eyes darted back to Eragon hoping that no one in the vicinity would do anything to offend him. Seeing as he was ill, he would no doubt lash out without any restraint. Instead she followed Rosalie and Desdemona into the tent where Elain laid on a cot sweating and shaking profusely, her swollen belly looking out of place on her frame. Arya frowned as her mind wandered to Selena's birthing of Ella. Eragon's family was more than accepting of magic and trusted her with their life. They had no qualms or worries about letting Arya and her companions weave a spell to help Ella from the womb and into the world. And Ella came more than willingly into their arms, cocooned safely in their song. However, she could tell that it was the opposite here. Instead, she knew she was unwanted and not trusted anywhere near the baby. After all, they would think that she would enchant them and switch the baby for a hatchling as they wrote in their books and such. She knew their views of her people well.

It was rather saddening to see that not everyone was open minded as Eragon's family.

Katrina who was already inside the tent stood beside the village healer named Gertrude. Arya ignored the look that Gertrude bore and focused solely on the child that was to be born. She was unwanted in their presence but she was not callous as to let any harm become of the child. "Arya, thank goodness you are here," breathed Katrina coming to stand beside her. Arya's eyes darted to Katrina's and the woman did not flinch nor hesitate. In that aspect, Roran's wife had deserved Arya's respect. She did not falter in the face of unnaturalness and danger thought Arya, a trait befitting of the wife of Roran. "Elain, she is in pain and not as youthful as she once was. Can you do anything to ease her pain?"

"I can if you will let me," answered Arya watching as the humans within the tent apart from Rosalie and Desdemona tense.

"Katrina, I do not think it is wise," started one of the women present. But she was cut off as Elain let out another anguished cry, her body convulsing on the bed. Horst, her husband, stared on helpless as his wife suffered the pain that contractions brought with birth. Arya raised a brow and stared at Horst, if he wanted his wife to survive this child birthing than he would be wise to consider the options that laid before him. Either he let her give birth to the child naturally and risk losing his wife or he accept her use of magic even if it was slight and save Elain. She was not going to push him for it would only harden tensions in the tent.

"If you would let me I can ease her pain," said Arya in a low voice. Horst stared at her hesitating with his decision. His eyes flickered to his wife's pallor and her expression which was scrunched up in pain and he nodded.

"Just enough to ease her pain," he said weakly. Arya understood the meaning of his words without need for elaboration. They would not let her sing the baby from the womb like she had for Selena. They did not trust her fully enough and she too understood that. It was in their tradition, it was ingrained into them to distrust everything and anything that was not natural to humans. Resting her hand on Elain's belly, she ignored the slight twitches in everyone apart from the three females that had no trouble in trusting in her. While everyone watched, Desdemona and Katrina bustled about to wet several pieces of cloth with warm water while Rosalie went to elevate Elain's head so she could breathe easier. Concentrating all of her efforts on the baby within the womb, Arya weaved several spells that ease the pain that would cause Elain during the process but she was unable to continue when Gertrude insisted that she had done enough with her magic and that they needed to focus on the child.

Arya was not someone who was frustrated easily. Yes, there were times in which frustration gripped at her. For example whenever Eragon was purposely being stubborn, she would get frustrated. However, her frustrations towards humans in general had eased over the decades she had spent outside of Ellesmeŕa. It was a surprise to feel it again after so long of an absence. Refusing to let this get the best of her, she nodded and continued to help Elain give birth. Another scream was torn from her throat despite the magic that Arya had used to ease the pain. It appeared as if the stress from her travels and recent events had caused for such problems during the birth. If only they would let her sing the baby from the womb.

As Elain screamed, Arya's keen sense of sound picked up on a dark murmur from outside the tent followed by an even darker reply that was Eragon.

She felt her frustration peak. Not only were they subjecting Elain to needless pain due to the need to birth naturally, she was worried that Eragon out of the haze of the fever might end up snapping at someone. And when he did it would take much more than Murtagh to keep him at bay. She caught Rosalie's eye and the skilled healer's expression was strained.

Elain screamed once more, drowning out their thoughts as they drew together over her to see what it was that they could do to ease the birth. It hurt to lose a child thought Arya as her mind wandered to the children they found in the basement but it hurt just as much to bring one into the world.

**You know, the thought occurred to me that when this story is finished I may revise it and have a copy printed into a book for me to carry around and read. Just for me though :) It's a very nice idea just carrying around a story that I wrote. Sometimes when I read this over, I find myself slightly surprised at what I wrote. (Like did I really write that line of thought). Anyways, hopefully you all like this ExA fluff in here. I'll see you all at the next update! **


	78. Chapter 74

Chapter 74

**Another chapter everyone more ExA fluff. (I'm trying to see how I can keep incorporating their relationship into each chapter lately. I'm paranoid about ending this story for some reason) Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! R&R everyone! **

A scream rang out: high, jagged, and piercing, almost inhuman in pitch and volume.

Eragon felt his lips curl into a frown as he sat on the barrel waiting for this Elain woman to be done giving birth. As he sat there, the cold biting into his skin, he felt his mood continually decline. To begin with, he was suffering from the worst fever he ever had in his entire life. He may have been transformed into an elf but he wasn't giving immunity to sickness, his condition today being a clear example. _What was he doing here again? _His eyes closed as he sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed, he tried to think of the reason why he was currently here when he was not needed. Another scream reached his ears preventing him from sleeping fully even if he was trying his best to drown out the sound. It was a beautiful process when his mother gave birth to Ella but that was only due to the fact that Arya and her companions, Invidia and Yaela, had sung Ella out from the womb.

These people however…

Next to him, beside the barrel that served as his seat, Murtagh was sitting on another barrel looking all the world as agitated as the sons, Albriech and Baldor. He was sitting on edge, his eyes focused on the tent ahead where the women and Horst were. Eragon barely spared his half-brother a glance before closing his eyes once more. He should have brought a blanket thought Eragon dully. If only Arya had not been so insistent on waking him and having him fetch Rosalie and Desdemona. Had it been anyone else, he would've snapped their hands or tossed them from the tent as he was ready to do with Murtagh had he continued to shake him. His neck aching, Eragon huffed slightly as he lifted his head to alleviate the pressure on his neck for trying to sleep sitting up.

His eyes darted about to memorize his surroundings. Though he insisted on sleeping, he did not want to sleep in a place in which he did not know everything about him in its entirety. His eyes traveled to his cousin, Roran, who sat a few feet away on his own barrel. Then over the villagers from Carvahall, who all looked more like a rag tag band of migrants. Which was what they are when he gave more thought to it. After a moment, he returned to his original position ready to continue his uneven sleeping pattern at the moment. Hopefully the birth would not take much longer for they had waited for several hours, and dusk was drawing near. Long shadows stretched out from every object, reaching eastward striving to touch the horizon. Just seeing that it was dawn soured his already terrible mood. He had missed out on hours of sleep and soon enough Nasuada was going to want to see him to discuss tactical measures about taking Dras-Leona.

_Saphira tells me that you are very spoiled, _he heard a deep rumble in his mind that belonged to Eridor. Currently Saphira was busy staying with his mother and father and she wanted to be near Ella. Meanwhile Eridor and Thorn had taken to waiting behind the crowd to see how the baby and Elain faired. _I can see where that is true. It is amusing to think that Arya indulges you in that aspect. _

_Oh? _Eragon asked curiously, he could feel Eridor's amusement. And he knew why the green dragon was particularly amused. In all of Arya's life before she and Eragon came together, Eridor had been the only one to have been spoiled thoroughly by her. She denied the green dragon nothing and would often overlook a _few _slights that Eridor made. Not only that but she sided with Eridor on everything, particularly when he was just a hatchling and had caused much trouble for Eragon. _Are you jealous? _

_Jealous? Not really, _snorted Eridor as Eragon smiled as he caught sight of the emerald dragon lifting his head slightly from behind the crowd. _It is very amusing to see how such a terrifying rider is spoiled by everyone about him. Saphira denies it but she spoils you as much as everyone else. I would even gamble that Arya tends to spoil you as well. _

_And what will you gamble? _Eragon could not remember a time when Arya spoiled him much. There were a few days she took pity on him and let him sleep in but otherwise, she treated him like norm.

He could feel the slight hint of mischief in Eridor's mind showing that he was still indeed a young dragon despite his deep and ancient voice. He knew that Eridor was trying to calm Eragon from doing anything rash and he could tell that it was working. He was starting to feel better and he was sure it was a combination of that awful concoction that Angela had practically forced down his throat with Arya's assistance and his conversation with Eridor.

_Are you willing to gamble with me Eragon? You may end regretting it much later, _warned Eridor. Eragon scoffed slightly. He was a gambling man and he always did take his chances in life. This was no different. It was a harmless bet with Arya's bonded dragon. Knowing that Eridor had no intentions of actually harming him, he took his chances with the emerald dragon.

_I am willing. Now what are you willing to gamble Eridor? _

_How about the two of us gamble the same price? If either is wrong, we must withhold our affections for our bonded mate for four days. That includes any and every intimate gestures, _suggested Eridor. Immediately, Eragon's frowned deepened. Though he was not threatened by the gamble, he thought of how Arya might feel if he staved off of her caresses for four days. He thought about it for a moment. It wasn't as if Arya craved for physical contact. He thought about the times they had come together. There was the first time at Tronjheim. Then again in the following morning, then when they were reunited after he returned from Gil'ead. He continued to list it off in his head: there was the time he had ambushed her in the library, then when she was bathing, before and after the battle for Belatona, and the list went on. Now that he thought about it, it seemed as if he really did crave for Arya's touch more than he thought. He was positive that a part of it was a side effect of their bond but the great majority was because he desired Arya in general. Therefore Eragon came to the conclusion that she would not miss the contact as much as he would. _Four day? _He inwardly scoffed. He could last four days.

_I shall take you up on that gamble Eridor, _said Eragon with a slight smirk. He could feel Eridor's own confidence radiate in his thoughts and a smug feeling as if the emerald dragon had already won. _Now, how shall we test this theory? _

_Merely request Arya to handle tasks out of the norm for you, tasks she would never do originally. The time limit is a day, if she indulges your requests than it is clear that she spoils you. If not, then she does not spoil you, _said Eridor setting down the terms. _The limit starts the moment she is not preoccupied with helping to deliver the child and when you are well and shall end the following day. And you cannot request things of her half heartedly else it will be unfair. _

This should be easy enough thought Eragon confident. _It is a deal then, _he said cementing their gamble. He just had to ask Arya to do things she would look down on. Already as he was sitting there on the barrel he thought of several tasks that he was sure that Arya would deny him the moment they left his lips. She was after all royalty and was never one to be ordered about. As he was busy contemplating, another scream rent the silence bringing reminding him that he was indeed still suffering a fever and was sitting out in the cold waiting on someone he did not know. As he sat there feeling his earlier irritation return, the men about him stirred with unease. Some made gestures to ward off bad luck and murmured to one another in voices intended only for those closest to them but Eragon could hear with perfect clarity. They whispered about the difficulty of Elain's pregnancy, others blamed Elain's troubles on the Ra'zac or the Varden. And more than one muttered a distrustful remark about Arya being allowed to assist with the birth. Though Eragon tried his best to ignore such dark remarks, he felt his irritation change to annoyance. One particular man, whose name was lost on Eragon, spoke in a louder voice than the others as another scream penetrated the air.

"No doubt that elf is merely waiting to sink her claws into the baby seeing as Elain—"

There was the slither of a blade and Eragon held Brisingr directly before the man with narrowed eyes, "What did you say?" he asked, challenging the man to finish his sentence. Murtagh, who sat beside him, reached out to lower his arm.

"Eragon," Murtagh started his expression strained. He stared at his half-brother. After a moment, Eragon scoffed sheathing Brisingr. To think that Murtagh would continue to protect such narrow minded people.

"I did not ask to be here and have the people I care about insulted," Eragon reminded him rather coldly, "Had mother not recently given birth I would never have told Rosalie and Desdemona to attend to matters that they need not." Murtagh's lips thinned and immediately all the whispers of vehement distrust about Arya had died out. Eragon was not a man to be irked and it was well known within the Varden that his temperament was thin. Even Eridor could not hold off the building storm in Eragon despite his best efforts to earlier.

The barrel underneath Roran creaked as he leaned forward, "Do you think we should—"

"No," said Albriech.

The chill was unbearable thought Eragon as he sat there unsure of whether or he should continue to wait or not. Arya was inside the tent though and he found himself staying. She was trying her best to be of assistance to them, it was the least he could do. His eyes traveled to the tent watching as the flap was pushed aside, Katrina exiting the tent. Though Eragon did not know Katrina well, he held a sliver of respect for the woman. She was not weak minded nor frightened easily but rather determined and steadfast. She hurried toward the fire where rags were being boiled for reuse to replace the bundle of soiled ones she carried.

It was very traditional thought Eragon as another scream pierced the air. He thought of the half hour he had to wait for his mother to give birth to Ella. There was barely a scream from her and before they knew it, his baby sister had graced their presence. Had these villagers only trusted in Arya, all this needless pain would have been for naught.

Then the entrance to the tent was swept aside for a second time and Arya stormed out, bare-armed and disheveled. Her hair fluttered about her face as she trotted over to three of Murtagh's guards, who were standing in a pool of shadow behind a nearby pavilion. For a few moments, she spoke urgently with Invidia, then hurried back the way she had come. He ignored Murtagh as he went to catch up to Arya to ask how goes the birthing. Eragon meanwhile remained seated, he did not particularly feel the need to ask Arya how the situation was. He knew from just waiting and listening: it was bad.

After exchanging a few words with Murtagh, she disappeared inside Horst's tent before sending Eragon a look that told him to behave while he was waiting. He grumbled, to think that Eridor would say that Arya indulges him. As they continued to wait for Elain during her rather strenuous birth pains, his mind wandered back to Belatona. He had interrogated everyone within the city and nearly killed the patriarch of the orphanage there, but there was no lead to where Faust could have disappeared to. Yes, they knew of him but they never gave much thought to the mad magician. Nor did they give much thought to the orphans that were taken by him. Of course, why would they? They were orphans after all. His thoughts were interrupted as they had been for the past hours with a piercing shriek like no other.

A brief but profound silence followed.

It ended as the loud, hiccupping wail of a newborn child emanated from within the tent. It was done thought Eragon warily as he stood. Though his fever was starting to subside, his still felt chilled and dazed not to mention the fact that he desired several hours of sleep. At the sound of the wail, several men cheered but their jubilation was short-lived. Even as the last of the cheers died out, the women in the tent began to keen, a shrill, heart-rending lament. His eyes darted to the tent three possibilities flashing in his mind.

As if in response to his thought, Arya tore back the flap to the tent and ran toward him, bounding across the lane with impossibly long strides towards him and Murtagh. He studied her and how agitated she looked but there was something else in her eyes, she looked lost and anxious. That could only mean that something had happened to the baby thought Eragon making a reasoned assumption.

"What's happened?" Baldor asked as she slowed to a halt.

Arya ignored him and said, "Murtagh, Eragon, come."

"What's happened?" Baldor exclaimed angrily, and reached for Arya's shoulder. Eragon was about to put the man in his place for speaking so rudely to her but in a flash, Arya caught his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, forcing him to stand hunched over, like a cripple. His face contorted with pain and for a brief moment Eragon felt a surge of pride at Arya's actions. He sometimes forgotten that the tender mate of his was still a hardened warrior.

"If you want your baby sister to live, then stand aside and do not interfere!" she released him with a push, sending him sprawling into Albriech's arms, then whirled about and strode back towards Horst's tent. Eragon stared at the two brothers for a moment and then followed Arya alongside Murtagh. He did not know what it was that had happened but her words struck a chord in him and he could tell that Murtagh was thinking the same thing. He and Eragon were similar to Baldor and Albriech in this instance for now they both had a baby sister to love. Had something happened to Ella, Eragon would be at his wit's end no doubt.

"What has happened?" Murtagh asked as they walked.

Arya turned to him, eyes burning, "The child is healthy, but she was born with a cat lip."

The piece of news struck the both of them as they realized the reason for the women's outpouring of grief. An image of Ella, his beautiful baby sister, flashed in his mind. She was laughing brightly as she stared up at him, her mouth wide and her hands reaching for him as if she recognized that he was her older brother. He turned to Murtagh with a determined expression, "You have to heal her," he said speaking the thoughts on Arya's mind as she nodded.

"Me? But I've never…Why not you? You know more about healing than I do," Murtagh's question was directed to both he and Arya.

"If I rework the child's appearance, people will say I had stolen her and replaced her with a changeling. I will do it if I must, but the child will suffer for it ever after. And they do not trust Eragon as they trust you. You are the only one who can save her from such a fate," said Arya her expression severe. Eragon glanced away, they were risking the life of a child to Murtagh. Though he knew his half-brother was capable, it did not mean he was an expert as compared to Arya. One wrong wording and he could end up harming the baby. It was due to the village's deep rooted traditions that made this situation so precarious. He could see the panic starting to grip at Murtagh.

"You have to heal her," Arya repeated his earlier words, her tone forceful. It was enough to shake Murtagh as he nodded.

"Will you assist me if I need it?"

"Of course," Arya said it without hesitation while Eragon nodded. He still felt feverish but this was something that was needed of him. Drawing fully upright, Murtagh nodded and made his way to the tent pushing his war past the heavy woolen flap. Five women from Carvahall stood bunched together lamenting over the newborn. He pushed their keening out of his ear. His senses were already sensitive enough. The man, Horst, stood by the end of the cot arguing with Gertrude, the village healer. She held in her hands a bundle of blankets that Eragon assumed to cocoon the baby in. Hovering over Elain on the cot were Rosalie, Desdemona, and Katrina. They were busy wiping away the fluids and perspiration that coated the woman. He caught sight of her as she laid on the cot. Her face was gaunt and tears were streaming from her eyes. Her mouth opened and closed and she moaned incoherent words. When a mother cried for their child—it was a painful sight to behold.

He closed his eyes as he thought of the time when his mother cried, her beautiful features scrunched up as if she was fending off a blinding light, tears streaming from her warm brown eyes. He did not want to see that expression on any mother whether it was his own or another's like Islanzadí or Elain.

He stood by Arya as Murtagh approached Horst and asked to see the baby for him to heal. He saw the hesitancy in Gertrude and was slightly irked when the woman spoke up saying that she would accompany Murtagh to witness the healing. But he did not speak out for he felt Arya's hand reach out and grip his. The skin of her hand was beaded in sweat no doubt from the numerous candles in the tent. It was slight at first, her fingers gently gliding over his wrist until they wounded around his hand, intertwining with his fingers. He spared her a glance and saw in her emerald eyes how tired she looked amongst other emotions: she was fearful for the baby, anxious to see her healed, and he saw the slight tinge of hurt—hurt that she was not trusted, hurt that she would always be considered an outsider because of what she was, hurt that she was unable to help a child when her instincts and heart told her to.

He pulled her close to him discretely, knowing that his body was still radiating heat from his fever but that she needed comfort, some sort of comfort whether it was from him or Eridor to ease her mind. They followed Murtagh back to his tent as the warriors in their path quickly made way seeing their demeanor. As they reached their destination Eragon caught sight of Elva and understood that the child was there as a reminder and a warning to Murtagh to take caution in what he did and understand the weight of a child's life. The weight of pure innocence and defenselessness, the weight of utter trust because children knew nothing else but to.

Reaching Murtagh's tent, Eragon glanced at Arya when she did not make to enter after Murtagh and Gertrude. He did not question her when they went to stand by the side of the tent. She was taking precautions in order to avoid arousing suspicion that the girl was a changeling. He wanted to ask her why she went to such lengths but stopped when they heard Murtagh call her name through the thick fabric of the tent. She replied in kind, "I am here. And here I shall wait. If you have need of me, you have but to cast your thoughts in my directions and I shall come."

She fell quiet. All they could do was trust that Murtagh did right by the child and did not repeat his past mistakes. As he stood there, Eragon could feel Arya's emotions within him and knew that she was bothered even when she did not show it. "I'm sorry," said Eragon simply in the ancient language as he stood by her, the two of them taking comfort in each other's presence.

"For what?" Her reply came softly.

He did not want to bring the topic of the child and how distrust Arya was by almost everyone in Carvahall save Katrina and Roran. How she had done nothing to them and still was outcast. It was unfair but he could do nothing to change one's mindset. Instead he said something else, "For making you cook for me."

He heard her soft laugh, so soft that it was difficult for even his own hearing to catch. Arya was not what they made her out to be. She may be impassive and to a certain extent aloof, but she was also caring and when it was asked of her was always willing to lend her assistance. It was odd thought Eragon as his thoughts floated through his mind. He once was narrow minded but he found himself able to leave his back unattended to elves, dwarves, and even Urgals. He may not see eye to eye with them but he did not distrust them upon first glance. He had come a long way since his days in Urû'baen.

"And I am sorry as well," added Arya.

His response was her own, "For what?"

"For making you wait for hours in the cold when you should be resting," at her words he laughed lightly. At least she understood now how important sleep was to him at the moment.

"I can always sleep later," Eragon waved away her apology. They continued to stand together merely waiting in the silence oftentimes hearing some movement inside Murtagh's tent. Otherwise it was quiet. He had not expected Arya to speak once more but she did.

"There was a time," she began softly, Eragon paused waiting for her to continue afraid that if he made any sudden movements that Arya would simply stop speaking, "Decades ago when I joined the Varden when I found myself helping to deliver a baby. It was when the warriors had returned from a raid and were significantly injured. The healers or rather those competent enough to use magic to heal were away to tend to their wounds. A woman needed her child to be born, her husband had died fighting. I came to her aid," he felt Arya's hand tighten in his, "I helped her to give birth to the baby like how I did for your mother. It did not take long and the both of them survived. However, when a friend came by…it was not pleasant."

"Why was that?" Eragon asked cautiously, his voice soft. He could tell that she was struggling to regain her thoughts and that her emotions were coming through. His hand tightened around hers. Seemingly returning to her, she continued.

"It was not often that I was ever confronted but I was and I was accused of," her lips thinned, "Attempting to steal the woman's child. I left then later on without another word and I cannot help but wonder what became of them, the mother and baby boy."

"You do not know?" Arya shook her head. Eragon stood there and he felt an emotion pass through him. He knew that she desired family and that she only wanted to help Elain give birth. She was selfless and kind. And yet to have her treated as such made his blood boil. He wanted to hit someone or something but refrained from doing so, instead he thought of something else. He thought of a gift he could give Arya, a gift that she could only receive from him. After a moment, he spoke. "I would like to show you something Arya."

Turning his head, he met her eyes with his and he smiled faintly hoping she would not be bothered by the treatment she endured at the hands of the villagers from Carvahall. Tentatively he opened his mind to her. His thoughts were still hazy from his fever but he was glad that she opened up to him without any hesitation her thoughts easily blending together with his. _My dreams or rather hallucinations have been rather profound since I have become ill. _

He saw her lips curl upwards as her eyes closed to bathe in the warmth or rather heat of his mind at the moment. _Oh? How unusual. _It was a teasing remark but he did not retort as he usually did. Instead he searched deep in his thoughts for the hallucination or dream that he had but a few hours ago. He felt somewhat embarrassed to show it to Arya for he did not know how she would react.

_Let go Arya and simply let my thoughts carry you away, _whispered Eragon. He could feel her doing as he had asked and the image came to them as real as it was when he saw it as he slept in his fever induced state. He remembered Arya often telling him that her dreams began to drastically alter due to her fever when she was poisoned and he was sure the same had happened to him.

_A soft light bathe a room in yellow, its warmth encompassing and beautiful. The room was warm, similar to Arya's room in Tialdari Hall. But it wasn't the room that drew their attention, it was the occupants in the room. A figure was lying propped against not pillows but the legs of a person who sat behind her, gently holding her. A white sheet covered the petite frame of the ebony haired elf-woman on the bed, fluttering over her swollen belly. There were others about the bed but they were not recognizable as the couple on the bed. _

_The man whispered something and in response, the woman nodded before a song filled the room, a song so sweet it made one want to weep. They sang and sang, a lullaby which was filled with joy. Joy that touched the heart and moved the mind. And soon, the man joined in on the singing his voice standing out clearly in the song. But it did not ruin the lullaby, the emotions in the song grew and the woman leaning against his legs reached up to place a hand on his face to stare up at him. He merely smiled and in return took her hand and intertwined it with his before settling both of their hands on her swollen belly. _

_After some time, the singing started to slow into soft whispers as a cry filled the room. One of the people hovering about the bed reached forward and wrapped the baby in blankets gently washing the baby of fluids from the mother's womb. After a moment, the person walked forward and handed the content mother her baby saying in a lilting voice filled with great joy, "Your daughter, Arya Dröttningu." _

_Arya turned to stare at the man behind her, his face lit with a joy that was rarely seen. "Eragon…" she whispered as if unbelieving. He turned to her smiling as she cradled the baby to her chest for them to gaze at. _

"_Our daughter…" _

The rest of his words were lost as the image faded away. Eragon nearly fell over as he came to himself. Had it not been for the iron grip of Arya's hand on his, he no doubt would have. He turned to her and to his surprise found that a single tear had escaped from her closed eyes. Before she could open her eyes, he spoke, "There's one more I want to show you."

Reaching into the haze that was his mind, he sought to remember the details of the one he wanted her to see. It was just a brief flash in his mind but the emotions behind it were real. He felt the conviction and the tenderness of it.

_The lush green forest was alive. The sun poured through the holes in between the leaves, the insects called, and the animals bounded past. The beauty of life surrounded them and drew them in. It was a haven, safe and natural. It was a home. Soft sounds came from above as a lithe figure danced from branch to branch her long ebony hair flowing behind her, her forest green eyes bright as she took in a world that was hers. A world that loved her. She was beautiful, more so than any other living creature. Her features were soft and elegant and her skin radiated with a glow that even the sun's ray could not match. _

_Running along, she paused at a river spotting a white rose bush. Without a second thought, she gracefully climbed down and whispering soft words extracted a single rose from the bush, unharmed by the thorns that simply fell away with another whisper. Then with a smile, she bounded through the forest dancing about the roots and twirling underneath the branches with as much grace as a passing gazelle. _

_It took her but a few minutes to emerge into a meadow in which two people were waiting, hand in hand. As she neared, the tall man released the woman's hand and bent slightly as the girl ran into his waiting arms. "Hmm? What is this?" he gestured to the white rose. "Is this for me?" the pointed ear girl shook her head with a smile and laugh, "Oh? Is this for your mother?" _

"_It is," she said handing the white rose to her mother who she bore a striking semblance to. Her mother took it and gently sniffed the rose with a smile as she bent down to rest a hand on her daughter's shoulders. "Do you like it mother?" _

"_I do," the woman turned to the man as he reached out with his hand to wrap a hand around her waist, the other coming to bring their daughter close. Her smile grew teasing, "But I believe your father is slightly jealous that he did not receive one. Are you not, Eragon?" _

"_There's no need to tease me…" _

Once more the rest of the image eluded his grasp as they returned to themselves. Rapidly blinking, he heard a soft lullaby from the tent behind them but he was more focused on the person by his side. To his surprise, he found that Arya was crying. He had only meant to comfort her. Startled, Eragon reached for her wrapping her in his embrace as he tucked her head against the crook of his neck her tears cool on his heated skin.

"I'm sorry—" he started but she shook her head.

"No," she whispered softly against his neck, "I do not want your apology Eragon. What I saw—what you showed me—it made me happy, happy beyond belief."

He was relieved, "I was unsure of whether to show you or not," murmured Eragon as he waited for her to come to herself, "I was sleeping and my fever was plaguing me but I saw those dreams and was glad that they came. It may be mere dreams now Arya but when this is all over I will not leave them as dreams." It was his promise to her. They had spoken about children and he understand her desire for a family ever since Ella was born. Now, he was sure of himself. Certain that he could become the person he was in those dreams.

"Thank you," the both of them did not notice that the singing in Murtagh's tent had subsided nor how much time had passed before they were startled by a baby's loud voice, releasing a cry with great enthusiasm. Pulling away from Arya, they went to see as Murtagh strode out from his tent to the semicircle of people gathered about his tent. He and Arya went to stand by Blödhgarm and the others. Arya's tears were gone to be replaced with a guarded expression but he could still see the happiness in her eyes.

They watched as Murtagh handed Horst his baby daughter, his expression changing into one of profound happiness. It was the same expression that the Arya in his dreams bore when she set sight on their daughter, the same expression he wore. It was one of such joy that it could be mistaken for grief. Murtagh had done it thought Eragon as she saw the baby no longer had a cat lip but a proper mouth now. Beside him, he could feel the elves' happiness at a child saved and a sense of respect for Murtagh.

Hearing that Horst was going to call her Hope, Eragon thought the name agreed with the girl. She was after all a light of hope as was every child. As everyone had their turn to stare and observe the baby girl, Eragon stepped forward with Arya to take a look at Hope. Ignoring Horst's tense posture, he observed the happy baby and could see that Arya was glad that she was happy. Then the elves followed suit. Not lingering, Eragon tugged on Arya's hand and she followed him as they weaved through the tents to his parents' tent. He found them inside with his mother cooing at Ella where she laid cushioned in the crook of her elbow. "Oh, I did not think I would see you two today," his mother smiled at them. Brom was sitting on the cot observing his mother with twinkling blue eyes.

"I just wanted to see Ella," said Eragon simply. He was positive that he was in no condition to hold her afraid that his fevered state would be unhealthy for her. His mother merely smiled and then without hesitation asked Arya to hold and look after Ella as she and Brom went to see if they could find something to eat. Shifting Ella in her arms naturally, Arya took a seat on the cot and Eragon took a seat beside her leaving distance between them as they stared at Ella.

She was staring up at them brightly, not frightened as if she knew who they were. That was no doubt a result of the gift that the dragons gave her for she seemed to recognize them as family and not strangers. Then without warning, she reached forward and grabbed Arya's hair and looked as if she was going to eat it. But Arya merely smiled and whispered to her against doing so in the ancient language and instead Ella merely kept her hand in her hair. Then as if she was unable to help herself, Arya reached down and gently kissed Ella's temple.

Eragon watched as she pulled away with a blinding smile when Ella merely cried out happily, accepting Arya. He was going to have to embrace Ella when he was better thought Eragon as he stared at his baby sister as Arya spoke to her.

As he stared at Arya his mind wandered back to the dreams that he had while he was sleeping earlier. They felt like hallucinations from his fever but then again they felt like something more. Eyes wandering back to Arya and Ella once more, he smiled.

One day instead of Ella, Arya would be holding her own child.

He heard the whispers of his dreams in his mind as he observed them. _Our daughter…_

**What do you all think? Personally I wrote this chapter this way because as I was rereading the original birth scene, I felt as if Arya was so black and white for some reason. I wanted to portray a deeper insight to her character not as the person as Eragon simply chases after in the original but as a person who does actually have feelings. It just gives Arya's character more warmth in my opinion. And as for those dreams...are they really dreams? Hehehe...you'll find out. On a side note, these story is almost at 2,000 reviews! Wow I am impressed with you guys. Anyways, see you all soon! **


	79. Chapter 75

Chapter 75

**Hello everyone! Tomorrow is the 4th of July everyone or rather it is for me, you guys probably already passed it. Anyways, here is another chapter and as much ExA as I have been writing, this is a slow break away from it. Anyways, it has been about 8 chapters I believe since the last lemon and because tomorrow is a festive day, I shall see that I incorporate one. A healthy does of lemons is always needed. Anyways R&R! **

Staring up at the starry night sky, Eragon sighed feeling rather empty. It had been three days now since he had lost the gamble with Eridor. At the thought of it, he felt as if he was cheated. Of all the times Arya had to indulge him and despite the fact that he tried to argue with the green dragon that Arya was moved by his dreams and cautious of his health, he was declared the loser in the gamble and as such he had to abide by the terms that Eridor set. As he had thought, it was difficult—painfully difficult—to keep to himself when he was near Arya. He always had an urge to just reach out and touch her as if it was ingrained into his being. However, he had tried his best to stomp them out and proudly accept his defeat with grace. What was more was the fact that she was not helping. He had a growing suspicion that she was acting affectionate to merely show him the consequences of taking such a gamble. At the thought of Arya, he sighed. She was not as affected by their lack of physical contact as much as he was or maybe he was just a fiend thought Eragon morbidly.

There was something different about her thought Eragon, the last few days playing over in his mind. He wasn't sure what it was about Arya that had changed but she appeared to have grown even more determined if that was possible. Sitting near the outskirts of the Varden's camp, Eragon merely thought of the past few days. As Nasuada had planned, the Varden had broke camp to reorganize and march towards Dras-Leona. It was a tiring and tedious procedure that took much preparation but it was unavoidable. He marched with the Varden and when he was not marching with them, he was sitting on the side watching Murtagh spar with a variety of opponents that included Rosalie, Arya, and Blödhgarm. His brother was getting better especially with Glaedr training him on the way. The golden dragon had spoken to Eragon on numerous occasions and had often called for a session in which he, Murtagh, and Arya would gather so that they would speak directly to Oromis through Glaedr.

While often times Oromis spoke to them about the progress or lack thereof on the three Eldunarí within their grasp, they devoted a significant amount of time in trying to formulate a plan that would be effective against Galbatorix. During those planning sessions, Eragon kept the concept of the true name of Alagaësia hidden. He did not want to stir any sort of confusion or false hope. He still wanted to see whether or not what Elva told him had any possibilities of becoming a way of hope for them.

The night air gently blew past him as he sat there comforted in the stillness of night. As he sat there, he felt his mind trail off to the many tasks that he had asked of Arya and he couldn't help but chuckle at how she didn't deny him. Now that he thought about it, he wondered what she thought of when she heard him ask of her such things. She was no doubt amused.

_The limit is a day. _

_Eridor's terms rang in his head, clear and challenging. Recovered from his fever, Eragon was lying awake on his cot with Arya's back pressed against his as they slept on their side. It was nearing the crack of dawn meaning that they had slept for a great deal. He blinked as he stared down at Arya, knowing that she was going to be waking soon. Already, his first request was coming to mind. When he felt her stretch like a cat within his arms, Eragon tightened his grip about her and closed his eyes burying his nose into her hair. Feigning sleep despite the fact that he felt rejuvenated, Eragon murmured against her ear. _

"_No, let us sleep for but a while longer," it was a request he made to her almost every waking morning. One that she denied without a second thought but then to his surprise, he felt her nod before she relaxed in the embrace of his arms and continued her rest. To say he was shocked was an understatement. _

_The following day went by with the same feelings but different situations. He had asked her to see if she could possibly cook for him again albeit in a rather embarrassed manner and she did. The list of requests grew and she denied only a few out of the many that he asked her that he knew she would not do. Or rather, he thought she would not give any consideration to. But she did. When he heard Eridor's rumbling laughter echo in his mind throughout the day, Eragon had the last straw. Marching up to Arya as she was busy speaking with a page, he held out a verdant green dress his face the same shade as Thorn's scale. _

_She stared at him with an amused expression as her eyes took in the dress. "Is there something you needed Eragon?" asked Arya as she turned away from the young page for the moment. Eragon felt as if his face was radiating heat that was akin to a fever as he nodded. _

"_My mother wanted to have a family dinner and so I thought, if you would like, you could wear this," at her raised brow, he hurriedly elaborated, "Only because they have yet to see you in a dress as beautiful as this. Of course, if you do not want to, your regular attire will suffice." Eragon hurriedly added the second option hoping that she would indeed settle for her regular leather clothing. After a long moment, Arya to his surprise reached out for the dress. _

He could clearly remember the shock that traveled through him immobilizing him to the spot. It wasn't until Saphira told him until later that it was how he had asked and the reason for his asking that Arya had decided to wear it to dinner. Had he but demanded it of her, she would have denied him and no doubt given him quite the glare. Ever since he had lost the gamble, Eragon had taken comfort far from Arya's tent on the outskirts of the Varden's camp where he sat and merely let his mind wander. Tonight was no different.

As he sat there, off in the distance, he heard men talking as they stood around a watchfire. The night air carried their voices farther than they intended, far enough that his keen ears were able to make out their words. Finding their conversation an unwanted distraction, Eragon merely let their words flow over him. He needed something to keep his attention diverted.

A deep-voiced fellow was saying, "—and the way they stare down their noses at you, as if you're the lowest of the low. Half of the time they won't even talk to you when you ask them a friendly question. They just turn their shoulder and walk away." Eragon did not need any hints as to who it was they were talking about.

"Aye," said another man. "And their women—as beautiful as statues and about half as inviting." At this comment, Eragon was unsure of how to react. He did agree that elven women were indeed beautiful and they were often withdrawn but 'inviting' was not the word to describe them. Besides, it was unlike an elf to suddenly be taken for a tryst of some sort. They were too noble for that.

"That's because you're a right ugly bastard, Svern, that's why."

The conversation continued with jabbing at each men before a third speaker entered the conversation: "I don't like the elves any more than you do, but we need them to win this war."

"What if they turn on us afterward, though?" asked the deep-voiced man.

"Hear, hear," added Svern. "Look what happened at Ceunon and Gil'ead. All his men, all his power, and Galbatorix still couldn't stop them from swarming over the walls." Eragon's frown deepened, he did not like their word choice and had half the mind to teach them proper diction before the conversation continued.

"If the elves decided to reclaim their territories we would have no chances in holding them off. They're faster and stronger than we are, and unlike us there's not one of them who can't use magic."

"Ah, but we have Murtagh," Svern countered. "He could drive them back to their forest all by himself, if he wanted to." At this Eragon had to stifle a chuckle. Whoever this person was, he had high hopes for his brother. Even though Murtagh was a Dragon Rider, he was not capable of taking on the elves single handily. It was a foolish thought. Even Eragon could not fight off the might of all the elves at once. And he was positive that Galbatorix would be hard pressed in a battle against them as well.

"Him? Bah! He looks more like an elf than he does his own flesh and blood. I wouldn't count on his loyalty any more than the Urgals'. Not to mention his brother, he's already shown where his loyalty lies and it isn't with us. The moment the elves decide to turn against us, he'll follow tail. His woman is the elven ambassador."

The third man spoke up again: "You think he would?"

"Why wouldn't he? He betrayed his Empire before without a second thought. And he also flew off to join the elves to fight at Gil'ead when he should have stayed with us as we took Feinster. That speaks for itself."

Deciding that he had heard enough of the conversation, Eragon returned to himself tuning out the unwanted noises as he thought of what he had heard. It would appear that some of the men in the Varden only still held distrust for them. Eragon understood if he was still distrusted but he was somewhat irritated that they spoke so of Murtagh and Arya—both of whom devoted themselves to the Varden's cause. Once more it was the ignorance of others that ate away at him. When this was all over, he was unsure as to how the races would act. Would they separate once more or would it be as Arya said? Would they form a cooperation together? It seemed hard to believe at the moment.

Just as he was thinking, he felt a strange presence nearby. It was familiar but at the same time it wasn't. Unsure of what it was, Eragon stood he fought the urge to withdraw Brisingr from its sheath as he stepped towards the direction of the strange presence. He could hear it all about him, a faint whispering that was calling to him. It was beckoning to him as if he were a friend that was long lost. His eyes saw them in the distance, orbs of light floating towards him. Spirits. His eyes darted back to the camp, if someone unknowingly attack them it could end up in a disaster thought Eragon wryly. With what encounters he had had with spirits he knew how fickle they could be. Not deterred, Eragon slowly walked to meet them counting about thirteen spirits. They were all of different colors, a multitude of rainbows and he remembered then that Arya and Murtagh had also encountered spirits while in the borders of the Empire.

He stared at them not sure of how to approach them but the whispering continued to grow until it sounded like voices that were overlapping each other. He stood there as they hovered before him. There was something about them that was familiar thought Eragon, something about them that pulled him in. Standing there he watched as one emerald orb broke away from the cloud of spirits and floated over to him and immediately the great wreath of energy from the spirit was tangible causing his hair to stand up on end. The orb pulsed before him blanketing him with warmth and it appeared as if it wanted him to do something.

After a long moment, Eragon reached up and wrapped his hand about the orb. A sensation of utter happiness traveled the length of his arm striking him in the core. He heard the voice in his head speaking and whispering to him. It was trying to tell him something but he could not make out what exactly. As he struggled to keep his thoughts in line, he felt a tug within his body as if his own soul wanted to run amuck Alagaësia.

Opening his eyes, having not realized that he had closed them Eragon watched with wide eyes as the green orb sunk into his hand as if his skin was nonexistent. Immediately, his body convulsed at the sensation of another spirit within him and then as if spurred on by the green orb the rest of the spirits began to sink within him through his chest, arms, and legs. His body pulsing Eragon felt his mind waver. Unable to remain in control of what his body was doing, he toppled to the ground.

It hurt and yet it didn't thought Eragon as he laid there unable to stand due to the intense amount of sensation that rippled through his body. He felt warm and his mind was blurry. What could they possible want with him? He wanted to ask them that but his mouth would not move. Surge after surge of energy pulsed within him so strong that he felt as if his body was being ripped apart and sowed back together.

The energy continued until he felt it touch his very soul, he wanted to scream at the sudden contact. Almost immediately his vision wavered before his very eyes until he blacked out. He only hoped that someone found his body otherwise he was left for the dead since he had wandered away from the Varden after sensing the spirits nearby.

"_Wake up," his eyelids twitched as he heard a gentle voice call for him. Blinking, Eragon found himself staring at the ground. What was he doing here? The thought dully crossed his mind as he began to regain awareness of his surroundings. His eyes fluttering open and closed, Eragon blinked when he heard the voice call for him again. "Wake up." _

_Not sure what this voice wanted, he pushed himself to his feet stumbling slightly as he stood. It was eerily quiet and there was a gray mist that covered his surroundings. Behind him, he caught sight of the shadow of the Varden camp but no sound emanated from the cluster of tents. It was as if time had stood still for him. "What is going on?" _

"_How are you feeling?" he whirled about to find a young girl standing before him. His eyes caught sight of her pointed ears. An elf? But he did not recognize her nor had he saw an elf with flowing blond hair before. Frowning Eragon reached for Brisingr but found that there was no sword at his hip or strapped to his back. She shook her head as she saw his actions, "I'm sorry but you won't be able to use your swords here." _

"_Where is this place?" asked Eragon staring at the girl in surprise. _

"_Alagaësia," was her simple answer. Her eyes traveled from him to the ground and unable to help himself he found his eyes following hers and was rattled to the very core when he saw himself lying on the ground unmoving. It was an unnatural experience to stare down at oneself. He could make out the pommels of Brisingr and Vrangr in the darkness. Without breathing, he crouched down to observe himself. Was he sleeping? Was this a dream? "You are just traveling."_

"_Traveling?" Eragon turned back to the blond elf. "What do you mean traveling?" _

"_What I mean is what I said," she walked forward and crouched beside him to study his motionless body. "What you see on the ground is your physical body," at his startled expression she continued to explain to him, "Your soul is currently separated from your body." His heart pounded in his chest or what he thought was his heart. If his physical body was lying before him than his heart was as well. _

"_But why? I am not a spirit. I was born human," asked Eragon. How was he supposed to right this? How did he return to his body? He reached down to touch his shoulder as if to shake himself awake but his fingers merely passed through his own body. "Am I dead?" _

"_No," the elf shook her head, "But neither are you alive. Simply think of this place as an in between of the dead and the living, a sort of purgatory to those bound to wander Alagaësia." _

"_Bound to wander?" his eyes flickered to Vrangr, the meaning of his sword ringing within him. She nodded and made no move to elaborate on her words after a moment, he turned to stare up at her, "Who are you?" _

"_You can call Areth," she answered, her brows were furrowed, "You are the first of your kind that we have met and I apologize for our enthusiasm."_

"_Your enthusiasm?" Eragon did not move from his crouched position as he stared up at her. She nodded gesturing to his body with an elegant finger. _

"_When we came into contact with your soul, it resembled what we are and our magic had pulled you into our realm on its own instinct," explained Areth. "No other creature can wander this in-between, only spirits can for we are not bound to the physical world and can pass through the barrier." Just as she was speaking, the gray mist shifted slightly to reveal several figures hovering over his prone body. Rosalie and Blödhgarm were hovering about him and he could see the distress on his servant's face as she reached down to shake him awake. He thought it might cause for him to wake up but it did not. Instead, his body continued to sleep. "Without a soul, your body is but a mere shell with no thoughts or feelings." _

"_How do I return to my body?" asked Eragon with a frown. Areth stared at him her amber eyes thoughtful. After a moment she spoke, but rather slowly as if she was unsure of what she was going to say to him. _

"_That I do not know, never before has a soul of a living creature been pulled from its body and still survive in this plane and the physical world," her eyes slid to his with a questioning expression, "You are the first that has ever managed to do so. It is a curious thing. Very curious in fact." _

_Eragon's frown deepened and he fought down the rising panic. He watched as Blödhgarm pulled his body up into sitting position and his head lolled on his shoulders as he hunched forward motionless. The mist shifted again and he saw her there and how distress she appeared as she held his face in her hands speaking to him. But her words did not reach him where he stood. At the sight of Arya, Areth made her way over to her. _

"_She feels the same as you," Areth commented causing Eragon to turn to the spirit with a warning look. As if understanding the thoughts that were crossing his thoughts, she nodded, "Do not worry, I will see to it that I remain away from her to prevent from drawing her in." The mist shifted again causing the sight of them to disappear leaving them standing in the gray mist like place which seemed to be in a perpetual night. "Walk with me." _

_Hesitant to leave the spot where he stood, he followed after a moment unsure what exactly was going on. Areth did not seem intent on harming him nor helping him. It appeared as if she just wanted company. As he walked by her side, her eyes returned to his, "And what is it that I need to call you by?" _

"_Eragon," at his answer her eyes widened slightly in surprise but she made no comment as to explain her reaction to his name. Instead she nodded. _

"_Fitting indeed, very much so," murmured Areth. As they walked, Eragon glanced at Areth. Could she be one of the spirits that came to him before he had collapsed unable to control his body? When he asked her she nodded, "I was the one who approached you." _

"_Where are your companions?" asked Eragon remembering that he had stumbled upon thirteen spirits rather than one. _

"_Wandering about," came her reply. It seemed as if they were doing just the thing thought Eragon as he glanced about the place. This was Alagaësia, but an in-between as Areth had said. Trying to focus, he took in a deep breath before he spoke once more. _

"_Are you an elf?" _

_She glanced at him, "No, spirits do not have a physical body. I only took on this appearance because in your thoughts you were most comfortable about the elves than any other race. Think of it as a means to ease your thoughts." _

_That explained the golden hair thought Eragon as he nodded. His thoughts wandered to Durza, Asura, and the Shade that Arya had defeated, "Are you like a Shade then?" the moment the words left his lips, Areth frowned looking as if she was wholly offended. Deciding to keep silent rather than apologize he watched as she drew herself up right. _

"_No, I am not a Shade and if you do not want to risk offending a more sensitive spirit you will do well to remember not to ask such a question here," said Areth coolly as they continued to wander. Eragon did not reply. After a few moments, she spoke, "Do you understand the makings of a Shade, Eragon?" _

"_No, just some basic knowledge about them," Eragon replied. _

_Areth inclined her head as if the information did not surprise, "Yes, I would say that is a suitable answer. There are few Shades created in Alagaësia," she paused before continuing, "When a magician or several magicians create a shade, they use a medium which is a human body to house the spirits in. What you call summoning is merely a breach through different planes. When you summon a spirit, you are calling out to it as it wanders the in-between. If you are strong enough, the spirit rather we, will answer to you. However, crossing between the boundaries that separate the different planes takes a create deal of energy for the summoner to maintain." _

"_A Shade is a different process from merely summoning a spirit. When a ritual is performed to create a shade, usually several magicians are needed to complete the process. A body is offered as a medium and in calling the spirits, they are soon trapped and encased in the offered medium. When such a thing happens and the spirits merge with the body, a Shade is created and only hatred is left behind for there is a loss of happiness as we become entrapped in the physical world, a world that we are not part of. That is why Shades are capricious to create and can sway one way or the other depending on how they merely feel." _

_Her eyes darted to Eragon and she said in a serious voice, "That is why you, Eragon Shadeslayer, and your mate, did us a great deed by killing Durza and Varaug. You allowed them to return to this plane and rest as they should."_

"_I do not understand. If you want to rest, why do you keep wandering Alagaësia? The physical one?" asked Eragon his mind constantly trying to think of new theories that did not make sense to him. Areth regarded him with a critical expression as if she was deeming him worthy or not of her knowledge. _

"_We are in search of something," Areth paused causing Eragon to draw up short. "We are searching for a key to awaken her." _

"_Her?" For a moment, Eragon doubted that Areth was not an elf. She spoke and carried herself like one and was reluctant to offer him simple and straight forward answers. Areth may be a spirit but she could be born an elf if she desired to be one. _

_She turned to him nodding solemnly, "Yes, we have been searching for her since she had deserted us— ever since her children came to Alagaësia. Long before the dawn of civilization for she has abandoned us in her sleep." _

"_Who is this she?" asked Eragon curiously. _

_Areth paused once more and again, it appeared that she was determining whether or not his ears were the ones that could bear witness to what she was about to say. Eventually she nodded to herself as if to reassure herself that he could be trusted, "She is Alagaësia. You, too, are looking for her are you not?" _

"_I am," it appeared as if the one moment that he came into contact with Areth was enough for her to see through his memories and thoughts. Therefore she must know what it was that he sought when speaking of Alagaësia. Her eyes were bright as she spoke. _

"_You are searching but you are searching about it wrongly," said Areth, "It exists and can be found but the ease of such a journey is nonexistent. There is a key, Eragon Shadeslayer, a key to bring her forth from her slumber." _

"_You keep saying slumber," Eragon pointed out trying to understand how it is the Alagaësia was slumbering, "I do not understand what it is that you mean by slumber. Is it similar to how the Menoa Tree slumbers?" _

"_Yes and no," Areth thoughtfully brushed her hair over her shoulder and Eragon had to remind himself that she was only doing this for his convenience. She was trying not to unsettle him by remaining too still or unmoving. After all, Areth had no physical body and did not need to constantly shift at he did. "When her children, the rulers of the sky—the dragons, were born she drew back into her slumber to rest while they protected her realm. However, all was not how it should be for then the dwarves arrived and raged war with the dragons and soon, elves came and they too fought with those born of Alagaësia. The amount of blood that was both her children's and of the dwarves and elves pushed her deeper into slumber for peace was lost and she could not return from the sea of blood that blanketed her." _

"_However, when Eragon the first Dragon Rider appeared there was hope in that Alagaësia would awaken for now she has adopted another child through the pact made between the two races. We had thought that it would be enough to move her but it did not even amount to a gentle prod. Centuries passes as the Dragon Riders grew until Galbatorix emerged and betrayed the order. Now with only a few of her children remaining, her dragons, She has become desolate and refuses to wake. What was once her peace has become your war. You have wrought havoc and have caused her to abandon this land as she slumbers." _

"_Have you found any means as to how to wake her?" asked Eragon as he digested the great amount of knowledge that Areth had bestowed upon him. She was old thought Eragon, much older than he thought she was._

"_We have tried, in one instant we came very close," said Areth, "You have heard of Thuviel, the elf who converted his flesh to energy I presume," Eragon nodded, "We gave him the means to do so. To convert one's flesh to energy is to reverse the flow of magic that flows through the body. And such, we helped Thuviel to reverse his flow of magic and let it pour outwards rather than to contain it. When one uses their own flesh as energy, its great power for life has no limits and therefore Vroengard suffered heavily and became poisoned by the conversion for the energy has seeped into its ground. When the explosion took place, it was more than a prod for Alagaësia to awaken. It was a crude request on our part. She stirred but with the lack of her children's presence remained unmoved." _

_Eragon shivered as he took in Areth's words. She spoke of Thuviel's death as if it was nothing more than a page in history. It reminded him that she was indeed not a creature like those he'd met in his life. "If you tried to wake her that way why continue to search for a key?" _

"_They are two different things Shadeslayer, waking her with such methods will not always ensure that she will answer our call. However, if we find the key we will be able to enter her sanctuary and speak with her, that is our wish and that is our purpose as we search Alagaësia. Little else matters to us," Areth concluded with a rather chilling look. They were singled minded spirits were. _

_Key, he thought of the vast land of Alagaësia from the mountains to the open fields. It would be impossible to search every nook and cave for this key. Even in his lifetime he was unsure of whether or not he would be able to find this key that Areth was speaking of. "Have you ever visited her sanctuary before?" _

_Areth's eyes were cast downward momentarily before she lifted them to gaze at him. She shook her head, "No, but that is our place. Spirits wander Alagaësia on their own whim but we do not belong there. No, we belong in her sanctuary at rest just as you do not belong here but rather in Alagaësia," after a moment she smiled slightly as if she enjoyed their conversation, "Is there anything else you would like to ask of me? I feel as if your time here shall soon come to an end." _

"_There is," murmured Eragon, "You said that dragons were her children. Are they really?" _

"_They are, just like how Helzvog made the stout and sturdy dwarves from the stone of the Hadarac Desert. She gave birth to the dragons and endowed them with her strength and magic. The reason why dragons are capable to doing magic that they are not capable of controlling is because they reach deep within their very being for the magic. And that magic comes from Alagaësia. Such a form of ancient magic is evidence of her gift to them." _

"_And what of the elves?" asked Eragon curiously. The elves had devoted a greater part of their life to sustaining Alagaësia, having even given up their desire of flesh to preserve such life. Areth's smile widened slightly. _

"_The elves, you may say, are beloved by Alagaësia. They may have sailed to her, but they have become one with her," said Areth, "Their energy that they willing give her sustains her and thus Du Weldenvarden thrives and is protected. However, all races now are her children despite their squabbles, past and present." _

"_I see," he blinked when he felt a familiar tug on his soul. _

"_Your soul bond is calling for you," said Areth. Though he was glad that there seemed to be a way for him to return to his physical body, Eragon did not want to leave yet. It seemed as if Areth had all the answers to his question and he wanted to ask her more. Feeling rather pressed for time, Eragon paved forward. _

"_You said that you were looking for this key to her sanctuary, if I found it would I be able to see her?" _

"_If you are able to enter the in-between than you are able to enter her sanctuary but I will be careful if you do ever step foot into her domain for all is not what it seems Eragon. The truth and what was the truth holds no relevance in her sanctuary." _

_There was a shimmer in the gray mist as it parted to reveal a pathway to him. He could feel the presence of Arya and the others waiting for him down the path. He hesitated and turned back to Areth, "If I find your key will you do me a favor, Areth? You and your companions?" _

There was a rustle of noises and he heard someone say loudly, "He is waking!" Then two hands grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly shook him making him even more disoriented than when he woke. He heard voices speak in displeased tones as the person continued to shake him. "Lord Eragon! Can you hear me? Are you able to understand—"

Grabbing Bard by his wrist, he snapped the bone in his anger at being constantly shaken. His cook let out a yell jumping backwards as he gripped his broken wrist saying in a pained filled voice, "Lord Eragon is fine. He was just sleeping."

Tiredly blinking, he glanced down at himself to find that he was indeed back in his physical body but he still felt disoriented as he thought of the fact that he was staring down at his own body before. Before he could move, a curtain of black hair blocked his eyes as he was embraced by Arya. Almost immediately, he was about to move away as he thought of his gamble with Eridor but her arms tightened around his neck as she said in a soft voice by his ear, "Four days have passed Eragon."

Trying to focus his mind, he reached up to embrace her softly about the waist feeling her worry pour through him. After a moment, she extracted herself from him to sit before him. His eyes wandering about the tent, Eragon took in the familiar interior of the tent he shared with Arya. He was currently sitting on their cot. Off to the side were his servants, Bard still healing his broken wrist. Beside them was Murtagh looking as if he had slept a decent amount of hours.

"How do you feel?" asked Arya as she sat before him watching him with her bright eyes. He reached up with a hand to rub his face tiredly.

"Disoriented," muttered Eragon tiredly, "What happened?"

"I was returning after an errand for Angela and found your passed out on the ground Lord Eragon," said Rosalie from where she stood by Desdemona, "I called for Blödhgarm to come and see if there was anything wrong with you but you would not wake. Arya came and we carried you back to your tent."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Only a few hours," Arya answered and he could tell that she wanted to speak with him privately but was unable to due to the presence of the others. His eyes darted to his servants who were all waiting on him. He coughed clearing his throat slightly.

"I was merely tired," said Eragon despite their disbelieving stares, "There is nothing to worry about. You may return to your original duties," when they made no move to leave, Eragon raised his brow. "Since when have you four ignored my orders?"

"Of course my lord," they replied before reluctantly taking their leave. Eragon glanced at Murtagh. His half-brother looked as if he wanted to say something but merely nodded. He stood and too left. When the tent flap fell to cover them from the outside world once more he turned back to Arya to find her staring at him with such a furious expression that he was surprised he was still alive. He blinked wondering what it was that he had done.

"What happened?" asked Arya in the ancient language effectively cornering him. He blinked thinking of a way to answer her. He did not want to tell her about his experience with the spirits yet, he wanted to keep it a secret until he could find out exactly what it was that transpired.

"I fell unconscious," said Eragon with ease. That was true, he did fall unconscious. She stared at him and he was afraid that she would continue to interrogate him but after a moment, she sighed. She leaned forward and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Be careful Eragon, whatever it is that happened, make sure it does not happen again," she warned him softly. He nodded unable to make the promise to her in the ancient language. Instead, he wrapped his arms about her and gathered her against him. Feeling his senses return to him fully, he smiled down at her.

"Eridor told you about our gamble?" asked Eragon with a smile. She snorted her hand coming up to rest against the back of his neck, her fingers twining with locks of his hair. He shifted slightly under her glad that he was able to once more feel her caresses.

"He did and I must admit, you are very foolish," Arya murmured as her lips ghosted across the skin of his neck. "To think you believe that I do not indulge you and your silly requests." He chuckled as he thought of the requests that she spoke about. He reached up to run his fingers through her hair his heart pounding in his chest as he missed her silky tresses. "It is common that I indulge my mate every once and a while." Her lips pressed to his jugular.

"And of all the times you chose to do so it was four days ago," said Eragon as she lightly laughed her trilling laugh that made him feel rather pleasant. After a moment, he brought back the topic at hand, "Will you wait until I tell you what it is that happened?"

"Of course, I believe in you Eragon," that was all she had to say to ease the tension in his body which still felt somewhat alien to him. After a moment, he titled his head to stare directly into her eyes with a faint smile watching as her own smile graced her lips. Leaning his head down until their noses brushed, he sighed content.

"I am glad," murmured Eragon as she leaned up slightly, her lips barely touching his causing his arms to tighten about her.

"For what?" her breath caressed his face as he leaned forward ever so slightly to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. He didn't answer her but he knew she understood him. Rather than making love to her, he knew that she was just as tired as he was from the day's event and instead, he leaned down and spent his time gently exchanging kisses with her until they both fell asleep. When he woke, he was going to show her just how much four days without being with her had done to him. Now, however, he let his dreams take him dreams of his future which involved Arya, a possible family, and a key—a key to awaken Alagaësia.

**So...what do you think? Anyways, those in America have a safe 4th of July and for those who don't live here. Be safe anyways! Anyways, review peoples, it is highly appreciated! Apart from that I have nothing else to say. You'll just have to keep reading to find out what happens next! See you all soon! Which may or may not be tomorrow since I'll be spending time with my beautiful family. **


	80. Chapter 76

Chapter 76

**Hello everyone! I am back from my holiday break and I must say it was rather fun and colorful! Anyone shoot off fireworks yesterday? Anyways here is my chapter to you all and as promised there is a lemon. Instead of putting in the bold words this time, I decided not to because I did not want to disrupt the flow of the chapter. But anyways, when you come across it if you don't want to read it please just scroll down to the end of it. :) Anyways, R&R everyone! **

Leona Lake was large and filled with boats and ships making it difficult for her to find a spot where she could bathe in peace without worrying needlessly over the fact that someone could wander to the shore of the lake and see her. Though she was going to be soon covered in blood and gore once more, Arya always appreciated a bath. It was just in her nature. Hygiene was always a priority—at least in her people's view. Not a last spec of dirt was tolerated.

Shifting through the bushes before her, Arya emerged near the shoreline of Leona Lake; it was an isolate area from the main part of the lake since it was too shallow with jagged rocks for ships and boats to maneuver through easily. Not only that but it was also far from the Varden's camp and therefore bode no danger to her as she took a moment to clean herself. Walking to the shore, she bent down and dipped her finger into the water. It was cool but not unbearably so. She stood and with one last glance about began to undress, removing her clothing with ease. Folding them neatly into a pile by the shore, she laid Támerlein directly atop of her leather clothing, keeping her emerald blade closest at reach.

Her fingers sliding through her hair, she slowly entered the water. The natural impulse to shiver was a shock through her body but Arya repressed it. She was not a stranger to bathing in such coolness but it was difficult to control her body's natural response to the temperature of the lake. After a few moments of acquainting herself with the cool water, she sighed leaning back into the water letting it flow over her limbs and cleanse her.

_A cleansing before the battle. _

How ironic. Gathering the tips of her long hair in her hands, she stared at the wet strands. They were dark against her fair skin, which appeared to glow in the moonlight. It was a breathtaking luminance that oftentimes made her take pause. Releasing her hair, she started to gently wash her skin. For the past weeks, they had been marching to Dras-Leona—the last obstacle that stood between them and the gates of Urû'baen. To say that she was not worried would be a lie. Truthfully, she was worried more so than she let on to others. It would be but a month—two at most—before they reached Urû'baen and confronted Galbatorix.

Long had she waited to face the traitor king. Ever since she heard of her father's fall at Iliera by Galbatorix and his Forsworn, she had sworn to herself that she would see to it that Galbatorix paid in full for his crimes against her and her people as well as the whole of Alagaësia. That was seventy years ago. A soft breath escaped her as her fingers stopped to rest on the yawë that was inked into her shoulder. She had been so sure then when she accepted the yawë but now she was uncertain of where her confidence had gone.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she remembered the stinging pain of receiving the tattoo and how in that pain, she had made a promise that she would carry the burdens of her people, of her mother, until the end of time. Devoted, unswerving, and determined to her obligations that was Arya Dröttningu. Had that changed? Had the elf that left Du Weldenvarden seven decades ago no longer exist?

_No…_It wasn't that she no longer existed, it was that she had grown, constantly changing as the years went by. From a youngling who enjoyed the beauty of life, the laughter and happiness it brought, and the vibrant emotions that accompanied it she had changed into an aloof person, afraid to let others see through her, and outright in her thoughts. _I was Arya Dröttningu and now I am Arya Dröttningu, elven ambassador, Rider of the emerald dragon Eridor, and Shadeslayer. I thought I understood myself…_

Closing her eyes, she submerged herself in the water content to disappear but for a few moments beneath the surface of the lake and cloak herself from the world. A few seconds passed and she emerged, her hair fully drenched in water clinging in clumps against her back. A breath escaped her as she took in the sight of Helgrind, its ominous shadow against the night sky. It was a reminder, a reminder to her that their time was limited and soon they would be marching upon the Gates of Hell itself.

Arya shivered and she knew that it was not from the water, she was now used to the coolness of the liquid. Fear, she hated the feeling. It made her feel weak and when she was left to her own devices its chilling grip would wrap itself about her and threaten to devour her whole. She was not afraid of dying. No, she accepted the thoughts of death and whatever it would bring the moment she left her home seventy years ago. What frightened her the most was the thought of losing the one she cared about most.

_The true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself, it's having to watch those you care about being hurt._

She understood that, she experience it repeatedly throughout her life. But the thought had returned to her with a vengeance as they neared Dras-Leona. She was afraid of experiencing the agony of losing her loved ones once more. She was not foolish to think that they would be unscathed in their battle against Galbatorix. He had but a century to accumulate his strength and now they were going to march valiantly into battle to either become the victors or to accept their defeat with their deaths as a result.

It was hope against hope. A possibility and an impossibility.

More than once, she found herself questioning the possibility of defeating Galbatorix. On a whim, he could easily sweep them to the side if he were annoyed. It was a game that he was playing with them. He was willing to exhaust all of his pawns, drawing them to his castle where he would no doubt come forth and punish them. Was this brazen audacity? Was this bravery?

_I have become a spineless coward, _thought Arya as she submerged herself into the lake once more to clear her thoughts. The moment she emerged, she took in a deep breath. But her thoughts remained plaguing her and suffocating her making the night and the darkness seem more alive. It was as if there was a shadow lurking nearby watching her, waiting for her to lower her guard before pouncing at her. Her hand tightened as she washed her hair staring into her dim reflection in the lake, the full moon illuminating the darkness if only slightly.

Staring at herself, she thought of her mother. Queen Islanzadí was strong, imposing, and brave. She was the epitome of a true leader one that would take Arya centuries to even come close to. Despite that, her mother was still not invincible. She was as susceptible to death as anyone was. The thought of seeing her mother struck down made her gasp slightly as her eyes stung. When she had left Du Weldenvarden, Arya had left with a promise that she would protect her people and her mother. But now it seemed as if her mother might face the same death her father, Evandar, did. She may not survive the battle for Urû'baen, the battle against Galbatorix.

Would Urû'baen be her mother's final resting place like her father's?

It was terrifying. Her chest heaved slightly as the image of Faölin and Glenwing falling from their steeds flashed before her eyes. And unbidden by her the many thoughts of her father's death kept returning to her. How did he die? Was he struck down quickly? Or did he suffer? Was her time with mother limited? As her thoughts wandered, she felt the one thought rise up in her that made her heart want to give out. Would Eridor and Eragon survive? Just the thought of the two of them dying at Urû'baen made her weak at the knees. She could not imagine her life with Eridor, he beloved bonded partner in life. He gave her a reason to continue onward. He gave her wings to fly about Alagaësia. The mere thought of losing Eridor to Galbatorix was enough to make her ill.

_Know this Arya, though I may speak out of bounds, I, along with Murtagh, Thorn, Saphira, and Eridor will always stand by your side. Whatever doom comes, then we will all have to weather it as best as we can and see it through to the very end._

She heard his voice in her mind promising to her a comfort that made held the demons at bay. It had been months ago when he told her that speaking with every fiber in his being. He would stand by her and see to it that she was not alone. Doom, impending doom, she felt it as if it was a weight on her shoulders. It was foolish of her to think of such nonsense but when she was left alone in the quiet of the night, such thoughts would always come upon her. The worst of her fears seemed to dance about her, taunting her with every chance it could.

She was afraid of losing Eragon.

Arya took in a heavy breath, her lips trembling slightly as she closed her eyes. She saw him there smiling warmly at her as he stood off to the side watching as she and Murtagh sparred as if it was endearing to him. It had always been a thought that she had to contend with ever since she met Eragon. He was a traitor to his Empire, he had given them the means to fight Galbatorix. He had managed to rescue four of the Eldunarí from the traitor king, and had killed Durza, his favored servant. She knew more than anything that Galbatorix was not going to let Eragon merely ride into Urû'baen. He was going to punish him and break him. She took in a shuddering gasp feeling like she was drowning even though she was safely above the water.

And he was unafraid. Just like her, Eragon had accepted death when he became a Rider. He understood the circumstances better than everyone else did. He knew just how much danger he was in after mocking Galbatorix so. Yet, he did not seem deterred by what was awaiting them. It looked as if he was almost welcoming their final battle with Galbatorix. He and Nasuada were of the same mind: fight for their freedom or let death be their apology. How could she even dare to speak out against such a mindset when she was just the same?

The pain of losing Faölin and Glenwing was incomparable to the pain she felt when she thought of losing Eragon. The thought of not waking up to him made her gasp slightly as the stinging in her eyes returned to her. Not going through the common routine of prodding him awake or seeing him daily unraveled her at the ends. This was the agony of losing her mate—someone who she loved dearly. Her mind wandered to the dreams that he had shown her in order to comfort her, to give her hope. She could clearly see the happiness in their eyes as they gazed at their daughter. Were that only to remain as dreams? Running her hands over her face, she blinked rapidly. She wanted that happiness but it was near impossible to reach.

Feeling as if she was going to suffocate in her thoughts, Arya blinked when she heard the slight rustle of leaves and branches behind her signaling the approach of someone. Turning about, she reached out for Támerlein where it rested atop her clothing as her eyes darted to the trees behind her. There was another shift before a tall figure emerged from the darkness walking forward with ease. At his waist and back she saw a glint of sapphire and immediately relaxed as Eragon walked forward into the dim light of the moon. Uncurling her fingers from Támerlein she watched as he stopped a few feet away from her not showing that he was going to come any closer. His presence had a calming effect and she felt her fear slowly withdraw, losing its grip on her mind.

"Cleansing yourself at this late of an hour?" he asked as he unstrapped Vrangr and Brisingr placing both his swords on the ground beside him as he took a seat on the ground before her, making himself comfortable. She stared at him with a raised brow questioning his motive. "I should not be surprised, you elves are always so prim about appearances. I would say you are the only race to give significant thought to the smallest of details, even your fingernails."

At the mention of her fingernails, Arya lifted her hand to examine her nails. They were clean and orderly. The cuticles were neat and trim, with no sign of tears while the nails themselves were straight and the edges smoothly beveled. The tops of her nails had a polished look to them. "It is only proper that one should take care of their appearances, dirty nails tells much about the character of a person."

"Gods forbid if one were to have dirty nails, he must be a murderer then," said Eragon, she could tell that he was only humoring her. Moving her hair to one side of her face, she leaned down lightly to wash the strands once more having forgotten to do so in her thinking earlier. Though she was shoulder deep in the lake, she could have cared less if Eragon saw her. It was not like he had not seen her before.

"Do not be mean Eragon," Arya's eyes flickered to him as he smiled slightly. Her eyes flickered to his appearance and she continued to wash her hair, "Are you not going to rest? I remember you complaining while you were with Trianna that you were tired."

"Complaining is rather harsh, I was delicately suggesting that I was rather exhausted," she snorted. Once more he showed that he had as much eloquence as a blunt axe. It was refreshing thought Arya as she stood in the water, suddenly she was rather suspicious of Eragon. She had remembered vividly one day when she was bathing in the Jiet River when Eragon had suddenly came upon her. After that, she had to spend another half an hour in the stream. "Is there something you would like to ask me?"

Deciding against speaking her thoughts, she merely shook her head. "Not in particular," she paused, "Though I still do not believe you are forgoing sleep when we have to wake early tomorrow. We will be upon the gates of Dras-Leona by noon."

He stared at her, his expression soft, "Are you worried Arya?"

Since they had taken to speaking in the ancient language when they were with each other, she found that it was hard to reply to him. Instead, she merely continued washing her hair feeling the burden of the yawë on her shoulder once more. Taking her silence for an answer, Eragon continued, "Our largest concern will be the cult there. They have a great dislike for Riders," Arya glanced at him with questioning eyes and he elaborated as if to answer her silent question, "The worship the Ra'zac and now that we have the Bane of the Ra'zac in our midst, they will not take to it lightly. I believe that Murtagh may need to be rather cautious of himself."

"Have you met them before?" asked Arya curiously.

Eragon nodded with a dark expression, "A few handful of times that I rather not recount," if anything his expression grew darker, "They and Faust had a common ground in the practice of mutilation on the human body." At the mention of Faust her fingers stilled as she studied Eragon as he gazed at the shadow of Helgrind. He was still agitated by his past and she could tell that it troubled him to know that Faust was still alive.

"Do you think he will be in Dras-Leona?" asked Arya cautiously.

Eragon's eyes snapped to her and she saw the anger in them as well as the burning hope that Faust would indeed be in Dras-Leona, "I see no other place left for him to run to. Who else would let him carry about his gruesome experiments?" She saw his fingers twitch slightly and Eragon was no longer staring at her but he was gazing up at the night sky. Though he tried hard to staunch his emotions, she felt it within her one standing out the most: disgust. He was not disgusted by Faust but by himself and Arya understood what it was that he felt. He felt dirtied and tainted after being mercilessly tortured by Faust, tortured to the brink of insanity but never over it.

Without saying another word, she merely lifted herself up and out of the lake reaching down to wrap her towel about her. Not bothering to dress, she let her feet carry her past her clothing and Támerlein and over to where Eragon sat sit staring up at the night sky seemingly not noticing that she had finished with her bath. Letting her emotions guide her, she lowered herself onto his lap straddling him as his head snapped to her in surprise his eyes wide as she felt his response to her body atop his.

"Arya…" Eragon started but she shook her head.

"What does it matter Eragon?" she said to him in a low voice as she reached up with her arms to wrap about his neck. "What Faust did to you—though unforgivable—means nothing now. Scars and injuries are accumulated through life and we must learn to live with them. I am not asking you forget about what you endured and nor should you however…even if you believe that you are not fit to be who you are because of Faust, I will not have it. I will always want you Eragon no matter how you think of yourself. Tainted or pure, I still see you."

She heard his breath hitch and she felt his uneven breathing against her neck as he leaned his head forward to rest his chin on her shoulder. She felt as if a great burden was lifted from Eragon as he relaxed in her embrace at ease. They sat there together, relishing in each other's presence. He leaned his head back to stare at her with his brown eyes darker than she'd ever seen them.

"As I see you," his whisper made her smile as a great wreath of feelings flooded her each and every one of them for the person beneath her. It felt as if she had waited a century for the opportunity to meet Eragon and she was glad, fervently glad that she was given such a chance. After a few moments, she started to pull away. Though she wanted to spend more time with him before the possible confrontation with the forces at Dras-Leona.

However, Eragon had different plans. The moment she made to move his hands had reached up to grip her hips keeping her in place. Parting her lips to scold him, an involuntary moan was ripped from her when she felt his lips latch onto the skin of her neck biting gently with his teeth. Immediately, her mind was clouded as she inclined her neck to give him better access to do as he pleased. Her breathing grew laboriously as he continued his ministrations and inch by inch, she felt her towel give way as she shifted over him until the cloth fell to the wayside leaving her completely bare before Eragon. Shivering slightly at the night air, a groan of disappointment left her when Eragon pulled away.

He reached down and tugged his tunic off and with the help of her deft fingers, tossed the article of clothing to the side. When he turned his eyes back to her, she felt pleasure course through her at his heated gaze that she often enjoyed…the hunger, the lust, it was all clearly etched on his features. Yet his eyes bespoke of the tender affections she had grown accustomed to seeing whenever he looked at her. The way he stared at her it was as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"Beautiful," he whispered his voice barely above a whisper as if afraid to disturb their silent surroundings. He stared up at her, "No one deserves you." The fact that he could say it so easily in the ancient language told her that he believed it as well. She shook her head lowering her head to his.

"You do," she whispered watching as he smiled at hearing the ease at which she spoke in the ancient language, "Only you." He stroked her cheek with a finger before cupping her cheek and at long last, closed the distance between their lips.

A few moments later she found herself lying on her back, her towel from earlier spread out underneath her. Hovering over her, Eragon bent down to kiss her pulling away when she made to deepen the kiss. His hand slowly moved from her cheek down to her chest where his fingers feathered over the skin. Through the haze of pleasure and pain at the agonizingly slow pace he was going, Arya was distinctly aware of her growing arousal.

She could feel her whole body trembling with her desire, his touching driving her to the brink of insanity. His hands feathered over her chest before coming to rest on her stomach. She waited for him to continue but instead, they returned to her chest once more. Her teeth clenched as she fought to contain the growl that was building up in her. He was playing the game, teasing her, holding her from her needs without even knowing it and her pride was keeping her from pleading with him. Bringing her arms up, she wrapped them about his neck and pulled him roughly to her concentrating merely on kissing him, trying to distract herself from taking his hand and forcing it where it needed to go. She may like to indulge Eragon but she was unwilling to concede to him in this aspect. It was a test of strength. Was his desire stronger or was hers?

A moan escaped her lips as she parted her lips over his when his fingers brushed against her center. She felt them curling at her folds teasing her. Unable to contain herself anymore, she uttered a soft, catlike growl and though she always enjoyed part taking in their teasing banters, she wanted to bite him when he smiled against her lips fully aware of what it was that he was doing to her. She had to control herself and resist the urge to flip them over. It was in her nature to be the dominant one and she knew that she could reverse their positions in a heartbeat if she wanted to. But there was just something about lying prostrate to him, watching as he gave in to his desires. She felt his finger brush against her once more before they entered her filling her. It was so sudden that she pulled away from his lips, her chest heaving. Their eyes met for the briefest moment and she held his gaze, trying her hardest not to look away as she felt him draw his fingers out before entering her once more. Her eyes followed him as he moved towards her breast.

One lick was all it took to send her into higher heights of pleasure as another moan escaped her. It was a pleasurable torture thought Arya in her haze of sensation as she reached up with a hand to grip a handful of Eragon's hair as she felt his teeth graze over her nipple as his fingers continued their steady rhythm slick with her wetness. It was difficult to say in the least for her to not give into her urge to end all of his ministrations, her arousal was so evident that even she could smell it as he sought to deliver her to the peaks of pleasure.

It was as if he was always intent of firing her nerves when they were together intimately. Everything he overburdened her sensitive senses making the pleasure akin to pain. Licking, sucking, grazing, and sliding each and every action brought her closer and closer and before long she felt herself nearing her release. The final push came when she felt his teeth close over her nipple, his free hand pinching the other roughly. Her lips fell open as a cry was building itself, crawling forth from her throat. Before it could escape her lips, she remembered that they were by the lake and that crying out loud would only serve to draw attention to where she and Eragon was. Not ready to be interrupted, she pulled Eragon's head back to meet hers, roughly engaging him an open mouth kiss where her cry was smothered in his kiss.

She felt his fingers slide out and could not stop the groan of disappointment that escaped her at the loss of the feeling. She could practically feel the wetness of her release as her thighs rubbed each other and slowly released her hold on her towel she had been clutching unconsciously when she came. She felt his fingers glide over her skin, feeling the wetness that clung to them. Her eyes darted up to Eragon as he watched her where she laid before wandering to his own arousal. When she made to move from her original position, he shook his head kissing her as he whispered against her lips, "No, stay," compelled to do as he said she nodded, her eyes sliding close as she waited for him to continue.

Her moment of respite did not last when she felt his warm breath on her center. Her eyes snapped open as she gazed down at Eragon, "Eragon—" her words died in her throat as his tongue licked the length of her folds. Another moan threatened to escape her as he tasted her. Then his tongue was gone and she fought the urge to growl before she felt two of his fingers enter her, gasping at the sudden intrusion. Instead of sliding in and out of her folds, he used his fingers to part them before his head was lowered onto her once more. He body trembled as he used a combination of his tongue and finger to pleasure her sending jolts through her body. Having already come once, it did not take long for Eragon to push her over the edge once more. Struggling not to cry his name out, she her to bit her lip as her eyes slid close a multitude of colors erupting before her as her hips bucked against his face as her release came.

She felt him withdraw from her with a soft kiss. The rustle of clothing met her ears as she laid their basking in the afterglow after already having come twice. Though she had merely laid before Eragon, her body was covered in sweat and her chest was heaving as if she had run miles.

"Arya…" she struggled to open her eyes as she felt Eragon's body move to cover hers. Blinking underneath him, she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Pulling herself up, she kissed his neck encouragingly and it did not take long before the wondrous feeling of Eragon filling her washed through her causing her to bite down on his neck as he stifled her cry against his skin. Though her wetness made it easier for him to slid in and out of her, she was growing sensitive and it was no easy task to prevent herself from reaching peak once more. But she stomped it out waiting for Eragon to come with her. Her earlier urge returned to her as he moved against her, thrusting into her with enough force and speed to make her cry out at every turn. Done with lying prone before him, she returned his thrusts with her own their hips violently meeting as they sought to give each release. When he pulled back to enter her once more, she shifted one of her legs higher as he slid into her hitting her at a different angle that was her undoing.

She felt her release rip through her for the third time that night combined with the sensation of Eragon filling her, expanding within her. Like wildfire her release ripped up her chest, spread out across her back, and flooded down toward her center, everything in her vision went white, and for three delicious seconds the world stilled about them, and then she shuttered from fingers to toes. The cry of his name was on her lips and in order to staunch it, she brutally kissed him as she felt him press into her, his arms and legs beginning to shake his body shaking from his own long awaited release. When the last of their tremors died down, she fell back against the towel covered ground her eyes half open taking in the sweaty Eragon that hovered over her.

He pulled out of her and she gasped quietly at the loss. With great effort, she reached up to brush his sweat filled locks from his eyes her eyes catching sight of the slight crimson on his lip, frowning slightly as he smiled. She had bitten him again. "You just nipped me," said Eragon in her defense as a slight green mist appeared healing the bite. It was during her release when she was desperate to muffle her cries that she had unintentionally bitten him. "You must be part dragon."

She did not have it in her to snort at his slight teasing. Instead, she let her hand fall to the side. Her entire body felt numb and warm despite the fact that she was bared to the night breeze. Making no indication of moving, her eyes traveled down his face to his neck where she could see dark, purple bruises showing that she had bitten him roughly there was well. Though they disappeared as her magic healed them she couldn't help but feel contrite as he lowered himself to the ground pulling her towards him.

Arya winced slightly once more sensitive. "If you are tired Arya, sleep I will keep watch for you," she heard his murmur in her ears. It was true that she was tired but a part of her refused to fall asleep out in the open like so even if Eragon was there. She struggled to stay awake.

"You must think of me as some beast," said Arya her voice somewhat hoarse from her cries earlier. "Constantly biting you."

"Something that even Saphira is not allowed to do," she felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled. For a moment she was about to tell him that it was not a manner that was becoming of her but lacked the energy to do so. Instead she merely laid in his arm refusing to sleep until she was no longer able to stay awake.

"Eragon…"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever considered what my true name is?" she felt him shift beside her into a more comfortable position. Remnants of her earlier thoughts were returning to her and she found that she was curious enough to ask him of such a sensitive matter. A part of her blamed how relaxed she felt for allowing her to speak so freely.

"I have…do you know what it is?"

She blinked tiredly as his arms tightened about her waist before nodding, "Are you not going to ask me?"

"When I find out my own, then I shall see to it that I do so that I may have a response for you if want to know what my true name is," he replied his voice sounding rather far off as her drowsiness started to win over.

"Eragon…" he made a sound showing that he heard her, "You need to wash my towel tomorrow."

Whatever his reply was to her, it was lost as she let her waking dreams take her safe in his embrace. She was sure that Eragon had plenty to say to her about her request or rather demand. It was the least he could do for her, not only was her towel dirtied from their coupling, she was going to have to take another bath once more.

The following afternoon, they had arrived before the gates of Dras-Leona. The Varden settled on a series of cultivated fields just southeast of the city, where the land rose up to a slight plateau, which would provide them with a modicum of protection. The men were weary from marching, but Nasuada put them to work fortifying the camp, as well as assembling the might engines of war they had brought with them all the long way from Surda. While Eragon and the others went to assist in the preparations, Arya made her way to speak to Nasuada of their battle strategies is Lord Tábor was uncooperative.

Which he no doubt will be.

As the Varden bustled about her, she entered the command tent to find Nasuada speaking to Angela and Rosalie. The moment they caught sight of her there was a mix reaction. Nasuada nodded approvingly to her for she had arrived on time as was asked of her. Rosalie merely dipped her head lightly in acknowledgement. However it was Angela's reaction that made her want to inwardly groan. _Always, _thought Arya biting back a growl. She was not prone to growling and had unknowingly growled when she was with Eragon earlier but just thinking of the taunts and jabs from Angela made her want to growl. Her uncertainty had hardened when her encounters with the witch grew after each moment she spent with her mate. Her suspicion that the witch was trying to unsettle her seemed all the more correct.

"Good afternoon Arya," Nasuada greeted her ready to start explaining their different strategies.

"Where is Eragon?" asked Angela baiting her as she stopped to stand across the witch to Nasuada's right. Arya stared at the herbalist. Her nature prevented her from snapping out an outright reply. Instead, she settled to merely answer the question.

"He is assisting in building the siege towers," said Arya as one of Nasuada's maids handed her a cup of tea. She took it and lifted it to drink as Angela eyed her.

"Well that is a waste of good effort, let Murtagh assist in the siege towers. I believe Eragon is more proficient if he were to spend his energy on the battering ram." At her words, Arya paused the cup of tea at her lips as Rosalie immediately flushed and Nasuada looked torn between amusement and mortification at the innuendo.

"I believe the battering ram is already in perfect condition," said Arya keeping her expression impassive. She was trying to make her snap decided Arya inwardly annoyed. To think that Angela had such a lack of manners to even mention her physical relationship with Eragon before his servant and Nasuada. She might as well try to dance about this bout of teasing with grace and dignity.

"I find him doing some rather odd jobs lately," commented Angela, her smirk widening considerably on her face, "For example, this morning he looked rather at ease washing a towel by the lake's shore. What could he have possibly done to need to wash his towel? I for one did not even know he had a towel in his possession. Could it be yours Arya?"

If anything Rosalie looked even more mortified than Arya did. Leave it to the herbalist to say a few words and make her beautiful union with Eragon seem rather crude and primitive. Now, Arya would even go as far as to say that Nasuada looked slightly embarrassed. She was after still young and the prospect of choosing another to spend her life with is still great.

"You seem very interested in washing laundry lately Angela," commented Arya as she took a sip of her tea, the honeyed liquid tasting bitter to her tongue as Angela waved off her comment looking as if she was going to refuse to lay the matter at rest.

"I told you once before Arya, it isn't the laundry that interests me but what one would do on said laundry," Arya nearly choked on her tea as she heard Eridor's rumbling laughter off in the distance. It seemed as if he enjoyed it when she was unsettled by the witch. Rosalie's face was as red as her hair as she glanced everywhere but Arya while Nasuada was at a loss for words. Angela was outright teasing Arya, the elven ambassador, a woman whose presence commanded respect without as much as batting an eye.

Arya drew herself up to stare at her herbalist who was unmoved by her look. In her mind, she imagined herself launching across the table and strangling the herbalist but she pushed the thought away as soon as it took root. If she lingered on it too much she may end up actually doing as she imagined. "And do tell what it is that you believe that is done on such laundry?"

It was a challenge to see if Angela would dare to continue such talk. Angela stared at her for a moment before she smiled. This woman knew no limits thought Arya as she watched the herbalist smile without refrain, "Well I imagine it involves a great amount of—"

"Angela there you are," Eragon's voice cut across the herbalist's as he pushed the flap to the command tent aside and Arya was not sure whether or not she was glad to see him or alarmed that Angela could now corner the both of them . He glanced from face to face taking in the strained look on Arya's, the redness of Rosalie's, the shock on Nasuada's, and finally the smugness on Angela's. He strode forward holding something wrapped in his hand.

"Just the person we were speaking about," said Angela with an approving nod as if he had saved her a great deal of trouble coming to her. "As I was saying I imagine that it involves a great amount of s—"

"Here I have your towel," Arya nearly dropped her teacup as Eragon held out a white towel to Angela when she caught his eyes, he merely smiled at her putting her at ease as he turned the tables on the witch. She accepted the towel graciously patting him on the shoulder.

"And you have the evidence as well. You have a good head on your shoulders I must say and—My towel?" she turned confused as she stared at Eragon who nodded.

"You asked me to wash it for you," feeling her mirth bubble at the outraged expression on Angela's face, Arya returned to drinking her tea. Revenge was rather sweet today like honey. "I thought I might as well do you a favor since you look after Rosalie so well. You were exhausted after all your hard work last night."

"Oh? What were you possibly doing to need your towel washed?" asked Arya calmly. She caught Eragon's smile and felt her own lips twitch. Honestly, the both of them were acting like children but she enjoyed poking fun at Angela when the time called for it.

Angela merely stared at Eragon speechless as he offered a few more words before taking his leave to continue assisting in building the siege towers without saying as he left, "And I do believe that your expertise is required in terms of the battering ram Angela. I heard that it is quite slippery a good spell might steady it." Unable to help herself, she sent Eridor a tremendous wave of affection knowing that it was him who had sent Eragon to her rescue from such an embarrassing moment. Her gaze wandered to Angela as she stared at the towel in her hands before setting it aside as if it was a poisonous snake.

It was deadly quiet in the tent as the four women stood together. While the others were gathering their thoughts, Arya merely thought of how she was going to repay Eragon for such a valiant rescue. She had to praise his ineloquence more often then look down on it. Clearing her throat, Nasuada pointed to the plans on the table, "Laundry and siege weapons aside, there are more pressing matters that we must attend to."

"As you say," agreed Arya glad to have the subject put behind them entirely but she had a feeling that Angela was not going to let Eragon walk away from this banter whole. She was going to have to warn him thought Arya. They continued to speak and it was late at night when the Varden finally finished their preparations and Nasuada ordered the men, dwarves, and Urgals to bed.

Rather than engaging in anything that night, she and Eragon swiftly went to sleep. Eragon had worked tirelessly on the siege towers and she did not want to waste her needed energy for tomorrow. All too soon, morning arrived, and the Varden assembled before the exposed outskirts of Dras-Leon. Arya sat astride Eridor between Murtagh and Eragon, each sitting atop their saddles on Thorn and Saphira respectively. The six of them were enough to constitute their own battalion. She waited watching as Nasuada and King Orrin rode forward away from their protective circle that consisted to the Nighthawks, Blödhgarm and his eleven companions, Eragon's servants, and King Orrin's cavalry. Saphira followed keeping her and Eragon close to the two as they approached the gates of Dras-Leona, the city staying eerily quiet.

She glanced up at the battlements which was devoid of any soldiers. _The air smells wrong, _said Eridor, and he growled ever so slightly as he watched his mate walk forward into danger. She watched as the herald rode forward to deliver their message and was positive that it was going to be denied, which it was. As they delivered the final offer to Dras-Leona, she spotted a tall, white-cloaked figure climb onto the battlements and stand between two merlons, staring over the heralds toward Saphira. Four other black-cloaked figures went to join the man, their truncated bodies showing that they were part of the priests of Helgrind.

The white-cloaked figure regarded them for a moment before stretching out his arms in welcome, "I apologize for the lack luster of a warm welcome, let me introduce myself. I am Galbatorix's head magician Faust son of none, welcome to Dras-Leona."

**Once more I like to give depth to Arya's character by giving her thoughts and emotions that we rarely get to see as a reader. Though I really love Arya in the original, I feel like it is a duty to try and do justice to her character. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and do review everyone! It's always appreciated. And please look forward to the next chapter. I'm debating whether or not I should keep the scene with Arya practically mangling her hand. (So far, I'm leaning towards keeping it because I thought that was a very epic chapter in my opinion.) But you'll just have to wait and see. And as for Angela, she's a mystery to me but I do like her and Arya together for they make a very comical duo. Anyways, see you all soon! **


	81. Chapter 77

Chapter 77

**Hello everyone. Here is another chapter for you all. Now there's something I want to say regarding my spin off of Eragon traveling back in time. I've already written the first chapter of it and I believe that I shall write more and when this story ends just post them up during a regular interval or something. Anyways, what did I do for my FOJ? Well, I went out to eat an extravagant dinner with my family and watched fireworks. Not really into setting them off myself I'm paranoid about lighting it wrong or having it exploding under my face or something. Anyways R&R everyone! **

All was silent save for the vicious pounding in his blood as he stared up at the gates of Dras-Leona at a loss for words. The man gazing down at them, cloaked in his white robes was mocking them. Mocking them in the same voice that he had once mocked Eragon with. The mixture of derision, scorn, and pleasure was what comprised Faust's voice. A voice that he would never mistaken, a voice he thought he had silenced years ago. Unable to think correctly, Eragon gazed up at the man all thoughts leaving his mind. He only felt rage. It made his blood boil and his heart pound in his chest.

And suddenly an anxiety so great seized him. Slouching where he sat, he saw to his great displeasure and anger that his hands shook slightly. He was always confident believing that if he met Faust once more, he would be able to punish the man for all of his wrongdoings. A great part of him was seething with anger and the desire to strike Faust down. He was here in Dras-Leona, he was standing before him mocking him. But in his heart, the child that was mercilessly tortured by Faust was afraid—afraid of the darkness that the man had casted over him when he was younger.

_Faust…_

"I am afraid however that I cannot comply with the terms that you gave me," Faust spoke lowering his hood as Eragon lifted his head to gaze up at him. He felt his heart pound once more as he took in the familiar face that had not aged. His silver hair was slicked back and his gray eyes were gleaming with the same twisted delirium. It struck a chord in Eragon and he felt as if someone had wrapped their hands about his neck trying to strangle him. All he could think of as he stared up at Faust was that he wanted to run him through with his swords. He took in a deep breath, he couldn't lose control here. It would only do him no good.

"Dras-Leona shall not fall to you," Faust continued, Eragon heard Thorn's growl. "Oh? You think that I haven't prepared well enough for your arrival? The king merely won't let you take this city so close to Urû'baen. As for the dragons, I have a new opponent for you," he raised both his hands to the sky. Eragon waited knowing that whatever Faust had planned that it was not going to be pleasant. As they waited, he felt a slight tremor in the ground. Faint at first followed by the steady _thuds _that grew louder and louder.

He waited on baited breath watching as a large black object appeared from over the walls of the city. It grew steady, long muscled tendrils reaching outwards before curling about the wall and what pulled itself up afterwards nearly made him retch. A large head peered out at them with glowing red eyes. There was no hair on the beast but rather horns that protruded from its temple. He watched as the monster continued to lift itself up, the beast's head the only thing showing over the walls of the city but that alone was impressive for the walls were undeniably tall. Beneath him, he felt Saphira snarl as the monster turned its head to them every breath it took loud and heavy. Its skin was as black as it hand and the sharp teeth that protruded from its mouth marked it as a definite hunter.

All about the Varden, he heard retreating feet as everyone subconsciously took a step back as the monster lifted its head and let out a deafening roar that shook the air and ground. What was that? Thought Eragon as he stared at the beast that peered out at them. Another creature made with flesh and held together by the Eldunarí? But he couldn't sense the presence of an Eldunarí from the monster. No…it felt different but similar at the same time. As the creature shifted he caught sight of a marking ingrained on its lower jaw. It was a six point star.

It was a seal.

"He is no dragon but I promise you that the moment you dare to fly over these walls he will show you how frightening the city of Dras-Leona is," said Faust and Eragon could hear the smile in his voice as the horses were unable to remain still with such a threatening aura about them. He wanted to attack the magician but he was unable to as Nasuada stared at the gates and the imposing beast that glowered at them. The things that magic could make thought Eragon as the beast took a sniff of the air, its red eyes darting to them. It let forth another roar, one that thirsted for blood, "Now, now, that is no way to treat our guest. I welcome you to try and take Dras-Leona and we shall see which trumps which your dragons or my creation?"

Eragon was beyond furious as he stared down at the table before them with his arms crossed over his chest, "That is why you should send me," he tried to keep the growl from his voice as he turned to Nasuada who was pointedly staring at the battle strategies before her. This was foolishness thought Eragon as he felt his blood pulse through his entire body pounding through his veins. He felt as if he was about to burst in his anger. They were disregarding the danger that was before them and were now content to merely waiting at Dras-Leona's gate without any thought to Faust and the monster he created.

"Eragon, you need to calm down," murmured Brom as he stood across from his trying to assess any battle strategies they could come up with.

"Calm down and have that madman come down on us?" this time he really did growl, it sounded so animalistic that everyone in the tent was momentarily shocked but his great anger. "Do you even understand what is behind those gates?"

"My Lord," Bard attempted to speak but the moment Eragon's eyes landed on him, he instantly quieted bowing his head slightly as he wilted away before his dark stare. He turned his eyes back to Brom instantly separating the fact that he was his father and an advisor to Nasuada.

"We cannot win if we simply wait around for that monster to leave, even if we found a way into Dras-Leona it will eventually come to us," said Eragon as he tried to reason with the others. He may have sounded harsh and angry but he knew what he was talking about. Faust was merely baiting them, he was waiting for them to try and scale the walls and see them struggle to live. And if they didn't, they would simply lose the motivation to fight if they let fear take them. It was similar to how he had placed a window so high up in the dungeon in which he locked Eragon. He was taunting him with a means of freedom that he was unable to reach for. This was the same concept, he wanted him to take the bait.

"Eragon, you are not of the right mind at the moment," said Nasuada turning to him and he noticed a strange look in her eyes. He stared at her. He was perfectly in the right mind. He was angry, fuming with hatred but he was able to think correctly. "Perhaps you should take a moment to clear your thoughts. It will do you no good to let your anger take the best of you."

"What are you talking about?" asked Eragon with a frown. He glanced to Arya at his side but she was studying him with a worried expression. Did something happen? No one in the tent spoke but they were all focused on him. Watching him intently as if he was going to…..implode of some sorts. Then without any reserve, Angela let out a sigh before flicking her wrist with a murmur. When she did so, a faint needle of light was born and unable to defend himself it disappeared into his right eye. Immediately he convulsed at the feeling doubling over as his hands came up to grip his eye.

"Angela!" he heard Murtagh's angry voice.

"What? Are you simply going to let him stand there and rage about attempting to take Dras-Leona as it is? After he lost absolute control before the gates?" came her sharp reply. Lose control? Her words reached him as the pain in his right eye subsided. What was she talking about? Had he lost control? But how could he? He remembered standing before them gates and returning with Nasuada to the command tent after they had retreated.

Straightening, Eragon turned his eyes to Angela. Despite her quirky behavior, she was never one to lie to him. She just talked about the truth in a roundabout manner. "What did I do Angela?" asked Eragon seriously as everyone around him gazed between him and Angela. They made no move to stop the witch from speaking but he was positive that if they could they would. He saw Murtagh's hand twitch as he stood by Brom gazing determinedly at Angela.

"Just give it a moment," she said as she stared at him, "The memory will come back to you."

"What are you—" he gasped when his right eye pulsed, burning in its socket. Nearly stumbling to the floor, he would have fell if it wasn't for Arya who reached out to steady in her firm grip. That was when he saw it, flashes of what happened to him. Flashed of what he could not remember doing earlier.

"_I welcome you to try and take Dras-Leona and we shall see which trumps which your dragons or my creation?"_

_Faust was taunting them, mocking them. And the rage that he felt earlier came back to him full force. He felt it bubble in his chest and sought to keep it at bay. Saphira was not faring any better. She was trying her hardest not to take flight for Faust. Sitting there beneath him, he felt as if he was back in the dungeon that he was locked in for so long. Faust was looking down at him and he knew that the magician was enjoying it. Enjoying that he could taunt Eragon still. _

_As he stared up at Faust he blinked when his eyes caught Eragon's over the large distance and a smirk appeared on his face then before he could do anything, there was a stinging pain in his right eye. It was so evident that it made his body lurch forward and fall from the saddle on Saphira. He heard her move as if to catch him before he hit the ground. His hand coming up to touch his right eye, he felt blood flow between his fingers. _

_And panic and rage gripped him. Was the seal back? Was his right eye unharmed? All of those thoughts passed through his mind as something in his snapped. It was violent and unforgiving, the thirst to kill Faust enraged him. It made him unable to think clearly and unable to help himself, unable to control his tormented soul and raging fire, he felt his magic burst forth stretching, reaching for Faust. And suddenly a furious roar sounded all about them, echoing in the distance as all of his pent of anger and hatred was released. _

He blinked coming to himself. Eyes focusing, Eragon found that his hands which were hanging by his side were trembling slightly. Had he lost it? Had he lost control of himself once more? He frowned reaching up to rub his face as the silence penetrated his thoughts and informed him that he was not alone. They were all watching him, waiting for him to reaction to what he saw. Where they waiting for him to lose control once more?

"Well, how do you feel?" asked Angela with curious eyes. While the others bore serious expressions, she was studying Eragon as if he was a mystery that intrigued her. He thought about her words for a moment.

"Was that the only…time I…" he trailed off not remembering what happened afterwards.

"Your magic," Arya spoke up surprising him, "You were unable to control your magic and it created a backlash of energy." He blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. His magic had created a backlash of energy? At the sight of his shocked expression she reached out and took his hand. "No one was hurt."

"Though you did end up cracking a large portion of Dras-Leona's wall," said Brom gruffly staring at Eragon with his blue eyes and he was struck with the thought that his father may think of him a monster after seeing him lose such control. They fell silent again.

"Do you remember what happened?" asked Murtagh. Eragon glanced at his half-brother before he shook his head. There was an unpleasant itch underneath his skin. It felt as if everyone was looking at him as if he was a dangerous animal. He knew that he was feared but he did not think that it would be to this extent. After a long moment, Finny quietly spoke up.

"I thought…I mean…I hope you are feeling well Lord Eragon," he said timidly. No one replied to him and he continued, "I know you tend to get grumpy a lot—" He was cut off as Rosalie slammed a hand over his mouth while Desdemona shook her head. His servants glanced at each other as if fearing for Finny's wellbeing. Eragon paid him no mind and continued to let his thoughts run rampant. If he couldn't control his own magic was he now a danger to everyone around him?

"In any case," Nasuada said pushing forward, "We cannot let you challenge Faust and his monster without any thought."

At the thought of cowering to Faust, Eragon frowned. He may have lost control but he could still fight. "I can still fight him," insisted Eragon his anger bubbling to the surface once more. "Faust is mad, Nasuada. He is merely baiting us, taunting us."

"Even then I will not let my vassal recklessly charge into battle," she dismissed his concerns with a hard expression. "I know you are angry that we are not acting but merely talking but you must understand Eragon, that we have to remain cautious. We cannot lose our forces at this time because of your emotions."

"My lord," he turned his head slightly to stare at Rosalie, she never spoke to him when he was in a foul mood unless she knew what she wanted to say, "You must remain calm, I believe that Faust is expecting you to act recklessly," she paused, "If you do, we will not hesitate to follow you but please do think of the circumstances and of the consequences."

He stared at her for a moment beating down the torrent of anger and rage that made him want to break something. After a moment, he nodded sharply and fell silent. Rather than say anything, he merely just watched as Nasuada spoke her words falling dully on his ears. It annoyed him to no end that Faust was so nearby and yet they were not doing anything. They were dallying as he did who knows what with the people of the city. Where was Tábor? Where was the lord that the citizens of Dras-Leona depended on for so long? He merely let Faust take control?

The seal on the monster flashed in Eragon's mind and he felt his blood run cold. The seal that the monster wore had only been used successfully once and that was when Faust had trapped Asura in his body. Other times, the seal had eaten away at the body that bore it. If the monster was able to bear the seal than that meant that it had the will and strength to survive. But there was one catch to using the seal. It only worked on human blood without it, the seal would be unable to take form and shape. That could only mean that—he felt his body shake as if he was going to be violently ill. He felt sweat accumulate on his body as he thought of the seal being ingrained into him, burned into his eye and how as the carving knife came down, the blood that escaped had reformed to create the seal. It was a blood seal, a seal that would grant the bearer strength in return for their energy. It had worked with Eragon for Asura's spirit was used as the basis of the seal and his blood gave it form and therefore it was a contract between Eragon and Asura in which Asura's powers were lent to him and his body was lent to the spirit.

"_If you want greatness…blood is a decent price to pay is it not Eragon?" _

"Eragon?" he glanced up at Nasuada as she spoke to him. Her eyes were drawn in concern. He blinked feeling sweat pour down his face. Did he have a cold now? Or was this remnants of his past fever? Coughing slightly he shook his head.

"Sorry," he murmured. Had he blanked out like he did when he saw Faust? Had he lost it again?

His liege lord started at him with a slight frown, "Eragon, you need to go and rest. You will get ill if you continue to let your thoughts get the better of you," when he made to argue that she needed him present, she shook her head holding up her hand, "No, we are merely trading strategies and brainstorming. I am positive that Arya shall inform you of anything if we come to a consensus on any plans that may be drawn."

Knowing that he was not needed at the moment, he nodded with a stony expression. Turning to leave, he caught sight of his servants bowing slightly to him as he left and felt Arya's hand brush his arm as he passed by her and exited the tent. Taking in a deep breath, he shook his head bringing up his hand to wipe the slight sweat from his face. Rather than make way for his tent, he turned and started for the front of the camp closest to the gates. His feet took his closer and closer as he approached Dras-Leona taking in the tall walls that hid Faust and his enormous beast that laid deep within the city. In the space between the gates and the camp, the three dragons were lounging but he knew better than that. They were merely guarding the camp in case any sudden attacks were taken.

Despite Nasuada's caution, Eragon was not worried that Faust would attack them. He was not deliberately asking for an engagement between his forces and the Varden. He was merely waiting on his orders. The war between them and Galbatorix, the fate of Alagaësia was but mundane affairs to him. In essence Faust was more devoted to his work than an elf to their practice. He could care less if people were dying left and right as long as he was allowed to continue his experiments. He was a man without morals but he had principles—principles that he rigidly abided to despite the cruelty of their nature. Crushing the grass underneath his boots, he stopped near Saphira as she laid by Eridor and was constantly whipping Thorn in the face with her tail as if to tease him. The ruby red dragon for the most part let her have her fun oftentimes snapping at her only to have Eridor snap at him.

"Quit bothering Thorn," said Eragon as he stopped by her reached down to stroke her snout. She gazed up at him lazily with what appeared to be a toothy grin.

_Thorn is rather fun to bother, always so quiet and reserved, _as if to test her statement she hit Thorn again with her tail only to have the red dragon ignore her seeing as she barely put any force in the hit. But she did as he said keeping her tail to herself. _How are you feeling? _

"Tired and angry," said Eragon truthfully. He did not want to speak in his mind with Saphira at the moment for he was afraid the moment he stopped talking, he would be plagued by his thoughts. His eyes shifted to the large crack that started from the base of one side of the walls that girdled Dras-Leona and traveled upwards, branching out by at least twenty-five feet. Had he done that? How come he couldn't remember?

_You were angry and your magic reacted to your anger, _said Saphira comfortingly as she wrapped her tail about his legs in comfort. It was the closest thing to a comforting embrace he could get from her but he was not going to deny it. He sighed and shook his head unsure of what to do with himself.

"They must think I'm a monster," muttered Eragon. Saphira lifted her head to nudge him her tail tightening around his legs.

_If you keep thinking like that I won't hesitate to throw you on your face, _she warned him. Taking her word for it he nodded before he reached out to hug her around the neck.

"Are you fine after seeing him Saphira? The man who tortured you?" asked Eragon softly. He felt her pain through their bond and lying beside Saphira, Eridor let a growl rip from his throat at the mention of Faust hurting the sapphire dragon. Just the thought of Saphira having to come face to face with Faust made him angry for multiple reasons. He was unable to protect his bonded partner from pain when she was but a hatchling. He had never felt so ashamed.

_We were young Eragon, _said Saphira softly as she closed her eyes as he hugged her, _young and powerless against our captors. Let the past stay the past. I am happy here with you now there is no need to worry over what once was. _

"It's just difficult, but I will try my hardest," promised Eragon as he retracted his arms from Saphira. She let out a huff of breath which was no doubt her sign of approval at his words. Licking him on the face, she opened her eyes showing her the sparkling sapphire that was more beautiful than her scales. Unwrapping her tail from him, he smiled when she accidentally whacked Eridor in the face and the emerald dragon in return bit her tail but not meanly. At the sight of Eridor doing so, Eragon was reminded of his rider that also seemed to have a knack of biting him to show her affections.

"Arya bites like you," commented Eragon to Eridor. The green dragon did not release Saphira's tail but Eragon could tell that he was laughing due to the tremors in his chest. "She drew blood twice."

_And whose fault is that? _Asked Saphira with great mirth. _Ah, to lose one self in their passion. How odd it is for Arya to lose control and simply bite you. She may be part dragon. _

"I told her the same thing," said Eragon with a slight smile as the dragons began to chuckle, Thorn joining in as he heard the conversation. After a moment, Eragon bid them farewell giving Saphira a kiss on her snout and stroking Eridor's and Thorn's snout. He turned and left. However, he still refused to return to his tent. Instead, he weaved about the many tents of the Varden and came upon the large tent that belonged to his mother. Pushing the flap aside, he ducked inside to find his mother sitting on her cot speaking to Ella, who she cradled in her arms. She glanced up as he entered.

"Eragon, are you not meeting with Nasuada?" she asked in surprise. He shook his head moving to sit on the stool in her tent.

"I was dismissed," said Eragon. His mother frowned slightly. He took this moment to stare at her as she sat before him wearing a dress that Rosalie had made for her. Her brown hair was tied back in a casual way and she looked more vibrant than he could remember her. His eyes darted to Ella smiling slightly as he caught sight of blue eyes and her tuft of brown hair.

"Why? Did something happen? Are you not feeling well?" she shifted Ella in her arms as she spoke. For a baby, Ella did not cry much which once more he was positive was due to the dragons' gift. She was a beautiful baby thought Eragon with slight pride as he stared at his baby sister.

"I was told to rest," Eragon said answering his mother's question. He paused slightly before taking in a deep breath, "I lost control again mother. My mind just blanked out and the next thing I knew it I was standing in Nasuada's command tent." He sighed running his hand through his hair. "I thought I was able to move on."

"Oh Eragon," his mother stood and gently placed Ella in her crib promising that she was going to come back for her. Instead, she made her way over to him. Immediately he grabbed a stool for her to sit on never one to make his mother lift a finger. She gave him an exasperated look but sat down on the offered stool before reaching out to take his face in her slim hands. "You always worry too much. Worrying makes people older."

"If that is so, I would be on my death bed by now," muttered Eragon as his mother frown and he knew that she was going to scold him from the look in her eyes. After a moment, she let it pass seeing as everyone was well acquainted with his outright speech.

"Now, what is it that you cannot move on from?" she asked.

He stared at her unsure of how to breach the subject for he knew that it would only do to upset his mother. She waited patiently for him to speak. Trying to cast for the words, he said softly, "Faust is in Dras-Leona mother. He's still alive."

Her reaction to his words erased all signs of her earlier happiness with Ella. Her brows furrowed, her lips curling downwards, and an outrage expression appeared. Eragon was struck by how dangerous she looked despite how motherly she appeared but a few moments earlier. His mother had met Faust a few times when she was allowed to visit him in the dungeons of the castle at Urû'baen. It was because of Faust that she had cried endlessly at the sight of her mangled son brutally tortured and experimented on. She had wanted to strike out at Faust but if she did so, Galbatorix would had only bring his wrath down on Eragon to punish her. She was helpless to watch as Eragon was dragged from the dungeons each time she came to visit him.

"Faust is still alive?" whispered his mother, her voice deadly calm. Eragon nodded watching as a flame erupted in his mother's eyes and he knew then why she was such a treasure in Morzan's eyes as his Black Hand. She was a deadly warrior despite her motherly appearance. He was often reminded of the fact that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. "He is in Dras-Leona?"

He nodded.

Her lips thinned, "Why are we still sitting here?" she asked him quietly.

"He made another experiment," said Eragon telling her about the large beast that could peer over the walls of Dras-Leona. Her expression simply continued to worsen as she listened to him, "Nasuada does not want to risk attacking. She believes that there may be another way to breach Dras-Leona so that we may have the upper hand like we did at Belatona."

"If there is a way into Dras-Leona, your father will find it," after a moment, she smiled faintly, "He has a way of sneaking into past guards and walls with ease. Surprising ease to be honest I wonder if he was not born a thief sometimes."

"Mother…" he did not want to hear about the story of how she met his father at the moment. She paused and her expression softened as leaned forward to brush her lips against his forehead and he felt his heart constrict at the warmth that enveloped him. His mother pulled back.

"Are you afraid Eragon?" she asked quietly.

"I just…I wished I had killed him earlier," said Eragon. She nodded her brown eyes warm and to his surprise she looked remorseful, "Mother?"

"Is that the reason why you lost control of yourself? Because you saw Faust?" he nodded, "Eragon, you must keep calm. I know you want to give into your rage but if you do, it will only hinder you in battle. Do not let Faust taunt you so." And he knew she was referring to the time that she had to control herself when Faust taunted her about her lack of power when she was so attached to Eragon when he was a child.

"I know," he murmured glancing down at the ground. His mother released his face and smiled sadly at him.

"If I could fight I would like to challenge Faust for all of those times he…treated you," she bit her lips and glanced away, "But my age will not allow me to fight by your side Eragon. If just for a moment, I wish I could protect you unlike when you were a child."

"Mother," he paused unsure of what to say to her, he stared at Ella and shook his head reaching out to grip both of her hands in his. "Your hands should not be bloodied for Ella's sake," he paused feeling his eyes sting. He felt the words on his lips and knew that if he did not tell her then that it would be difficult for him to say so later on. He had distanced himself from his mother and he knew that it had pained her now, he wanted to tell her. "I never blamed you mother. Not once…you came for me. That's all that matters."

His mother's smile was blinding and watery. Faust may have taken his childhood from him but not his mother. And he would drag that man on his feet before her and have him grovel before her feet before he killed him. Yes, that was his repayment to his mother and to himself. He was not going to let Faust escape him this time.

**There's not much I want to say here except see you next time and please await for my chapters and my spin off! See you soon!**


	82. Chapter 78

Chapter 78

**Well here is the next chapter everyone and I'm afraid to say that I won't be able to update for the next 2-3 days this week. A project has come up that requires all of my attention. So I'll like to leave you all with this chapter for now. Anyways, there's not much to say besides R&R peoples. **

He hated waiting.

He never considered himself an impatient person in most regards but he found himself anxiously waiting for them to strike against Dras-Leona. As was agreed, the Varden would wait and consider any strategy that would benefit them in their strike against the city. They had come far, argued Nasuada, and to lose their footing now would only cause irreversible harm to their forces. Though he was aggravated at the wait, he begrudgingly agreed with her. However much he wanted to face Faust on the battlefield, there was matters of greater importance than his desire for revenge.

Grumbling to himself as he stood in the field that laid bare between the Varden's camp and the city gates, Eragon turned. He knew that Faust was not going to strike at them first but it still made him restless to be so close to danger and blatantly ignore it. "How are the magicians from Du Vrangr Gata progressing?" asked Eragon to Rosalie as she stood by him.

Lately, she had taken to accompanying where he went and he knew it was because she was worried for his wellbeing. Of all his servants, Rosalie knew him well enough and she knew that when he was agitated, it did not take much to anger him. No doubt her presence was more of a ward for the others about him than he himself. Nevertheless, her presence was greatly appreciated for Arya was busy constantly with her duties. She often left early morn to attend various conferences or spent her time trying to search for a way into Dras-Leona or how to effectively fight Faust.

He had attended a meeting once that involved her, Murtagh and his guards, the Du Vrangr Gata, and Bard and it did not bode well for his temperament for he found his anger constantly peaking at how they underestimated Faust in comparison to the tremendous creature that he created. The creature was not the biggest worry to be dealt with. Faust was the bigger problem.

"Desdemona is with them my lord," said Rosalie with reassuring tone. "She is working with them alongside Jeod who has been searching through various texts to see if there has been any means into Dras-Leona that was overlooked in the centuries past."

Eragon snorted, "Like the passage that led into the castle of Urû'baen that the elves built." Rosalie nodded. After a moment, he began to walk with her following him staying diligently by his side. "If one passage does exist, I hardly doubt it will be of any use to us. The only advantage is that it will allow us to sneak into the city. However, there is Faust and the beast to contend with…Either way, it would have been better to let me strike at the creature rather delaying the inevitable."

Rosalie did not say anything in return but merely lowered her eyes to the ground as she followed him. They walked in silence for a moment in without any need to hurry. After a while, Eragon spoke up, "Will you follow Angela once more after all of this is done and over with Rosalie?"

Her surprise and the slight hurt on her face startled him. In all honesty, he believed that his servants would merely continue on with life when the war was done, if they survived. He had not thought that they would continue to follow him. For the first time since he had known Rosalie, she was staring at him with a cold gaze, offended with his question. "Pray tell, my lord why I would find the need to accompany Angela once more?"

Eragon felt himself pause. For some reason, he knew that his answer was going to offend Rosalie but that did not make him refrain from answering her. Instead he simply spoke his mind, knowing that his honesty may be the end for him. "I had not thought that you would wish to follow me," said Eragon simply, "You have your own life waiting for you."

"My life is with you my lord," said Rosalie in such a blazing voice that he turned to stare at her. Her expression was set and her forest green eyes were gleaming brightly as if to challenge his words. He fell silent for a moment trying to contemplate what it was that he wanted to say to her. The two of them walked and Eragon was struck at how long it had been since he and Rosalie had been together. Ever since he had joined the Varden he rarely saw his servants anymore for they were all busy with their own duties and he was busy with his. They had been a constant presence in his life for the past four—five—years now and that had changed since he had met Arya. Did they resent her he wondered, his eyes darting back to Rosalie as she quietly followed him.

After a moment, the two of them emerged at the rear end of the Varden camp which was the sparring field. Already present were several warriors but the two in the center caught his eye. Arya and Murtagh were sparring or rather; it appeared to be a one sided battle in which Arya was the dominant opponent. On the other side of the field laid Thorn and beside him were the twelve elves assigned to guard Murtagh. He could tell that Murtagh was uncomfortable having them gathered along the edge of the field but they did serve one useful purpose aside from protecting Thorn and Murtagh: keeping the other warriors on the field from wandering over to gawk at two Riders going at it hammer and tongs. Not that Blödhgarm's spellcasters did anything specific to discourage onlookers, but their very presence was intimidating enough to ward off causal spectators.

Eragon and Rosalie, however, had no qualms about being in their presence or under their watchful stare as they stood opposite them observing Murtagh and Arya sparring. Emerald and ruby met and disengaged only to meet once more in a flurry of strikes. Staring at them for a long moment, he spoke to Rosalie as she stood by his right hand side still quiet despite her usual bright character.

"Rosalie," she did not turn to face him, "I am grateful for what you have done for me and my family. You have served me well since you came to me asking to lend your services. You have done much more than I could ever ask of a person and I have been unable to repay you."

"You do not need to repay me my lord," said Rosalie in a low voice, he felt her shift beside him but kept his eyes focused on Murtagh and Arya as they sparred. He watched as Arya turned using swift footwork as she twisted her arms about Murtagh's chest Támerlein coming up to meet his neck. That bout as the last ended with Arya as the victor. "What I did, I did of my own free will."

"I know," Eragon sighed unsure of how to say it to Rosalie. He did not want her to constantly put her life on hold to follow him about. He wanted her to find her freedom despite the life that she was cursed with. He wanted her to understand just as he did that she could change her fate. He remembered the first time she stepped foot in his castle to serve him. Rosalie had been very independent and rarely if ever grew attached to any object or thing. But here they were standing side by side because of his desire to be free of the Empire and her desire to follow him. He did not want her waiting on him when she could have her own life.

"Rosalie," Eragon turned to her with a serious expression, his voice holding a note of determination that made her turn her face upwards and stare at him. He could see her own determined expression forming. She had never been one to talk back to him for she and Desdemona had spent most of their time doting over him over the years. It was surprising.

She waited for him to speak.

"I only wish that you find happiness," said Eragon eventually. Normally, he would feel rather awkward saying something so personal to anyone, particularly if that person was a woman. However, being constantly surrounded by women whether dragon, elf, or human he had learned better. Though it still felt rather awkward the moment he said it. "You are a rare person to find Rosalie. Even if you did not wish for this life, I am glad that I had the opportunity to meet you. However, I feel that by following me, you will lose what life has to offer."

"It is not as if I haven't received happiness during my time with you Lord Eragon," said Rosalie with a soft smile. He blinked unsure of what to say back. Rosalie may be an equal to an elf in beauty, strength, and knowledge but she certainly was not Arya. His words came to him naturally when speaking to his mate but it was a different matter when he was facing his servant. Not certain how to continue, he frowned slightly as Rosalie continued, "The five years I have spent serving you my lord…I will forever cherish and I hope to continue serving you."

Despite the fact that he was trying to grant her the freedom to do what she wanted, it seemed as Rosalie was intent on following him even at the cost of her own life. His frown deepened as he stared at her, "Do you not want to marry Rosalie? To have a family? To pursue your own dreams?"

Her green eyes darted away from his to the side. He followed her gaze to find that she was staring the Blödhgarm and his spellcasters. He knew instantly what it was that was going on through her mind. Rosalie had lived for a century and had not age in that span of time. She could not find a husband amongst humans. The only way she could find happiness was by either coming across another Rider or an elf. He blinked as his eyes found Blödhgarm the wolf-elf paying attention to the sparring between Murtagh and Arya. Hadn't Arya told him that Blödhgarm seemed intently interested in Rosalie?

"Perhaps," said Rosalie her lips twitching slightly as if she was fighting a slight smile. Just them Blödhgarm glanced up his eyes meeting Rosalie's and Eragon watched as a slight gleam appeared in his amber eyes before Rosalie turned away from him. "However, I would like to continue to follow you Lord Eragon if you allow it."

Eragon sighed turning away from her before crossing his arms over his chest after a long moment he gave her the same response that he always gave her whenever she asked something of him, "Do what you want."

The determined look on her face faded and was replaced with a beaming expression as she continued to stand by him watching as Arya once more defeat Murtagh, who was starting to become frustrated. It was entertaining to watch thought Eragon as he followed the two of them as they used a great portion of the sparring field. It seemed as if Murtagh was trying his hardest against Arya but failed at every turn. She continued to defeat him such regularity that it was no doubt a great blow to his pride.

"Should you not intervene my lord?" asked Rosalie after watching Arya slid under Zar'roc, the hilt of Támerlein coming up to knock the ruby sword from Murtagh's hand before she kicked his feet from under him sending him crashing into the ground a great storm of dust rising from the impact.

Eragon shook his head with a smile, "Let her teach Murtagh."

"My I suggest pummel as a better word choice my lord?" asked Rosalie with a slight smile. He merely inclined his head as he turned back to the sparring between Murtagh and Arya. His half-brother had moved to his feet and practically stomped over to a spot at least ten yards away from Arya. He called to her in what appeared a rather biting tone to which made Arya's eyes narrow.

Then they rushed at each other, both shouting war cries, and the field echoed with the sounds of their furious clash. Match after match they fought, until they were tired, sweaty, and coated with dust, and Murtagh was striped with many welts that looked rather painful for they were an angry red and swollen. She was intent on beating Murtagh black-and-blue thought Eragon amused as they still continued to dash themselves against one another with a grim-face-determination that had hitherto been absent from their duels. Neither of them asked to end their brutal, bruising contest, and neither of them offered to.

He knew he should be assisting with several tasks for the Varden or rather spending his time doing something productive but it was hard to move his eyes away from the beauty that was Arya as she fought. There was a freeness to her in battle, one that he knew existed but others rarely had the chance to observe. She was a ferocious beauty thought Eragon slightly dazed as he watched her whirl about, her black hair flying about her as she landed another hit on Murtagh who let out a cry as he stumbled backwards.

_Fierce, determined, and deadly. _

That was Arya.

The longer Murtagh fought with Arya, the more frustrated he became. Eragon could tell from his fighting style that he was growing desperate to land a victory against her seeing as he was beaten so quick and easily. Out of all the matches that Eragon had observed, Murtagh had won two of the matches—barely, frantically, with desperate ploys that succeeded more by luck than skill—but except for those isolated victories, Arya continued to beat him with depressing case.

He was angry and frustrated thought Eragon as he watched the desperation sign clear on his face, he lifted Zar'roc high above his head as Arya danced back from her last blow looking ready to throw that sword which gave Eragon pause. Though they may have reinforced their swords with spells to prevent from actual harm, throwing Zar'roc could hurt Arya if the blade hit its target with deadly precision.

_Enough, _he heard Glaedr's thoughts projected over them. Murtagh's arm gave pause as he did not let Zar'roc fly from his hands. Curious as to what the golden dragon could want, Eragon waited as the dragon's powerful mind withdrew from him to speak to Murtagh and the Arya no doubt instructing them on their fighting.

"Was that your teacher from Ellesmeŕa?" asked Rosalie with curiosity for she too felt the presence of Glaedr. Eragon turned to her and inclined his head slightly not giving her an outright answer but she understood his intent and nodded with an impressed expression.

"He must have tired of watching Murtagh's constant defeat," said Eragon with a slight smiled as his eyes focused on Murtagh and Arya, the two of them standing stock still in the middle of the sparring field, unmoving and not speaking. In truth, they were speaking to Glaedr. After a long moment, Eragon watched as Murtagh and Arya broke away from each other moving twenty paces in the opposite direction each before turning to face each other.

"Will they not fight?" Rosalie murmured in a low voice as neither of them made a move to continue their constant matches. Eragon merely shook his head.

"Murtagh is learning how to see his opponent," said Eragon as he turned to Rosalie. It was something that he had taught Rosalie and the others when they had served him. Though she was skilled with a bow and arrow and fighting, she rarely had to. And everything that Rosalie did, she always let her emotions get the better of her rather than remain calm and collected and without the need for anger. It took her a handful of defeats before she realized that. Desdemona was a quicker learner seeing as she was always calm and rarely if ever was she moved, her character was even colder than an elf's. Bard had no trouble learning how to fight with his eyes as well as his sword. He was a strategic advisor in Galbatorix's army before he served Eragon and thus knew how to interpret what he saw with ease. The hardest in learning was Finny since he was still young and rash. It took Eragon two years to beat it into the youth's head that he should never charge recklessly into battle without analyzing his background and his opponent. In the end though, the training paid off for they were fine warriors, able to lead and hold their own in the thicket of battle.

His eyes darted to Murtagh as he waited to see if his half-brother could let go of his emotions and move on instinct, letting his sense guide him. _Can you see Arya, Murtagh? Truly see her for who and what she is? _

It took Eragon a greater part of the first few months with the Varden to see Arya, truly see her. Many saw her as the elven ambassador, Eridor's Rider, the princess of Du Weldenvarden, a Shadeslayer, or an elf. But Eragon saw Arya, just Arya. He had not given much thought to her titles when he first met her, it had meant little to him. And though she was beautiful, he did not particularly feel the need to linger over her appearance at first. However, he did now that he was given the permission to do so freely as her mate. He saw her character, the essence that made Arya—her fears, like, dislikes, her fear, her hopes and desires—he understood her, he saw _her._

One of the reasons why he grew to understand Arya so well in such a short span of time was due to their common ground and their curiosity in each other. She wanted to unravel the mystery behind his person as much as he wanted to unravel the mystery behind her. They did so, going on an emotional and event filled journey together that involved a constant circle in which they saved each other. Then there was their soul bond and them being mates. He could say with certainty and in the ancient if needed of him that he understood Arya and everything about her. It was something he prided himself in. Just then he thought about her question that night they spent together by the shore of Leona Lake.

She had asked if he wanted to know her true name.

Just then Murtagh dropped to one knee supporting himself with both hands on the ground after having Arya easily parry a blow from Zar'roc due to his lack of timing. It created an opening and she was able to rap him on his head sending him to the ground. He had yet to see her thought Eragon with a slight frown his mind returning to their conversation after he had shown her how much he cherished her.

Did he want to know her true name?

He did, he would be lying to say that he didn't. It would be the epitome of trust and oneness if she entrusted him with her true name. Very rarely did others tell each other their true name for it gave the person complete control over the other person. If he knew his true name, he would have no qualms over telling Arya. He trusted her fully and completely and he had an inkling the same thing went for her. When he found his true name, he would tell her without refrain. He was willing to give her everything of him. His very essence.

"They seem intent on battering each other," Rosalie observed as Murtagh and Arya stood once more to charge at one another. Eragon nodded. No doubt Murtagh's pride is refusing to back down and now with Glaedr actively watching them, Arya was refusing to admit defeat as well. They were both prideful thought Eragon with a slight chuckle. "Is there something particularly amusing my lord?"

"I am merely thinking of how pride ends in more injuries than one would think," answered Eragon amused as he watched Arya move past another opening and struck Murtagh in the ribs with the pommel of Támerlein causing him to bite back a swear.

"You find entertainment in the oddest of ways my lord," murmured Rosalie her eyes sparkling. He glanced at her merely waving her comment away with a slight movement of his hand.

"You will see it eventually," said Eragon as Murtagh shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. The next match was different and though Eragon was proud that Murtagh was finally able to use his eyes, he did not like seeing Arya cry out in pain as Zar'roc made contact with her ribs causing her to fall back several steps. Having used her confidence against her, Murtagh had drew her towards the sun and momentarily blinded her. The moment he used the opening and struck Arya, Eragon almost leapt forward and thrown him on his back but Rosalie's hand on his shoulder restrained him from doing so.

"I believe that would only do to anger Arya my lord," said Rosalie albeit somewhat stiffly. He glanced at her and nodded and she withdrew her hand. Rosalie was still having trouble accepting Arya it seemed. Desdemona was trying her best to work on her attitude but she too was having a hard time accepting that he and Arya were mates. For some reason, he did not understand why there always seemed to be a blanket of tension in the air when the three of them were together. His eyes returned to the match to watch Murtagh and Arya cautiously circling each other. As she moved, he saw a mist of sapphire encircle her ribs no doubt healing the bruise from Murtagh's strike earlier. Though it was slightly unfair seeing as Murtagh was still covered in several welts that Arya had dealt him earlier.

The next matches, Murtagh was able to land more and more hits on Arya the two of them becoming equals on the sparring field. They refused to yield to each other. One would land a hit, follow, and then they would be charging each other once more. They were both fierce and determined to acknowledge their defeat. The rate they were going they were going to end up horribly battered. Though Eragon wanted to intervene and tell them to rest there was something about watching the two of them shift towards each other in a crude imitation of their earlier grace. Both were breathing profusely, sweat dripping from their face, their swords appearing heavy in their hands but they refused to admit defeat and kept sparring.

He watched as they charged each other, Arya lunging at Murtagh, shouting. They engaged in their deadly dance and once more fought to a standstill. Fatigue made them clumsy, yet he watched as they moved together with a rough harmony that prevented either from gaining victory. Eventually, their match ended up with them standing face to face, their swords locked at the hilts, pushing at each other with what little remained of their strength. They fought twice more but each resulted in a draw. By the end of the last duel, they were both so tired that they dropped to the ground, heaving for air.

Watching them, Eragon shook his head with a smile as he walked forward seeing as it was safe to do so. Rosalie followed him as he made his way to where Murtagh and Arya laid, trying to recover from their sparring. "Well, I would say that it has been some time since I was entertained," said Eragon as he stopped to stand over them. He glanced at Arya a teasing lilt entering his voice, "You look beautiful Arya." She glanced up at him, heavy breaths heaving through her pinched nostrils. Her cheeks were unusually pale, save for a crimson blotch that appeared high on each side. She looked like she wanted to say something to his teasing but was unable to form the words on her lips.

Slightly alarmed at how fatigued she was, Eragon turned to Rosalie, "Heal Murtagh Rosalie," he ordered. She nodded and took a few steps to stand by Murtagh's side as he laid side by side to Arya, heavily breathing like her if not worst. Seeing his state, Rosalie crouched and began to heal his battered body while Eragon crouched by Arya's side and reached out to brush a sweaty lock of hair from her face. She was dirtied and covered in sweat and dust. She was going to need another bath thought Eragon smiling slightly.

"Did you have fun beating each other black-and-blue?" asked Eragon as he caressed her cheek. Her skin was burning from the hours she spent sparring with Murtagh, pushing herself to the limit. Frowning slightly, he opened his mind enveloping hers. Despite her wariness, her barriers were still cement strong and she granted him entrance. The moment his mind fully enveloped hers, Eragon began to channel his energy into her seeing how weak she felt to him.

Arya's eyes closed as the fountain of cool energy washed over her. His hand still on her face, he slid it to rest on her neck, messaging the tense muscle there like she had once taught him. Her reaction made him smile for her sighed and leaned into his hand. Within a minute, her breathing had returned to normal and her complexion was returning but there were still remnants of exertion on her countenance for the crimson blotches were now a soft pink. He moved his hand to the other side of her neck and continued to massage her tense muscle. After a moment, she opened her eyes to gaze up at him with a faint smile.

"I would not say that we beat each other black-and-blue," she said her voice hoarse from the yelling in their matches. "But I would not deny that I did not enjoy the challenge."

"Challenge?" Eragon glanced at Murtagh, who was now healed of his acquired injuries from Arya. Well, he would not agree with that word at first but it seemed as if Murtagh did prove a challenge to her as he slowly began to learn how the fight with his eyes and mind rather than just his arms. "In a way," after a moment Eragon stared at her in concern, "Are you still in pain Arya?"

He felt her mind and thoughts, feeling the relaxation that was coursing through her and his energy warming her and rejuvenating her. Not once did he feel a slight tinge of pain in her thoughts. After a moment she shook her head, "No, but I cannot say the same for my pride."

He let out a laugh, it was a chuckle at first and unable to help himself it grew. The sight of Murtagh and Arya chasing each other on the sparring field refusing to yield to each other due to their pride made the situation humorous in his opinion. To think that Arya refused to be outdone by Murtagh due to her near century of practice and Murtagh was determined not face more defeats because of the regularity at how Arya defeated him—all of this because of their pride. When he calmed down, Eragon was gazing into Arya's gleaming eyes as he smiled, "Your pride will heal soon enough."

Her own smile was rewarding. After a moment, with his help seeing as her body was still sore she got to her feet dusting off her clothing. After a few moments Murtagh too managed to stand on his feet. Eragon, with one hand resting on Arya's shoulder turned to his half-brother. He raised a brow, "Would you like to spar with me Murtagh?" He saw Arya's lips quirk as she turned her head to hide her growing smile while Murtagh blanched at the challenge.

"Perhaps another day my lord," said Rosalie taking pity at the Rider's demeanor. Eragon merely nodded as he caught Arya's emerald eyes and smiled. First they made their way to the weapon master, Fedric. Inside the tent, Eragon waited watching as the man grumbled as he accepted the dented equipment from Murtagh and Arya. While Murtagh had the decency to look chagrined about the damage of his shield, Arya was impassive. Instead he went through his racks of weapons and handed them brand new shields to use.

"Barely have enough shields to fit every soldier as it is," grumbled Fedric as he went to fit a shield for Murtagh. "And here the two of you are using them without thought." Eragon went to fit Arya for a shield that would be easy for her to carry. Rather than measuring her arm, he found the shield that was fit for her knowing her body as well as his own.

"Right," Fedric stared at both of them with a slight glare, "Make sure the two of you do better to take care of your equipment." They nodded and left the tent moving to Murtagh's tent to then train with their minds. In this, Arya and Eragon were equal while Murtagh was no match for them. Arya, who had a century to barricade her mind from others, and Eragon, who was taught by Galbatorix himself, could easily overcome Murtagh. When they were facing each other however, it was like how she and Murtagh sparred neither of them gaining the advantage over the other. However when he was paired with Saphira and she was paired with Eragon, he triumphed as victor seeing as Eridor was not as apt at protecting his thoughts as Saphira was. After plenty of training, when they were deemed exhausted enough did they return to their tent.

"Are you still sore?" asked Eragon as she took a seat on their shared cot, placing Támerlein and her shield to the side. She stared at him as if knowing the double meaning to his words before shaking her head.

"Where would you come to such a conclusion?"

He snorted as he unstrapped Brisingr and Vrangr moving to stand before her. Her gaze was curious as Eragon motioned for her to lie flat on her stomach on the cot. Trusting in him she did so after she had removed her boots. Gathering his resolve, he reached forward and undid the ties of her leather top as she turned her head to gaze up at him her hand coming up to grip his wrist. "Eragon, I am still sore from the sparring," she said quietly looking rather regretful to deny him. He raised a brow.

"No it is not that," he said softly in the ancient language as her hand slowly released his wrist. He continued to untie the leather and when it came undone, she lifted her torso from the cot to let him slide the clothing out from under her and fold it up neatly on the table. He turned back to her and shifted her dark hair to the side to reveal her smooth back and unable to help himself he bent down and let his lips glide over her yawë on her left shoulder.

She shivered and said in a warning voice, "Eragon behave."

Chuckling softly against her skin, he drew up and began to move his hands about her back messaging her tense muscles from her constant sparring. A quiet moan was her response to his actions as she let him ease her body like she often did for him. It took him a few times when he was with Arya to recognize the sensitive spots on her body and the best way to relax her like he was doing now.

"Was it really hard to admit defeat to Murtagh?" asked Eragon curiously as his hands glided to her sides careful to keep away from her breasts which were pressed into the cot. She blinked lazily like a cat and nodded.

"If you have lived and fought for a century Eragon…it will make it harder for you to bow to defeat," she murmured, her voice rather throaty as he rubbed soothing circles beneath her shoulder blades. He chuckled.

"How do you feel whenever I defeat you in our sparring?" Eragon felt her tense slightly underneath his hands but then she relaxed.

"Irritated," at her answer he chuckled. His fingers continued to ease her back and her arms. She sighed when he undid a particular painful knot at the base of her neck. After a moment, he glanced at her lower body which was clad in her leather leggings. He knew her legs hurt from the constant running and jumping but he was tentative in removing the rest of her clothing. As if knowing his dilemma she nodded into her pillow. Doing away with her leggings, her folded it with the rest of her clothing and in an effort of self control folded the sheets over her round and firm bottom. At this she let out a trilling laugh.

"What?" asked Eragon confused unsure of why she was laughing. Had he done something particularly funny. Arya tilted her head towards him, a rather predatory smirk on her face that looked rather out of place but still breathtakingly beautiful.

"So cautious of my backside," she teased him, "Of all times."

"Well," he reached down wrapping his fingers about her thigh causing her to gasp as he gently kneaded the skin. "It is a distraction." As he continued to message her body, he felt her shift underneath his skilled hands as she moaned softly every one and a while. When he was done, it appeared as if she was struggling to stay awake. Her stubbornness was endearing.

"Sleep Arya," he murmured as he fixed the sheets over her body, covering her as she rolled about her hair splaying out beside her as she did so. Her emerald eyes were soft as they be held him and she stretched out a hand towards him. Answering her, he leaned into her reach letting her wrap her hand about his neck and pull him towards her for a sweet kiss before she retracted her arm and slept. That was the least he could do for her.

While she slept, he pulled out Domia abr Wyrda to read not having time to immerse himself in the text as of late. As he sat on the stool reading, his eyes would drift over to Arya and he found himself distracted. Oftentimes he had to shake his head to return to the text having only read up to chapter twenty-eight so far. The book was voluminous and if he did not focus he would never reach the end. With great difficulty Eragon paved on, the sound of Arya's steady breathing enough to calm him and his thoughts of Dras-Leone, Faust, and the upcoming battle.

**Hahaha...now you all have to wait for the next chapter which will be...the Dras-Leona chapter! Maybe even a possible confrontation with Faust. I shall leave you all with that thought since I don't think there's anything for me to clear up. I shall see you all soon! **


	83. Chapter 79

Chapter 79

**Hello everyone! It has been a week and some days but I haven't forgotten about this story. So put your worries at ease everyone! Anyways, the project was delayed and such but it's good and done now. I hope I didn't keep everyone waiting. Now this chapter is another one of those filler chapters and I had to borrow some things from the chapter "Decisions" (259-267) from Inheritance written by Paolini. There is the standard disclaimer. Anyways I shall be diligently working on the next chapter soon people. It's going to get pretty graphic in terms of blood and gore. Anyways everyone do enjoy the chapter! R&R! **

"Eragon…" the man before her did not answer but rather continued to stare intently at the game of runes before them. Arya wanted to laugh in amusement at his deep contemplation as if this game of runes would determine the fate of the Alagaësia. His hair was tousled as if he had just woken up and his sparkling brown eyes were narrowed. "You have been staring at the game for nearly ten minutes now. Will you make a move?"

"I am thinking," murmured Eragon, "Give me but a moment."

Inwardly chuckling at his posture, she continued to watch him steadily waiting for him to make a move. Either way, he was going to have to realize that whichever way he did move would be a loss for she had effectively cornered him with no escape. Of course, she could tell him that but it wouldn't be as amusing. Rather than merely sit in silence, she began to speak to him, "I heard that Roran has returned successfully from Aroughs."

"Hmm…"

"They say that he used the current of the river to break into the city with a few men."

"Hmm…"

"A very impressive feat."

Suddenly Eragon groaned as realization hit him that he had lost the match of runes. Unable to help herself, she let out a peal of laughter at his graceless defeat. Piling the runes away, he glared at her slightly put out, "You could at least have told me that it was impossible to win after your last move."

"And ruin all my enjoyment?" she asked him. He looked like he was going to argue about her definition of enjoyment but thought otherwise. Instead, he moved to sit behind her on their cot with a gleam in his eyes. Arya turned her head to follow him but stopped when she felt him pull her until she was sitting between his legs with her back pressed to his chest. Had it not been for the calm pace of his heart and his steady breaths, she would have thought that he had another particular type of enjoyment in mind. Intertwining her legs with his, Arya leaned back against him. "Have you surrendered to the fact that I am the better of us in runes?"

"You can have the title of rune master if that pleases you," his arm came to wrap about her slim waist and she felt his lips against her neck for a brief moment. A breath left him, caressing her skin as it so. "Though I dare say I was hardly the most challenging of opponents."

"You were not," said Arya agreeing with him smiling slightly as he grumbled. "What was that Eragon?"

"There was no need for you to reaffirm it," repeated Eragon, he paused his hands had reached down to take one of her hands. She let him run his fingers lightly over hers as if he was studying it intently. "You should play a game of runes with Angela one day."

At the suggestion, she fought to cringe. It would be an honor to play a game of runes with the witch but at the same time Arya knew that Angela was not going to merely play the game but she was going to play Arya as well. She knew without a doubt that the witch enjoyed teasing her. She could only imagine what sort of conversation might come out if they were sitting across from each other playing runes. "Angela has a unique way of gaining the upper advantages when playing runes so I have heard."

His chuckle made his chest vibrate slightly against her back, "You mean to say that she is a cheater?"

She didn't answer him but he took that for an answer and continued to laugh. It was a peaceful afternoon thought Arya as she sat against Eragon merely conversing with him. Though Dras-Leona laid but a few hundred yards away from them, she did not feel threatened in the least. It had been clear after a few days since they had set camp that Faust would not openly attack them.

Reassured by this fact, she continued on about life regularly until they could find a way to breach the city. It would be foolish and prideful of her to say that she was not afraid of what laid behind the large city walls. It was her duty however and she was not going to back down from it. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against Eragon's content to just sitting with him as her thoughts milled about her mind.

They were so close to the end. The century that she had been living—everything that she had been preparing herself for—was but a month or two away. She felt her heart constrict in her chest at the thought of it and she saw in her mind her mother riding gloriously into battle prepared to lay down her life for the greater good. The thought was gone and replaced by another. Valiantly flourishing his blades, Eragon and Saphira flew towards the castle ready to face death in exchange for freedom. Time which had never frightened her was slowly showing her just how limited life could be.

Was this how humans felt she wondered idly. She felt Eragon shift behind her and suddenly she was lying against him her head pillowed by his chest as he wrapped an arm about her waist pulling her closer to him. Not denying him his chance to rest she reached down to pull the covers over them. If they could rest together just for but a moment she would take it. It was unusual for her to feel so at peace. A breath left her lips as she let herself relax and rest knowing that at any given moment they could be called out to battle.

It felt as if it had been but mere seconds since she had closed her eyes only to be rudely awaken by a loud voice calling for her and Eragon. Recognizing that it was Murtagh calling for them, she gently untangled herself from her mate as he continued to sleep either unaware of his half-brother calling for him or merely choosing to ignore it.

"What it is Murtagh?" called Arya softly as she smoothed her hair from her face feeling rejuvenated. There was a pause before he answered her, his voice slightly muffled as it carried through the thick fabric of her tent.

"Nasuada wishes that we report to her command tent, it appears that Jeod has found a way about our predicament," though he was speaking vaguely Arya knew full well what Murtagh was referring to. Wide awake, she swung her legs over her cot standing.

"We shall be there," Arya promised him. His departing footsteps told her that he had heard and was on his way to the command tent. Strapping Támerlein to her waist, Arya turned to the slumbering Eragon. He was now sleeping on his side burrowed underneath the covers. Even at a time like this he still did not deem any matter important enough to be taken from his sleep. There are some things that would never change thought Arya fondly as she stared down at Eragon. What was he going to do if he was a father? Or when he had to lead the order of the Dragon Riders?

Reaching down, she let her fingers glide across his cheek, "Eragon you must wake. We are needed at the command tent," he did not answer her but continued to sleep but she could feel a growing awareness in his mind tinged with irritation. Her fingers ghosted over his jaw line and began to trace the muscles of his neck. "Are you going to remain stubborn in your hopeless endeavors to sleep?"

He shifted before lifting his head from the pillow, a dark scowl on his face. Still rather drowsy, he sat up, "If this is another worthless conference I shall have Jeod's head on a pike," muttered Eragon darkly.

Arya made a sound of exasperation as his words met her ears. "There are more important matters than sleep," she told him as he planted his feet on the ground making no indication to stand or move from the cot. Knowing the most effective way to wake him, she leaned down and tenderly met his lips with hers before pulling away despite his searching hands. "Get your swords Eragon, we need to hurry."

Still grumbling but now wide awake, he stood and strapped Vrangr to his back and Brisingr to his hip. She watched him still amused as he made his way to her side looking for all the world that he rolled out of bed, which he did. Shaking her head, she took his hand in hers and pulled him from their tent. Barely acknowledging those about them, the two of them purposefully strolled through the camp their long strides unmatched by the others about them. The more they walked the more alert Eragon grew until it seemed as if his strides were propelled by his anxiety. When they arrived at the command tent and was granted entrance she was glad to see that they were not the last to arrive. It was a mannerism that was ingrained into her when she was younger but she could not tolerate tardiness.

His hand gripping hers, Eragon made his way to stand on Nasuada's left therefore causing Arya to stand to Eragon's right. Her eyes caught his and she squeezed his hand once before untangling their fingers. Letting her gaze roam the tent she caught sight of Murtagh across from her and inclined her head at him. Beside him was Rosalie, the beautiful red head glanced at her momentarily before her eyes flitted to rest on Eragon. She should feel uncomfortable thought Arya as the tent flap was pushed aside to reveal Bard and Brom but she had come to realize that Rosalie would always come to care of Eragon.

She thought of Blödhgarm and how he was very interested in Rosalie. Though Arya did not give much thought to the affairs of others, she wondered how it would between Blödhgarm and Rosalie. "Arya, my lord," Bard inclined his head respectfully as he came to stand by her Brom standing on his other side.

"Bard," she replied in kin. She particularly liked Bard amongst Eragon's servants. Eragon merely grunted at his servant. Well, it would have been too much to ask for him to speak civilly after he had just awoke.

Soon enough the tent was gathered with an array of people. Lined about the command tent were Murtagh's guards, Blödhgarm standing behind Rosalie and the leaders were gathered about the table. In addition to those already present Jeod, King Orrin, and Orik had joined them. Sitting upright in her heavily backed chair, Nasuada stared at Jeod as he stood on the opposite end of the table across from her. She appeared defined and regal especially with Jörmundur and Eragon by her side.

"Now Jeod I have heard from Murtagh that you may have discovered a way about our current situation," said Nasuada as the man nodded, "Will you please explain it to us?"

From the piles of scrolls and books in front of him, Jeod picked up a slim volume bound in red leather and began his narrative, "Some five hundred years ago, Queen Forna sent Erst Graybeard to Dras-Leon, or rather what was to _become _Dras-Leona."

"And why did she send him?" asked Nasuada while she toyed with the fringe of her sleeve.

"The dwarves were in the midst of a clam war, and Forna hoped that she could secure the support of our race by helping King Radgar with the planning and construction of the fortifications for the city, even as they dwarves engineered the defenses for Aroughs. However Dolgrath Halfstave killed Forna and Erst Graybeard had no choice but to return to the Beor Mountains as fast as he could to defend his clan from the Halfstave's predations. But before he left, it seems Erst did start on his work. He had begun to draw up plans for the sewer system underneath the center of the city, since that would affect how the fortifications would be built."

From his place at the far end of the table that filled the middle of Nasuada's pavilion, Orik nodded and said, "That's true enough. You have to work out where and how the weight is distributed and determine what's appropriate for the kind of earth you're dealing with. Otherwise, you're liable to have cave-ins."

Eragon shifted on his feet and Arya could tell that he was impatient.

Jeod continued, "Of course, Dras-Leona doesn't have underground sewers, so I assumed that nothing like Erst's plans were ever put into effect. However…" he continued to read to them from the red volume in his hands. As he did so Arya leaned over the table to study the map of Dras-Leona to try and see whether what he said added up. "I happened to be perusing _The Acts of Taradas and Other Mysteries of Occult Phenomena as Recorded Throughout the Ages of Men, Dwarves, and the Most Ancient Elves _when—"

"It is a work filled with mistakes," said Arya knowing of the book he was speaking about. She had read it before and nearly ripped the book at the things that were invented by the man. "The author knew little of my people, and what he did not know, he invented."

"That may be," said Jeod, "but he knew a great deal about humans, and it is humans were are interested in." She heard him open the book before he continued his explanation, "During his investigations, Othman spent some time in this region. He mainly studied Helgrind and the strange happenings associated with it, but he also had this to say about Dras-Leona: _The people of the city also often complain of peculiar sounds and odors wafting up from under their streets and floors, especially at night, which they attribute to ghosts and spirits and other uncanny creatures, but if they are spirits, they are unlike any I have heard of before, as spirits elsewhere seem to avoid enclosed spaces." _

Jeod closed the book, "Fortunately, Othman was nothing if not thorough, and he marked the locations of the sounds on a map of Dras-Leona, where, as you can see, they form a nearly straight line through the old part of the city."

Nasuada nodded before she said, "Explain it to me again."

While she had Jeod go through the same explanation at least three times, Arya was busy staring at the map of Dras-Leona. If what he said was right, then there was an underground tunnel to Dras-Leona one that they could take advantage of. Keeping one ear on the conversation she continued to study the map trying to memorize it as well as think of several strategies that might be put into motion if the tunnel did indeed exist.

When Nasuada was satisfied with the explanation she spoke, "You are to be congratulated on your research Goodman Jeod. You may have once again performed a great service for the Varden." She rose from her high-backed chair and walked over to look at the map. The hem of her dress rustled as it dragged across the ground. "If we send a scout to investigate, we risk alerting the Empire to our interest in that area. Assuming the tunnel existed it would be of little value to us then; Faust and his creature would be expecting us on the other end." She looked at Jeod. "How wide do you think this tunnel would be? How many men could fit in it?"

Orik cleared his throat, then said, "The earth here is soft and claylike, with a fair bit of silt layered throughout it—horrible for tunneling. If Erst had any sense, he wouldn't have planned to have one large channel carry away the city's waste; he would have laid down several smaller passageways, to reduce the likelihood of a cave-in. I'd guess that none of them would be wider than a yard or so."

Orik's explanation was as good as any thought Arya for he had lived most his life underground and understood the ways of tunneling. Nasuada returned to her seat and stared at the map with unfocused eyes, as if she was gazing at something far away.

Bard shifted slightly before he spoke, "In order to use this information to the best of our advantage my lady, we must act as if the tunnel exists. If it does not, it will do little to harm or alter our current position."

She nodded, "Yes and if it does it should allow us to capture Dras-Leona once and for all."

"What have you in mind?" asked King Orrin in a tone of caution.

"Something bold; something…_unexpected." _

Arya did not like the sound of that. Nasuada fell silent again, and everyone in the pavilion, including Arya, waited to see what she would come up with. At last she stirred and said, "This: we send a small team of warriors to open the gates from the inside."

Arya instantly felt a chill was over her knowing where this might lead.

"And how is anyone supposed to manage that?" demanded Orik. "It would be tricky enough if all they had to face were hundreds of soldiers stationed in the area, but in case you have forgotten, there's also a giant monstrosity lounging close by as well as Galbatorix's head magician within the walls."

Then Eragon spoke much to Arya's silent protest, "I can do it."

Arya turned her head to stare at Eragon but he was busy staring at the map with a set expression. Her eyes flickered to Nasuada as she considered his words, the she nodded, "Very well."

Immediately the tent erupted in a confusion of overlapping voices as everyone began to speak at once. Trying to reign in her emotions, Arya spoke fighting to be heard over the din: "Nasuada, you cannot allow Eragon to endanger himself so. It would be unconscionable. Send some of Blödhgarm's spellcasters instead. They are as mighty warriors as any you can find, including Eragon."

Nasuada shook her head and a sense of impending doom gripped at Arya. They were letting Eragon walk into a den of wolves with the least bit of protection. He was strong Arya admitted but he was not invincible. His loss would be a crippling blow to them if everything in Dras-Leona went astray. "None of Galbatorix's men would dare kill Eragon. Besides, Eragon is our strongest spellcaster, and it may require a great deal of strength to force open the gates. Of all of us, he has the best chance of success."

"What if he is captured, though?" she felt the panic she tried to keep at bay return to her. Just the thought of such a fate made her want to break something and it shocked her for she was never violent. It was like a fight between the two of them as they each tried to show them the flaws and benefits in the plan. Eventually when Arya's emerald eyes landed on Eragon, she felt her expression tighten.

"The I will accompany Eragon."

He looked like he wanted to argue with her but did not say anything. Nasuada appeared as if she wanted to argue but Eragon spoke, "With Arya by my side, this will be short and easy work," he said confidently. Arya did not respond to his roundabout way of flattery. Inside she was still frustrated about their situation but if he was willingly going to walk into what could be his death she would accompany him. They had to stay together. He paused before glancing about the tent, "Let us take one of Blödhgarm's spellcasters. It will be much needed help for such a dangerous task and no one else is fit for the task, not among the Varden."

"Oh, and what am I, chopped liver?"

Everyone turned to look, surprised, as Angela stepped forward from a corner at the back of the tent. Arya had not even suspected she was there. Eragon, the only one unmoved by her appearance, raised his brow before replying to her no doubt rhetorical question: "With the way you carry about here it would be safe to assume so."

Immediately Angela sent Eragon a glare, "I shall pretend I did not hear that from you Shadeslayer. I still have not forgotten the earlier blight you have done to me," she paused before staring up at Eragon, "Will you object if I accompany you, Argetlam? I'm not a member of the Varden not strictly speaking, but I'm still willing to join this triad of yours."

He glanced at Arya and she, despite her past encounters with Angela, bowed her head and said, "Of course, wise one. It would be an honor to have you with us."

"Good!" exclaimed Angela. "That is assuming you don't mind," she said, directing her words to Nasuada.

Appearing somewhat bemused, Nasuada shook her head. "If you are willing, neither Eragon nor Arya objects, then I can think of no reason why you shouldn't go. I can't imagine why you'd want to, though."

Angela tossed her curls. "Do you expect me to explain every decision I make?...Oh, very well, if it'll satisfy your curiosity, let's say I have a grudge against the priests of Helgrind, and I'd like the chance to do them some mischief."

At this Arya watched as a dangerous grin spread across Eragon's face, "It appears that you and I are the same in thought for once Angela. I will also like to repay them for the few slights they have done to me years ago. I must say, we will have to compete to deliver our punishment else there may not be enough left to punish."

"Oh?" Angela appeared enthused by his words as if it was a worthwhile challenge. "You believe that you will be able to best me? My, my, do not underestimate me Eragon. I shall show you just how unforgiving I can be and you shall do well to remember for I still have to deal with you."

"I shall look forward to it," Eragon's grin widened and Arya found herself staring between the excited witch Angela and the blood seeking mate of hers. Inwardly she sighed as she brought her fingers up to rub her temple. The earlier peace that she had felt within his arms was now shattered with their new and seemingly impossible mission. Now it appeared that she was going to be watching over children on their journey.

Then Nasuada began to discuss questions of logistics with Orrin and Orik. Arya withdrew from the conversation. She had little to contribute. In the privacy of her mind, she reached out to Eridor. _Do you agree with the plan Eridor? _

_I do, it may not be a safe one but it is a good plan. You and Eragon have done such a thing before back at Belatona remember? The two of you swam through a waterway underneath the city and breached the gates from within to open it for us. The same situation may apply here. _

_Yes, but then there was no Faust or the monster he created. Nor was there a possibility of coming across the cannibals of the priest of Helgrind. If we take one wrong turn, or end up walking on a stray path we may as well hang our lives on a flag a surrender. _

_So pessimistic. Remember Arya that you are a dangerous foe in your own right. Eragon is also an accomplished fighter. He will be able to fend off the oncoming enemies. If you do indeed run into such enemies, you can merely bite them. _

Arya felt a tinge of heat in her cheeks at Eridor's words. She pointedly ignore Eragon as his eyes flickered to her as he conversed with Angela. He raised a brow curiously. Staring straight ahead, she thought of Eridor's words and had half the mind to scold him. It was now a known fact between Eragon and Eridor that Arya had a tendency to bite when she was in the throes of passion. On numerous occasions she had indeed bitten Eragon, sometimes hard enough to draw blood. If Angela were to ever find out she would never hear the end of it.

_There is nothing wrong with a few love bites here and there. _

_Eridor…_

At the warning in her voice, his deep chuckled rumbled through her mind. _I shall cease my teasing. I shall go hunt with Saphira. I believe we'll not have a chance to eat again until after we attack. _

_Fly safely, _she said.

As she felt his presence receding from her mind, she turned back to the conversation at hand. When they were dismissed to go about the plan, Arya made her way back to her tent promptly refusing to speak to Eragon. It was still frustrating to believe that he would volunteer for such a dangerous plan. It was necessary she knew but it still did nothing to abate her irritation with him. He followed her quietly seemingly aware that he was not on a favorable foot with her. She had no right for anger at him but it was irrational what she was feeling at the moment.

Her long strides fueled with her irritation easily carried her through the camp and anyone with eyes could tell that she was not someone to be irked with at this moment. Those who she came across in her path immediately scurried out of sight at her dark expression clearing the way back to her tent. When she reached their shared tent, Arya threw the tent flap aside and went to gather her light armor. He followed behind her.

"Are you angered at my choice?" asked Eragon as he sat down on the cot watching her.

Arya pursed her lips closing her eyes before turning to face him, "It is irrational I know but I cannot help but feel as if you do not understand the gravity of certain situations Eragon. It is one thing to do something out of necessity but another to willingly throw yourself at the opportunity to do so."

"So you are angered that I willing volunteered to go," Eragon said. It was a statement not a question.

"I am ashamed to admit it but I am," said Arya. Eragon raised a brow.

"You would not be angered, however, if Nasuada had ordered me to do it."

Begrudgingly Arya nodded, "I would not be angry at you but I would be silently harboring ill feelings towards Nasuada at the point." He stared at her for a long moment. Unable to continue staring into his brown eyes, she turned and started to tug on her light armor. Usually during such missions that required stealth she would not don her armor but seeing as the danger of this particular task was a hundred fold than their recent ones, she needed her armor.

"I would say you are worried for me," said Eragon sounding like he was enjoying her anger. At the lightness of his voice, she turned to him, her bracer forgotten on her arm as she glared at him. He did not respond but merely his smile widened.

"I do not think I see the humor in this situation," Arya barely hissed through her teeth. Her blood was running through her veins with tremendous pressure and she felt as if she was going to burst from her anxiety and fear. Seeing this, Eragon stood and made his way towards her. His fingers glided over her bracer and tightened it comfortably before reaching out and drawing her against him.

"I apologize if I make it look as if I am not taking this situation seriously Arya," he murmured as he held her to his chest. "However, rather than worry about the possibility of our survival let us focus on the task at hand. I can promise to you that we will not die during this task." The fact that he could say it in the ancient language made her worry abate slightly. "We still have to march to Urû'baen."

"Still I cannot help but worry," she thought of Faust and fought the shiver that wanted to overcome her body. Instead her grip on Eragon tightened.

"If it is of any comfort we will have Angela accompanying us," said Eragon and she could tell from his voice that he was entirely at ease with the witch. "I do not claim to know much about the herbalist but I would wager that she has danced around her fair share of troubling situations."

"She is a wise one," agreed Arya.

"No doubt a millennium years old," he added. Arya had to fight a smile. If Angela heard him she would no doubt smack Eragon over his head appalled by his lack of manners. She pulled away from his slightly shaking her head.

"You say that now and you may very well end up offending what could be our savior if we do end up in a precarious situation," said Arya as Eragon made a disbelieving face. "Anything may happen this time around Eragon."

"I know," his expression grew serious as he lifted her hands to his lips kissing her fingers. "That is why I want to spend this time with you for a moment without irritation or anger. We may not be able to until after we manage to seize Dras-Leona."

Her eyes softened as she stared up at him unable to remain angry at him. Instead she nodded her fingers curling about his as she leaned forward to kiss him, her tongue parting his lips gently as she tried to taste as much of Eragon as she could. They were going to be risking everything with this mission and she refused to go into it without one last embrace with Eragon.

Besides, she was going to be unable to share any tender touches with him with Angela around. The witch would never let it pass without a taunting remark. At the thought of it, she tightened her grip on Eragon a hand coming up to curl about in his hair.

They were not going to die today. She would believe in his words.

**You know I am just itching to post the spin-off but it would ruin the ending to this story if I did...So I'll just have to wait. Please do review everyone it makes me feel better and more motivated. Apart from that, I don't think there was any questions in the review particularly that I wanted to address. Oh, and if you noticed all the references to Arya's hand...that's my way of having Eragon show his love for that particular anatomy of hers before she goes tearing off her skin. Look forward to the next chapter people. (p.s. if you guys move me enough I'll even extend the story into the post-war Alagaesia which I was planning on only writing a few chapters about. Just a passing thought.) Anyways see you all soon! **


	84. Chapter 80

Chapter 80

**Back again and rather quickly. This is merely a chapter leading up to the start of some rather intense stuff if you will. I used some descriptions and such from the original in the Chapter "Under Hill and Stone" (268-284) written by Paolini. That is my standard disclaimer. There really wasn't anything important that I wanted to address in this A/N. Anyways R&R everyone. **

Rolling his shoulders comfortably, Eragon shifted the cloak over his shoulders unable to get it into a comfortable position. He was relaxed despite the danger that laid in their mission. His eyes darted to Arya, she too wore a long cloak to cover her light armor and weapons.

Darkness lay all around them, heavy and oppressive A thick layer of clouds obscured the moon and the stars. Without the red werelight Angela held in the palm of her hand, even Eragon and Arya would have been unable to see. The air was humid and once or twice he felt drops of rain strike his cheeks. He turned to stare at Arya moving forward to adjust her cloak about her neck.

"Are you cold?" he asked his hands moving underneath her cloak to touch her arms. He could feel the chill on her skin and frowned. Arya's hands came up to run along his, the two of them standing together with each other as Angela spoke to Nasuada, Jörmundur, Brom, Murtagh, and the dragons had accompanied them to the edge of the camp, where they now stood. Among the tents, the men of the Varden, dwarves, and Urgals were busy preparing to march forth.

"Don't forget," said Nasuada, her breath steaming in front her, "If you can't reach the gates by dawn, find somewhere to wait until tomorrow morning, and we'll try again then."

"We may not have the luxury of waiting," said Arya as she turned away from him, withdrawing her hands. Eragon caught Angela's eyes and raised a brow as the herbalist smirked at him turning away.

Nasuada rubbed her arms and nodded. She appeared unusually worried. "I know. Either way, we'll be ready to attack as soon as you contact us, no matter the time of day. Your safety is more important than capturing Dras-Leona. Remember that." Her gaze drifted towards Eragon as she spoke. He glanced up at the night sky turning.

"We should be off," said Eragon as he spared Saphira one last look, gently stroking her snout as Arya embraced Eridor about his neck before they parted. The two of them followed Angela away from the camp, heading toward the eastern edge of the city. All was quiet save for the sounds of their breathing and of their boots on the ground. Eragon had the strongest urge to take Arya's hand in his but fought to do so remembering how she told him that they had to keep their touches to themselves because she did not want Angela's taunting remarks to be said during such a crucial mission.

Angela dimmed the light in her palm until was barely bright enough for Eragon to see his feet. He had to strain his eyes to spot rocks and braches that lay in the way. They walked in silence for nearly an hour, at which point the herbalist stopped and whispered, "We're here, as best I can tell. I'm fairly good at reckoning distances, but we might be off by more than a thousand feet. It's hard to be certain of anything in this gloom."

Nodding, Eragon crouched and placed his hand on the ground murmuring the ancient language underneath his breath to weave through the dirt and feel for the hollow in the ground. It was a spell that he had learned from the dwarves as they taught him how to detect underground chambers. As he searched for the underground tunnel, he thought of the upcoming battle. When it happened he was going to give Faust a taste of his mind. He was going to drag that man out in the open and kill him in the most torturing of ways. It was his just revenge to someone who had tortured him when he was younger. He had no regrets in doing so. As he searched, he thought of Arya and how much danger she was in at the moment.

He would be lying if he said that he wasn't worried for her. If she fell into the hands of the cult, he didn't even want to know what he would do. Continuing the spell, Eragon couldn't help but feel naked seeing as he had given Murtagh the Belt of Beloth the Wise before he left. He wanted his brother to have a good chance of attacking and taking Faust had on if he came to contact with the magician.

Suddenly he felt his magic weave about a hollow and stopped the outpouring of the ancient language from his lips. The moment the words stopped, Arya asked. "Have you found it?"

"It's this way," said Eragon, standing. He led them over a road and a series of small hills, then down into a shallow was hidden within the folds of the land. "The mouth of the tunnel should be somewhere here," said Eragon as they went about the western bank of depression.

Angela increased the brightness of her werelight enough for them to search by; then Eragon and Arya began to comb through the brush along the side of the bank. For twenty minute they searched, ranging up and down the bank. At last, Eragon heard a ring of metal, and then Arya softly called, "It is here."

He and Angela hurried towards her, where she stood by a small, overgrown hollow in the side of the bank. Arya drew aside the brush to reveal a stone-line tunnel five feet tall and three feet wide. A rusting iron grate covered the gaping hole.

"Look," said Arya pointing to the ground. There was a path leading out of the tunnel. The trail had been worn into place by the passage of tramping feet. One or more people much have been using the tunnel to surreptitiously enter and exit Dras-Leona.

"It appears as if we weren't the first to know of the tunnel," said Eragon with a frown as he started forward to place his hands on the grating. Then with a gentle tug, he pulled it off setting it quietly on the side.

"There were no doubt some curious citizens who decided to see to the strange sounds coming from under Dras-Leona," said Arya as Eragon peered into the darkness. Refusing to let Arya go first in case there might be some danger up ahead, he hunched slightly as he moved into the tunnel. He held out his palm and murmured the spell to conjure his own blue werelight to light the way before him.

"You look rather uncomfortable Eragon," he heard Angela's words from the rear. He was glad that Arya was behind him, he would not like to have the herbalist guarding his back. After all, she still wanted to pay him back for the towel nonsense some time ago.

"If you were not so short, you would have the honor of feeling like an old man," said Eragon. He paused as he glanced back at Arya to find that she, too, was hunched over looking uncomfortable. Her eyes caught his. Then he turned about and continued about. For the most part, the tunnel was empty. A fine layer of caked dirt covered the floor. A few sticks and rocks, and even a discarded snakeskin, were scattered near the mouth of the tunnel. The passageway smelled like damp straw and moth wings.

Eragon and Arya walked as quietly as they could, but the tunnel magnified sounds. Every bump and scrape echoed, filling the air with a multitude of overlapping whispers that seemed to murmur and sigh with life of their own.

When they had gone a fair ways down the tunnel, Eragon paused and looked back at the entrance which was lost to the darkness and felt his throat constrict. This was reminding him too much of the horrors he had spent underneath Faust. Turning to continue walking, he tried not to think of how they were caged in like animals just like when Faust had caged him in for nearly a year. He tried not to think of the fact that there was no easy escape and that they might be walking into their deaths. Closing his eyes, he felt sweat drop from his face. It was not hot in the tunnel but rather chilly.

"Eragon are you feeling unwell?" Arya's voice sounded directly behind him. He shook his head.

"No, I was just thinking," he answered her back. He felt her hand grip his from behind to try and give him some sort of comfort. It lasted for a barely a second before Angela spoke.

"Now if the tender moment is done with, let us move forward Eragon," he turned and tried to glare at her but could barely see her past Arya.

"We should have left you back at the camp," muttered Eragon as he started forward hearing her quiet laugh.

"You may end up eating your own words in but a few more moments," she warned him. Not likely thought Eragon amused. What could Angela do that they possibly couldn't? He could save himself and even then Arya would no doubt come to his rescue before Angela.

On and one they went through the tunnel, which ran straight as an arrow, never bending, never turning. Eragon thought he detected a slight upward slant to the floor—which would make sense as it was designed to channel waste out of the city—but he was not entirely sure.

He couldn't tell how much time had passes as they walked through the tunnel. It could have been an hour. It could have been ten but he knew from experience that it was his mind playing tricks on him. The darkness swallowed the essence of time in its shadows and the repeating brick walls about them gave one the illusion that they had been walking in the same place without moving forward. The only thing that indicated any sort of change was the dirt beneath their feet. It began to soften and stick to their boots, like wet clay.

At last he noticed the echoes were waning and ever more of a delay was appearing between each repetition of the sounds. Soon afterward, the tunnel disgorged them into a large rectangular chamber with a ridged, half-dome ceiling over fifteen feet high at is apex. The chamber was empty expect for a rotting barrel in one corner. Across from them, three identical archways opened to three identical rooms, small and dark.

The three of them stopped and Eragon gratefully took this moment to straighten feeling the muscles in his back resist after being hunched over for some time. Rolling his shoulders and neck, he turned to Arya and Angela as they studied the archways. Not minding the fact that they might end up wandering for most of the night through the tunnels, he made his way over to Arya placing a hand on the small of her back, letting his fingers glide over her sore muscles. It was the least he could do for her seeing as Angela would oftentimes glance back at them as if to make sure they were proper.

"This would not have been part of Erst Graybeard's plans," said Arya leaning back against his hand slightly. Her emerald eyes were narrowed and moving between the archways.

"I say we take the center one," said Eragon as he glanced at the right archway. Angela turned to him looking appalled.

"That is what the engineer wanted you to think," said Angela as she stared up at the center archway peering into the tunnel. "One would think, well since this is the center archway and it continues from the path we've just been in it is bound to lead us up to the city. That is where you are wrong Eragon. This archway will no doubt lead us astray. I say we take the left archway."

"And why would we take the left archway over the right one?" asked Eragon refusing to give into the herbalist.

"It is always the left," she said as if it was evident enough why the left one was so important. Just then Eragon noticed the werecat, Solembum trailing behind Angela. When had he joined their party? He glanced at Arya and she merely shook her head warily as if not to question Angela.

"I say we take the right," said Eragon watching as Angela spared a hard stare. "If one were to change their perspective of things. The right is indeed the left so I am taking your advice just how I interrupt it."

"Very clever of you," said Angela with narrowed eyes, she walked past them sparing Arya a look, "I hope you aren't planning on being intimate with your mate for some time. There are a few things I'd like to deal with in regards to Eragon."

He raised a brow as Arya inclined her head at Angela. Then she spoke in a quiet voice, "Let it wait until we are done here wise one."

"But of course, there are priorities after all," she said as she led the way towards the right archway. "Very well, we'll try it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you if we end up wandering around here for days on end."

Holding her werelight aloft, Angela took the lead with Arya following behind and Eragon bringing up the read. He made it a point to keep Arya in the middle. It was him being paranoid on many levels but he wanted to make sure that whatever danger there was it wouldn't reach her first.

The room through the rightmost archway was larger than it had first appeared, for it extended to the side for twenty feet, then turned and continued for another few yards, whereupon it ended at a corridor studded with empty sconces. Down the corridor was another small room lined with three arches, each of which led to rooms with even more archways, and so on.

They followed Angela, who never hesitated or seemed confused about which direction to go, for without fail, she chose the path to the right. It was a somewhat simple way about their predicament but Eragon did not argue with her seeing as he had not the slightest clue as to which pathway to take. Arya, seeming to hold a great respect for Angela despite her constant teasing, followed her without question.

The herbalist stopped when they arrived at a circular room with seven equally spaced archways placed along the walls. Seven corridors, including the one they had just traversed, stretched out from the archways.

"Mark where we came from, or we'll get completely turned around," said Arya.

He did so with the tip of Brisingr's cross-guard. This place appeared familiar to him for some reason thought Eragon as he made his way to the center where Angela stood staring up at the ceiling. It was as if he was here before in a long forgotten memory.

"What is it?" asked Eragon as he stared at the enrapt herbalist as she stared up at the ceiling. She ignored him standing on tiptoe as she raised her werelight as high as she could to examine the ceiling. He glanced up as Arya came to join them staring up at the ceiling as well. Etched on the ceiling were blocks of ancient, mold covered stones in which lines of deeply carved runes stared down at them. They were neat and small, with sharp angles and straight stems. Mold and the passage of centuries had obscured parts of the text, but most of it remained legible. They seemed familiar as if in a long forgotten memory.

"This is the language of Tosk," said Eragon confused. Why was this here of all places?

"I am surprised that you recognized it," said Angela but she had not said it as a mocking jab. She was too focused on the ceiling. He was surprised to see her so enthralled with something. She didn't ever seem to put much of her attention into anything really.

"Of course I do," said Eragon, "It serves as the foundation of the cult of Helgrind. Tosk if I remember correctly in my studies, was not the first to offer up prayers to Helgrind, but he was the first to codify his beliefs and practices, and many others have imitated him since. Those who worship Helgrind regard him as a prophet of some sort. A prophet of the divine. However I would like to understand why this language is here."

"This is a history of Tosk, from his birth to his death: a true history," said Angela her eyes never leaving the ceiling. "We could learn much from this. If only we had the time…"

Eragon was about to tell her that he did not think it was wise for them to linger but Arya had glanced at the seven corridors and spoke, "A moment, then, but read quickly."

He raised a brow as he followed her, it seemed like she was unable to not break Angela away letting her indulge in the history of Tosk for but a while longer. He merely observed Arya as she made her way over to one of the archways and in an undertone, chanted a spell for searching and finding. When she finished, she waited a moment with her head cocked, then moved on to the next archway.

Arya stopped in front of the fourth archway. Eragon continued to watch her feeling uneasy. He did not like the fact that they had encountered the language of Tosk here. It could only mean the coming of something unpleasant. Where the priests of Helgrind were mentioned nothing god became of it.

When Arya made to cast the spell on the seventh archway a guttural yowl echoed down the corridors, seemingly from all directions. Eragon immediately drew his swords as he heard a hiss and a spat and a screech.

Angela whirled around. "Solembum!"

She and Arya immediately drew their weapons. Arya moved towards the seventh archway, "This way."

The herbalist refused to budge. "No!" she whispered vehemently. "We have to help him." Eragon noticed that she held a short sword with a strange colorless blade that flashed gemlike in the light.

Arya scowled, "If Faust learns we're here, we'll—"

It happened so quickly and silently, Eragon would have never have noticed had he not been looking in the right direction: a half-dozen doors hidden within the walls of three different corridors swung open, and thirty or so black-garbed men ran out toward them, sword in hand. He recognized them instantly. They were the priests of Helgrind. That was why the language of Tosk was etched into the ceiling. They were underneath the black citadel of the cult.

That could only mean that Faust was somewhere close by. Feeling his sudden anger flare within him, Eragon swung Brisingr in his hand looping of the head of the priest before him not paying any attention to the flying head that spun continuously through the air before hitting the wall. Without any break in the movement of his hand, he skewered another man through the ribs but was surprised when the man did not falter in his attack. Instead he brought his sword up which was snapped away by Vrangr as Eragon deflected it. Then unforgiving, he twisted Brisingr in the man's rib and cleanly sliced him horizontally in half as he called to Arya and Angela.

"They cannot feel pain!" With a flurry of his blades, he blocked the oncoming attacks and made it a point from then to sever every head he saw or stab through each heart that presented itself to him. It was growing into a blood bath as he shifted backwards in the red liquid that was pooling on the ground, the swarm of attackers growing more persistent refusing to give them any respite. It was not that they were stronger than Eragon, Arya, or Angela. There were just too many in number. He turned to find Arya being pushed back the swarm of black garbed mans threatening to swallow her.

Instantly an animalistic growl left him at the thought of Arya at the mercy of such men and he lunched forward creating a shield on all sides as he flourished Vrangr and Brisingr on both sides of him keeping any blades away and slicing anyone who was foolish enough to come closer. The sheer number and the enclosed space made it difficult for them to fight on even footing. Swinging his arm at the attackers before Arya, he watched satisfied as Brisingr easily cut through neck after neck, beheading five people. The lifeless bodies crashed to the ground giving them a moment of respite as the men behind cowered slightly at the swift death that was delivered to their companions.

He was ready to stand his ground and fight but he felt Arya's tug on his cloak. "This way!" she cried and sprang towards the seventh corridor—the one she had failed to examine before the ambush. He ran after her as did Angela, bringing up the rear. The herbalist to his dread was limping and clutching at a blood cut on her shoulder. Behind them the black-garbed men hesitated, milling in the chamber for a moment. Then, with a mighty roar, they gave chase.

Why did they hesitate thought Eragon as he stared after Arya an unbidden fear clawing at him. Was there something at the end of the archway that was waiting for them? He wanted to call out to her before she could run into an ambush or some well laid trap.

Up ahead, he glimpsed an opening through which shone a faint purplish light. He just had time to feel apprehensive about its source before the herbalist uttered a loud cry, and there was a dull orange flash and a teeth-jarring thud, and the smell of sulfur in the air.

Eragon whirled about to see five men dragging the herbalist through a doorway that had opened in the side of the corridor. He reached back towards her trying to stop the door from closing but it swung shut and the wall appeared perfectly solid once more. He tried magic to open the door but it refused to budge. Arya appeared beside him placing her hand on the stone wall trying her own variation of words to open the door but it remained shut. Their pursuers were so close by now, he and Arya had no choice but to turn and face them.

He and Arya beheaded the two lead men, then attacked the next pair of warriors as they stepped over the bodies. In quick succession, they killed six more men, but they were soon replaced. Trying to keep back the flood of warriors, Eragon reached down and grabbed a corpse to swing over his shoulder. He turned to Arya.

"Let us go!" he said as she nodded turning back to the men.

"Stenr slauta!" exclaimed Arya, and all along the corridor the stones in the walls exploded into the passageway. The hail of sharp fragments caused the black clad men to cower and falter, and more than one fell to the floor, crippled.

Eragon took the lead, sheathing Vrangr as he kept an arm wrapped over the corpse on his shoulder. Now that it was clear that they were indeed underneath the black citadel that was home to the cult of Helgrind, he knew that there was something horrible waiting for them at the end of the archway. "Stay behind me," Eragon ordered Arya. She spared him a glance, her complexion a pale white as he ran ahead before her. They came to the opening at the corridor and Eragon stopped, Arya pulling up behind him.

Taking the corpse from his body, he tossed it into the opening waiting and watching for something to happen. He noticed the holes lined about the ground and the ceiling and knew instantly that they were not going to be able to get past without possibly being killed. Arya made to move but Eragon wrapped a hand about her wrist, waiting.

A second passed, his eyes focused on the headless corpse.

And then a thicket of amethyst spikes shot out of the holes, catching the corpse between them. There was a crunch as the spikes embedded themselves within the body, spilling out a tremendous amount of blood. Eragon stared at them spikes and thought of how if he had let Arya take the lead, she would have been impaled by the spikes.

When they escaped the underground tunnels and capture Dras-Leona, he was going to make everyone in the cult pay for what they did or intended to do to them. Even if they couldn't feel pain, he would make them feel pain. He'd crush the entire place underneath his rage.

Behind him, Arya rallied quickly, "Eragon," she said in an urgent voice, "We need to cut a path with our swords."

Unsheathing Vrangr, he started forward swinging both of the swords down on the amethyst spikes. A half-dozen of the spikes shattered beneath their adamantine edges. The amethyst emitted a bell-like tone as it broke, and when the shards struck the ground, they tinkled like ice.

Not slowing his pace, he continued to cut through the spikes shattering them and watching as a dozen pieces flew in every which direction. He made sure to cover Arya as she was close behind him from the shards. When one cut a thin line on his cheek, he knew then that they were imbued with magic to cut through their wards. Seeing the black clad men close behind them, Eragon gritted his teeth as he reached behind him and grabbed Arya easily lifting her up.

"Keep your head against my chest," growled Eragon as he sheathed Vrangr. Then with Brisingr, he cut a path through the rest of the amethyst spike hurrying forward despite the jagged ends that could possibly pierce him. Keeping Arya wrapped in his arms and away from the harm of the shattered spikes, he took the brunt of the injury himself. When they cleared the opening, he set her down, wincing when he put too much pressure on his right calf which was sporting a small gash.

They rushed through the opening and into the purplish light. He was unsure of what to do now. Angela was no doubt fighting for her life, maybe even dead and now he and Arya were cornered by the worshippers of Helgrind. He could feel Arya's fear and panic wash over him and knew that she was also feeling his emotions through their bond.

On the other side of the opening was a dark, heavily built chamber that reminded Eragon of the caves under Tronjheim. A huge circular pattern of inlaid stone—marble and chalcedony and polished hematite—occupied the center of the floor. Around the edge of the pattered disk stood rough, fist-sized chunks of amethyst set within silver collars. Each piece of the purple rock glowed softly—the source of the light they had seen from the corridor. Across the disk, against the far well, was a large black altar draped with a gold and crimson cloth. Pillars and candelabra flanked the altar, with a closed door on each side.

He called out to Arya whose momentum was going to send her through the ring of amethysts and onto the disk. "Arya!"

Sheathing Brisingr, he followed after her as she tried to stop instead she jumped towards the alter as if trying to clear the disk in a single bound. He watched as her body sailed through the air before she came rolling and skidding to a stop within the golden disk between the amethyst ring. She did not stir and he watched as Támerlein slid a few paces away from him.

Forgetting about the fact that they were being chased by hundreds of black clad men, Eragon hurried forward jumping over the amethyst rings as he hurried to Arya. She was breathing but she was unconscious. Did something happen to her? Was it the ring about them? Or the golden disk on the ground. Hearing the doors swing open on either side of the altar Eragon blinked as a tremendous amount of chanting erupted through the opening.

An immobilizing effect overtook him. He felt his body slouch and his mind waver in and out. Refusing to give into the magic that was overtaking him, Eragon bent down towards Arya as if to protect her from whatever it was that was going on about them. He saw the disk of gold flare to life underneath them. He saw the ring of amethyst pulse as if glowing with an unknown energy, its malicious glow burning against the darkness of the opening and the dark robes of those that had gathered about the ring in the center of the room. He saw a shift in the robes and a white robe stood out against the rest.

His vision blinked and he felt his body hunch forward. Hands gripped him and began to drag his body away as he watched the same black clad men who were chasing them reach down towards Arya lifting her up. Trying to fight the people holding him, he was angered when his body did not respond. But the emotion was dull at best as he tried to keep his remaining focus on Arya.

What was going to happen to them now that they were in the hands of the priest of Helgrind thought Eragon struggling to stay awake. Was this the end for them underneath the damp ground. Were they going to die at the hands of Faust and his rabid companions rather than fighting for justice against Galbatorix?

As the thought crossed his mind, Eragon found himself staring up at a familiar face that was blurred. But he recognized the smirk and the gleaming silver eyes. Faust said something, his lips moving but Eragon could not hear him. Instead, he promised to himself the moment his vision started to give way to darkness that the moment he and Arya were freed, he was going to crush everything and anything about the priest of Helgrind.

His last thoughts and feelings were his unending worry and fear for Arya's safety. Then everything went black.

**The reason why I kept this particular plot event close to the books was because I was really moved by Arya's determination to escape even if she had to practically mangle her own hand in doing so. It moved me and I wanted to have that part of Arya seen in this story. That would also bring me to the next thing I wanted to say. I'm going to be doing the imprisonment scene in Arya's POV since I believe it'll make more of an impact. As for the soul bond between Eragon and Arya, it is still there and it shall play an important role in the end. Anyways please do await the next few chapters. After the entire Dras-Leona business there'll be the Vault of Souls, some of my own plot devices, and the final Battle for Uru'baen. And there will be a few post-war chapters as well. Anyways see you all soon! **


	85. Chapter 81

Chapter 81

**A warning before everyone begins. This chapter is something that is entirely different from the other chapters and you will soon realize why. So just take a deep breath and read through it. And please do read the A/N following because there are a few things that should be addressed in regards to this chapter. R&R. **

An icy grip alerted her to the fact that everything was not as it seemed. Eyes fluttering open, Arya lifted her head her neck aching slightly. Where was she? It took her a moment to recognize the chamber since her eyes registered the difference in color due to the absence of Eragon's sapphire werelight. The stone blocks in the ceiling appeared richer than before. Details that had been obscure now seemed sharp and vivid. Below her, the sumptuous nature of the patterned disk was even more apparent. The muted glow from the ring of amethyst as well as the lit candles in the candelabra illuminated the chamber.

As she breathed in through her nose realization dawn on her that something was crammed into her mouth, stretching her jaw painfully wide. Instinctively she reached down to pull the offending gag out only to feel resistance. Her wrists were clamped in a chain mounted in the ceiling. She tried to move but found that her ankles were shackled and secured to a metal loop in the floor.

Feeling her panic grip her at being bound in an unknown place she tugged at her restraints only serving to chaff the skin of her wrist causing her blood to ran down her arm. Her supernatural strength should have pulled the chains apart easily and the fact that the metal had resisted meant that it was protected with magic.

Trying not to let her panic get the better of her, she drew in a deep breath through her nose and tried to calm her racing heart. Despite how thick and slow her thoughts were, she gathered herself reaching for her magic. As soon as she started forming the spell in her mind a searing pain erupted in her body, spreading through her veins clawing at her, burning her from the inside out. Losing her grip on her concentration, the enchantment ended and the pain vanished at once. Was this magic she thought her thoughts dull as she tried to regain her breathing, the earlier agony that had washed over her knocking the wind from her lungs. Her heartbeat erratically uneven, she glanced down at herself.

Her light armor was gone as well as Támerlein. Instantly she felt as if she was bare for the entire world to see. Without her sword she felt insecure and fearful. More so now since she was bound without a means to free herself. Helplessness, she hated the feeling to the point that if felt as if her heart might give its final beat in its cage that was her chest.

Trying to find a means to escape, she twisted in place and relief flooded her. Next to her was Eragon, trussed and suspended in the same manner as she was. Like her, he was gagged with a ball of cloth in his mouth and a rag tied around his head to hold it in place. He was still unconscious but just seeing him in one piece beside her made her glad—glad that he was by her side despite their perilous situation.

He had been stripped of his weapons and armor; clad in only his leggings. Her eyes darted about his chest. The skin was intact and he appeared unhurt expect for the gash on his right calf which was a result of his frantic attempts to break through the jagged amethyst spikes from earlier. She yearned to reach out to touch him and wake him but her restraints gave her no freedom to do so. Instead her only source of comfort was knowing that he was there and that he was beside her.

It was selfish of her to admit it but she was infinitely glad that she and Eragon were together in this imprisonment that might be their end. When she'd first woke, she was deathly afraid that it was a repeat of her tortures at Gil'ead. The thought of being alone, helpless to her captors made her want to thrash about in her panic. It was calmed though at the sight of Eragon. Whatever it was that was going to befall them, they would weather it together.

Unable to do anything else but hang in place bound by her wrists and ankles, Arya waited. She waited to see any indication of time in the chamber. The world was deathly still about her and the only thing that showed that she was alive was the beating of her own heart and the sporadic twitches of her hands as she fought to reign in her fear. If she showed any ounce of fear to their captors, she would never be able to forgive herself. Arya Dröttningu was above that. She was not going to let them have the satisfaction of her seeing her panic and squirm in an attempt to free herself and Eragon. At the thought of them seeking pleasure from her fears, she twisted her wrists in the chains that bound them wincing when she felt another trail of blood run down her arm the earlier one dried.

_It was loud this silence. _

Hanging there, she waited her eyes darting to Eragon's form every once and a while hoping that he might wake. To think that he would continued sleeping despite the fact that their very lives were in danger and with it the hope of a free Alagaësia. As she stared at him, glad to feel his blanketed emotions swirling within her the sound of a door opening drifted over to her sensitive ears. Her eyes darted to the figure in the darkness. The person walked towards them with swift footsteps the door closing softly a second later. Emerging from the shadows illuminated by the glow of the candles and amethyst stones was a figure clad in white robes, encrusted with rubies along the rim of the hood.

Smooth hands reached up and the hood was lowered revealing a lined face of a man in his middle years. His gray hair was slicked back and his silver eyes gleamed as he glanced from Eragon to her. She steeled herself, refusing to let the sight of Faust—the very threat to Eragon's existence—shake her. "I see you are awake Arya," his voice was smooth as he spoke and without any sort of caution he stepped forward into the ring. The magic that was set upon both her and Eragon did not affect him. Instead, he strode forward the hem of his robes ghosting over the patterns in the floor.

Faust strode directly towards her until he stood directly before her. His silver eyes roved over her face and she fought the shock of revulsion that passed through her when he leaned forward to glide his nose over her jaw line. _Stop. _He leaned closer and she felt something wet slide across her cheek. Instantly her hands fisted above her head. "His scent is indeed washed over you," said Faust pulling away a smirk on his face.

He was not done with her. Her emerald eyes followed his right hand as he reached up to stroke her thigh. "To think that the little boy locked away crying for his dragon and mother would have come across such a beautiful delicacy," said Faust his hand climbing higher. "Can you imagine the rage Eragon will go through if he sees the woman he loves violated right before his very eyes?"

Despite her best efforts, her eyes widened no doubt reflecting the horror she was feeling. This only served to increase the delirious look on Faust's face. He smiled and brought his hand up, pressing against the flat of her stomach and ghosting under the swell of her breasts and despite the leather of her clothing, it felt as if he was directly touching her skin and disgust welled up within her. Her arms trembled seeking to break free and break the man's arm.

"So sensitive," commented Faust lightly as he pressed his finger against her collarbone. She did not feel any sort of pleasure but rather a white anger surged through her. "Arya Dröttningu, daughter to Queen Islanzadí, Rider of the third dragon, and a Shadeslayer in her own right. What could you possibly see in something as broken as Eragon?"

_Someone, _Arya wanted to correct him. Eragon wasn't something he was someone. "Well everyone needs to find their own source of comfort," amended Faust as a gleam flashed in Arya's eyes. He smiled reaching up to cup her face in his hands, he roughly tugged her forward until she felt his breath against her face. "I will let you in on a secret Arya. Regardless of what Galbatorix wants, I do not care for this war. I was ordered not to do the both of you any harm but what will that matter to me? Either way, this world is fit to crumble in on itself and give out. So in its last moments I will have my enjoyment."

Her blood ran cold as he released her. His words meant one thing and one thing only. He was going to kill them. Nasuada had been so certain that even in the worst of situations, they would only serve to be Galbatorix's captors. She had been certain that their value to Galbatorix would keep them from death. That was the flaw in her thinking. They were only valuable to Galbatorix to his followers they were those who disrupted their lives, those who invaded their homes and wrought terror in their hearts. Galbatorix may have trusted in the oaths of loyalty sworn to him to keep Eragon and Arya out of danger. But he had overlooked Faust and his crazed intent to see the world burn.

"For the past several years I was irked Arya," Faust continued his expression appearing sincerely troubled. She watched him praying that Eragon would remain asleep. If he woke and saw the man before he could get a better understanding of their situation he would undoubtedly do himself harm if he let himself be blinded in his fit of rage. "Irked by the man beside you. He had eluded my grasp. My most successful subject! For a year I tried to break him. Tortures above tortures and yet he did not break like those weak orphans did." She wanted to kill the man or injure him to the point that he would stop the spew of words coming from his mouth. He spoke so lightly of Eragon's pain and the children's death that it made her ill with rage. "You see, it was a game I invented: how long can Eragon endure? Endured he did. After every experiment, after every torture I could bring down upon his head he still did not break. A normal man would have gone crazy, would have been reduced to nothing but a pile of bones and flesh begging for release."

"Resilient he was and I found a challenge in that. For how could but a child stand up to the practices of a magician as great as myself? So I strove to find a method to break him, to make him bend to my will and I found it in his anger and rage. If I could not make him bend to pain, he was certainly pliable to anger. In that anger, I saw it a way to break him. However," he sounded greatly disappointed, "Galbatorix took away my experiment for his own purposes. He built him up and buried the progress I made with Eragon. For years I sought to find another that could take his place but they easily crumbled before me unable to withstand the slightest touch. Their will was weaker than the dirt beneath my feet!"

He sounded angry and she watched him as he turned to her, his earlier calm expression replaced with one of utter indignation as if it were the children's fault for being weak and defenseless. This man—this _monster_—was Eragon's captor for a year? It now made sense why Eragon hated Faust to such an extent, why he lost to his inhuman rage and sought to destroy the man. "And now here he is delivered to me. I cannot express my gratitude enough Arya. For that I shall make sure that no harm will come to you at least not by my hands," at her stare he smiled, "You see, in order to repay the priests of Helgrind for successfully capturing the two of you. I was asked to offer you both up to their gods, the Ra'zac. They are very angry at the loss of their gods by Murtagh and it is only fit that they deliver their punishment unto both of you seeing as the three of you are practically family."

He reached forward and gripped her chin smiling, "Of course that shall be done after I am through with you both." She stared at him willing herself not to avert her gaze from his blood hungry silver eyes. If Eragon did not bend to him when he was younger, he certainly was not going to give way now. "There was a missing piece of the formula all those years ago Arya."

Faust's grin widened as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her neck just above her pulse point. Every fiber in her being wanted to shy away from him but he held onto her tight as he leaned back to stare at her in apparent pleasure at her unwillingness to give into him and his threats. "You see, Eragon only relied on himself when he was younger. Now that he has given you his entire essence, it will make my enjoyment all the easier to reach. How fast do you think he will break Arya when you are taken away from him?"

He leaned forward and latched his lips onto her neck once more and she fought to throw him up but his hands came up to grip her sides and despite his appearance, Faust was strong. Pain erupted through her neck as she felt his teeth pierce her skin. Satisfied, he drew back his lips and chin coated with her blood. "I enjoy the taste of your blood Arya," he smiled showing his red smeared teeth. "And I shall enjoy watching as your blood breaks your mate."

With that said he stroked her cheek as if she were some prized possession before turning and strolling out from the ring and leaving from where he came, closing the door behind him. The moment he left, she allowed herself to hang from the chains in defeat allowing his words to wash over her. That man…He would not leave until he saw Eragon broken beyond repair. And he was going to use her to do it. Her anguish was so great she thought she was going to choke from it. Closing her eyes, she refused to let her tears come forth.

They were helpless with no one to save them.

Angela was captured or slain, and Solembum most likely lying hurt somewhere in the underground maze, if the black-clad warriors had not already killed the werecat. They were at the mercy of their enemies she and Eragon with no chance of escape. Despair. In that word she found herself trying desperately to hold onto hope. When she heard the sounds of chains clinking together that was not her own. She turned her head and was both glad and relieved to see Eragon waking.

He lifted his head and she could tell from the way he did so that his neck was sore. She watched as the awareness came into his brown eyes. She saw her own movements earlier repeated in Eragon as he tried to twist himself free. In doing so, he caught sight of her brown eyes meeting emerald ones. Relief like swept through her. To know that Eragon was awake to share in her silence made her guilty but she knew he would never hold it against her.

She watched intently as he struggled with the chains bounding his wrist and saw his brows furrowing knowing that he was going to try a spell. Shaking her chains to rattle them against each other, Arya shook her head at him as she tried to convey to him that it was impossible and he would only serve to further hurt himself. The sound of her muffle voice mixed with the rattling of chains filled the chamber.

If only she could reach out to him with her mind but she was unable to due to the indistinct pressure surrounding her, as if bales of wool were packed around her mind. Instead she struggled to focus on their bond which remained untouched by the magic that held them willing him to understand that magic was useless. After a moment, he relaxed and turned to her his brown eyes shining with his own sense of helplessness as he realized just how impossible their situation was.

Relaxing her wrists she just turned her head to stare at him watching as his eyes roved over her as if to see if she was hurt. She watched as they flicked upwards to her wrists due to a stir of motion above them. She felt the lines of blood running down her forearms from where the manacles around her wrists had scraped away the skin as she watched Eragon's eyes widen. Shifting her head to tell him that it was fine, she made the mistake of doing so for his eyes immediately traveled to her neck where she felt the blood from Faust's bite drip down the skin.

Immediately a rage settled over Eragon and she watched helpless to calm him as he tried to yank himself free from the chains that bound him with a muted growl. He pulled at the links which did not budge and she could see his muscles straining in his arms as he did so. But he refused to give up. In a frenzy of anger, he pulled on it again and again, without regard for the harm he was causing himself. Watching him in such a rage just at the sight of her blood made her blood run cold. It seemed as if Faust understood Eragon deeply. She could only imagine what it was that Faust planned for them and was afraid. He was going to toy with them until death came—until they were grateful for its release.

A yell from Eragon drew her attention and she turned to him watching as his body twitched in agony and knew that in his anger he had forgotten her warning not to use magic. The pain lasted for a few seconds before he hung limply, his chest heaving and his pupils dilated from the pain and rage. Concern flooded her as she took in his form. His earlier tugging had caused the manacles to eat away at the skin on his wrists releasing blood from the wound and allowing the red liquid to drip onto the back of his neck and shoulders.

She longed to reach out and heal him but their magic was bound and even the magic from their bond was unable to act as it usually did when either one of them was injured. He lifted his head and turned to stare at her, his brown eyes burning. In them she saw the determination—the strong will—to survive. It was the strength that Faust had spoke of in Eragon and she understood then that Eragon would not admit defeat. It made her proud but it made her want to scold him and his recklessness as she watched him continually tug at his chains despite the blood that kept pouring from his wrists.

Eventually when she rattled her own chains at him to catch his attention, she shook her head at him willing him to feel her pain at watching him doing himself harm. After a long moment of staring into each other's eyes, he nodded and relaxed his hands. Though her wrists were still bleeding, Eragon's were bleeding profusely. How long were they going to hang there?

She watched as drop by drop, his blood fell on his own skin coating it red. She was glad that his sores crusted over to prevent anymore blood loss. The only comfort they had in the silence was the depths of their eyes. How many times have she looked into Eragon's eyes since she'd first met him? How many times had she seen a tremendous amount of emotions come and go, the strongest and greatest ones reserved for her. Brown eyes that reminded her of the warmth of the earth. Brown eyes that always met green. She blinked slowly at him once trying to tell him, trying to let him feel how much he meant to her in this moment that could be their last.

She had lived for a century. She wasn't foolish when she saw impossibility staring at her right in the face. But she was not a coward to simply give up and die. However, she wanted to tell Eragon beforehand in case anything happened to them. She wanted him to know the depths of her feelings and how much it meant to her to have him by her side, enduring this hopeless torture. She was not alone and in that thought it gave her much strength.

Eragon blinked slowly in return and gave a slight shake of his head showing his stubbornness once more. And even in the gloom that they were trapped in, she couldn't help but feel a slight tenderness that wound its way up through her and if she could smile she would have then. He was always so stubborn and she could tell from his expression and his adamant determination warming her heart that he was not going to let them die. Not without a fight. It was a quality in Eragon that she loved. When she had first met him, he had always been ready to give away to fate and be swept along with everything else. It had changed though and soon, his life was a bright and vibrant presence in hers in which he refused to give in. In which he would continue to fight until there was not an ounce left in him to go on. It was the human in him that drove him to hope when there was despair.

And for that she was grateful.

Enduring in the torture together, she heard the door open once more and felt her heart constrict at the sight of familiar white robes as Faust appeared once more. He took one glance at Eragon and was immediately overjoyed at the sight of him awake. "Eragon, it has been too long," said Faust smiling as he walked up to Eragon where he hung, he reached out as if to hug him but thought better of it. Instead he just chuckled. "Ah, what a lovely situation fate has found us in. Do be reunited once more and underneath the citadel of Dras-Leona as well! I shall tell you Eragon that I always thought it fit that you should been chained here. At last, my vision has come to realization."

She saw the expression on Eragon's face twist and his eyes narrowed as he tugged on his chains once more as if trying to reach for the man. She saw the crusted sores on his wrist open and blood flowed once more from his open wounds. Faust merely smiled at Eragon as if he was doing exactly what it was that he wanted. "How do you like my welcome Eragon? I admit this is pour treatment compared to the cell that was your home under my care. I had tried to bargain with the high priest of Helgrind and he insisted that these are the best accommodations he could provide for you and your companion."

He was mocking Eragon to taunt his anger and Eragon all but bit the bait. His brown eyes were dark with hatred, pure and untainted. If looks could kill thought Arya as she stared at Eragon, he would have certainly ended the pulse that was Faust's life. "Now, now Eragon there's no need to look so angry. A rather poor greeting if I ever saw one." Faust smiled as he took a step closer to Eragon he reached up his thumb hovering over Eragon's right eye and Arya remember with a flash of anger that Faust had been the one to hold the carving knife that gouged out Eragon's right eye. She wanted to reach out and stop Faust as he pushed his thumb into Eragon's right eye. Instantly a great well of fear that was Eragon's erupted in her as he thought of the memory of his right eye being carved out by Faust.

She watched as Eragon's arms twitched and the expression on Faust grew into one of expectations. He pulled away leaving behind a slightly trembling Eragon covered in his own blood and now with sweat beading on his face. "I heard word that you managed to overcome Asura. While I would like to extend my congratulations for such a feat I would like to focus on something much more…appealing."

He turned and walked away from Eragon and made to stand before her again and he did so his presence dangerously close to where she hung. "Would you not introduce this lovely young woman to me Eragon?" he asked. Eragon had twisted his head to follow Faust and she could see the terror in his eyes as his mind went spinning to think of what Faust might do next. He grunt something and Faust merely shook his head as he shook his head. "I believe her name is Arya Dröttningu? Your mate, if my sources are correct." He reached up to caress her cheek. "Ah such beauty. To think it is wasted on you my dear boy."

She heard the rattling of chains and the fevered grunts as Eragon struggled endlessly against his restraints. She turned her head to him to see his brown eyes were wide. She blinked at him feeling his desperation mirrored off of her own. "Fair skin, beautiful eyes, luscious ebony tresses. I can only assume that the two of you had your fair share of pleasure." _Don't. _

It was a silent plead in her mind that she did not even give thought to but she heard it reverberate through her entire being as she stared at Eragon watching as he struggled trying to reach her. "There is no need to deny it Eragon, I can smell your scent on her. You really do know how to mark her as your mate."

_Don't. _The plead was repeated in her mind and she felt two sides of her struggling. She wanted to fight against him but she only knew that would serve to no end. Another part of her want Faust to stop. It hurt to be humiliated to such a degree but to have Eragon subjected to her helplessness made it even worst. _Don't break him. _

But he did not hear her silent plead, instead he reached up with his hand to shift her hair to the side facing away from Eragon. "I may like to experiment with magic but I cannot deny the needs that a man has Eragon. Now, let us see how long it will take for you to break when the woman you love is being subjected to a torture that rightfully belongs to you." She blinked when she felt Faust's lips on her neck and he bit her once more. There was no pleasure only pain, disgust, and revulsion.

_Stop. _

She wanted to squirm and thrash against Faust but she only lifted her head to stare at the enraged brown eyes that belonged to Eragon. Could he feel how sorry she was to him? How her despair gripped her threatening to break her as well? She feebly felt her arms tug at her chains as instinct drove her to try and break free from Faust—to break free from the man that was not her mate. But the moment she moved back she felt his teeth piece her skin once more and pain erupted in her neck as he drew back his lips once more coated in her blood.

The rattling of Eragon's chains drew her attention and she turned to see him yanking his chains desperately. The blood continued to pour down his arms as he ignored his wounds. Shaking his head, Faust murmured something and Arya watched as he healed the wound on Eragon's wrist. "It will not be entertaining for me if you collapsed from your wounds Eragon. Do not worry Eragon, I prefer a different taste to what men usually prefer. The taste of blood."

Slowly the rag tied about her head was loosened and it fell to the ground and she felt her eyes widen when the gag was pulled from her mouth. The moment her chest instinctively inhaled, she tasted her own blood on her lips and nearly gagged from revulsion. Her hands tightened into fists from where they were bound and she felt as if her entire being was being dragged across a muck filled road. Never before had she felt so tainted. She felt his hands on her and was helpless to do anything but _endure. _Unable to stare at Eragon in the eyes as she heard his muffled shouts and his insistent rattling of chains she tried to pull away from Faust but his hand came up to hold her face in place as the other continued to roam in full view of Eragon. Her neck, shoulders, breast, stomach, and hip was all touched. Even if she was clothed it felt horrible wrong. It felt like a betrayal. Then she felt his hand shift moving to rest on her legs which were held in place about the ankles. The fingers trailed up, gliding over her leather clad knee, up her thigh, dangerously close to her.

_Please…don't look Eragon. _

Unable to help herself. Unable to face the revulsion and the taint that Faust's action caused she closed her eyes tightly refusing to see as a rebellious tear escaped her eyes and that was when something inside her snapped. It was not her emotion though. Her eyes flying open as a great amount of energy was released about the room she heard a scream of agony. Faust had immediately stopped his actions pulling away from her. Eragon was no longer himself.

She watched in horror as he struggled against the chains, silently snarling and his hand looked close to becoming useless due to the pressure his was causing it. Finding her voice, she called out to him. "Eragon!" she called to him desperately. But he did not answer her. He was lost to his anger and rage, she felt that within her and it hurt slightly how great his emotions were.

Letting out a booming laughter, Faust smiled immediately leaving her side. She watched as he reached into his pocket drawing out something small and silver. It flashed in his hand as he spoke to Eragon. "Let your rage take you Eragon! To think that after all these years a mere woman could break you so easily! And now I shall impart on you one last gift before I give the high priest of Helgrind leave to do as they please."

Despite all of his struggling and thrashing, Eragon was powerless to defend himself against Faust and she watched twisting in horror to him, her mouth opening in a soundless cry as Faust stabbed him in his left eye repeating the same process he did to his right one years ago. Rage like never before pulsed through her as she heard the squelch and saw the silver being withdrawn coated in blood. Despite the gag, Eragon's scream of agony was clear and she saw his body go limp as Faust stood back as if to admire his work.

The only sound left in the room was Faust's heavy breathing of delight and the sound of Eragon's blood spilling onto the pattern disk beneath them. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest and she was positive that they could hear it. Tossing the knife to the side, Faust turned to her.

"And so the man that was Eragon shatters," he said softly as he walked over to her. "I must thank you Arya for being the piece of finally cause him to break. Now all that he will think is of death for surely what else could be waiting for him? Let him beg for death's release for life holds no meaning to him now anymore."

She stared at Faust, her eyes narrowing and she felt the tightness in her heart spread to her chest creeping up her neck and pulling at her eyes. Her voice trembled when she spoke. It trembled with her anger. "Are you satisfied? Does it really make you so joyous to see him like that?"

Faust merely smiled lifting up a hand to trace down her cheek. She glared at him unable to do so due to his earlier actions. "You and I are inherently different Arya. While you fight off your inner demons. I embrace mine." His smiled widened as he bent down to pick up the gag and rag. Forcing her mouth open, he roughly shoved the gag back in and leaned forward to rewrap the rag about her head. "As I promised I shall not harm you and shall leave the two of you here to face the priests of Helgrind."

With that he left without taking one last look at Eragon's prone figure and the blood that continued to pile onto the ground. As the door closed behind him, she felt her anguish burst forth and unable to help herself she felt thick tears roll down her face as she was tortured with the sound of Eragon's blood splattering against the ground. Even though Faust claimed that Eragon would beg for death's release, she found her mind crumbling about her as thoughts began to swim forth taking form the longer she stared at Eragon's unconscious body.

_Please…_her thoughts silently begged someone. Anyone. _Stop. _

Arya was unsure of what she was asking anymore but she wanted a way out of this situation. She wanted it to stop. Another tear escaped her eyes as she watched another red drop of blood fall from Eragon's chin. She could not see his face since his head was bowed forward and she knew that the moment she did. She would lose her resolve and give into the rage that overtook him earlier.

_Drip…_

_Please…stop…_

**This chapter despite the graphic violence and desperation in it has an emotional depth to it which I'm sure most of you realized. The reason why Eragon is so easily broken is because he had rarely faced a situation in which he had to witness the torture of someone else. The Eragon in this story is adaptable to torture and can withstand it since at a young age he'd been subjected to it. But after having grown as a character, he understands the meaning of watching a loved one hurt and while Arya was not hurt physically, she was hurt mentally and seeing her in a state breaks him. Obviously it breaks Arya as well and soon enough they find themselves wholly in despair. I also hope that this chapter gives you an insight on Faust. He is independent and has an obsession with Eragon that stems from his failures to make Eragon give into despair when he was younger. Apart from all this there are a few other things that I hope you all realized when reading this chapter that speaks volumes about Eragon's and Arya's character. It is graphic and speaks to the 'M' rating of this story. Hopefully everyone sees the despair that grows in Arya which is something we rarely see in the original. Anyways, await the next chapter and Angela's return everyone! See you soon! **


	86. Chapter 82

Chapter 82

**Standard Disclaimer: There are some parts from "To Feed a God" and "Infidels on the Loose". I do not own anything related to the Inheritance Cycle. That's all on CP. Now to address some reviews. No, Faust did not stick another soul into Eragon. He was merely trying to open an old wound and evening out things since he stabbed Eragon's right eye years ago. Now, the last chapter some of you did not like but as I've said it was important as part of this story. Also, Faust's character is supposed to represent obsession or the feelings of obsession whether it is with his principals or whatever. Apart from that I have nothing else to say. R&R. **

Time passed by as they hung there and the only thing that sounded through the chamber was the occasional drip of blood that hit the ground. Worried beyond belief for Eragon, she hung there helpless to ease his pain. It had been some time since Faust had left and she was unsure of whether or not he could recover from his injury to face the onslaught from the priests of Helgrind. Oftentimes she thought that he would wake for his body would twitch but despite that he remained unconscious and was only stirring when a clang of iron bells from somewhere in the tunnels and passageways sounded.

There was a muffled groan in Eragon's direction as he tiredly lifted his head. He was fighting to stay conscious, she could tell by the expression on his face and the gleam in his right eye, his left hidden to her from her position. Her sense of relief was drowned out when the doors on either side of the black altar swung open on silent hinges. Arya's muscles tensed as she fixed her eyes on the opening, as did Eragon with his one good eye.

A seemingly endless minute passed.

With a brash, jarring toll, the bells sounded again, filling the chamber with a swarm of angry echoes. Through the doorways marched three novitiates: young men garbed in golden cloth, each carrying a metal frame hung with bells. Behind them followed twenty-four men and women, not one of whom possessed a whole body. She felt a twinge of disgust well up within her as she took in their missing limbs. Unlike their predecessors, the cripples wore robes of dark leather, tailored to match their individual infirmities. And last of all, six oiled slaves carried in a bier, upon which, propped upright, rested an armless, legless, toothless, seemingly sexless figure: the High Priest of Helgrind. From its head rose a three-foot-high crest, which only made the creature appear even more misshapen.

The extent faith in a religion had on one's body was abhorrent in this cult.

The priests and novitiates positioned themselves around the edge of the patterned disk on the floor, while the slaves gently lowered the bier onto the alter at the head of the room. Then the three perfect, handsome young men shook the bells once more, creating a discordant crash, and the leather-clad priests chanted a short phrase so quickly that Arya was not sure what they said, they she assumed it could only be a ritual of theirs.

The High Priest gazed at her and Eragon with eyes like chips of obsidian. "Welcome to the halls of Tosk," it said, and its withered mouth distorted the words. Arya merely stared at the thing. Faust had already welcomed them and she could only guess as to how these people would as well. "It has been some time since you have last been in our presence Dragon Rider. Twice now you and your brother have invaded our inner sanctums. You shall not have the opportunity to do so again…Galbatorix would have us spare your lives and send you to Urû'baen. He believes he can force you to serve him. He had failed before and he shall fail again." Its beady eyes traveled to Eragon, who was doing his utmost to remain conscious despite the loss of blood and the injury to his eye. "You are too dangerous and we do not want to see the dragons resurgent. It is commonly believed that we worship Helgrind. That is a lie we tell others to conceal the true nature of our religion. It is not Helgrind that we revere—it is the Old Ones who made their laid within and to whom we sacrificed our flesh and blood. The Ra'zac are our gods, Dragon Riders—the Ra'zac and the Lethrblaka."

Arya was not surprised and she could tell from the expression in Eragon's face or the lack thereof that he already knew this information. However, she could not stop the dread that crept through her as she waited for the High Priest to continue. From the way he started out, he was already unforgiving. She could only imagine how he would end.

The High Priest spat at Eragon, and spittle drooled from its slack lower lip. "There is no torture horrible enough for your crime, Rider. You may not have killed our gods but your brother did, him and his accursed dragon. For that crime, you shall have to atone for your brother's sins. You must die."

There was a rattle of chains as Eragon pulled himself up to glare at the priest, his earlier anger returning to him. She felt it in her and watched as he turned his head slightly, revealing his injured left eye. It was like a blow to her stomach as she took in the mangled flesh and the trail of blood, as if he were crying red. Never before had such a rage overtook her. It was iron hot and flashing through her body. She felt her fingers curled and fought to control herself.

In a hideous gesture, the High Priest smiled, showing its gray gums. "You will never escape. The crystals here were enchanted to trap any who might try to desecrate our temple or steal our treasures, even ones such as you. Nor is there anyone to rescue you. Today is the day of your doom, _Shadeslayers." _Then the High Priest tilted back its head and uttered a gruesome, gurgling whistle.

From the dark doorway to the left of the altar, there appeared four bare-chested slaves. One their shoulders, they bore a platform with two large shallow, cuplike protrusions in the middle. Within the protrusions lay a pair of oval eggs—black and blue and pitted like sandstone. Instantly alarm shot through her as her mind made the connection as to the purpose of the eggs.

"Since your brother killed the Old Ones," said the High Priest, "It is only fitting that you provide the food for their rebirth. You shall be the ones to give them strength so that they will deliver a fit punishment to Murtagh. We are their faithful servants, and they our masters cruel and implacable: the three-faced god—the hunters of men, the eaters of flesh, and the drinkers of blood. To them, we offer up our bodies in hope of revelation into the mysteries of this life and in hope of absolution for our transgressions. As Tosk wrote, so shall it be."

In unison, the leather clad priests repeated: "As Tosk wrote, so shall it be."

As the High Priest spoke, the four slaves bearing the platform walked forth and carefully lowered it from their shoulders onto the patterned disk, setting it down several paces in front of Eragon and Arya. Once they finished, they bowed their heads and retreated through the doorway from which they had come.

"Who could ask for anything more than to feed a god with the marrow of their bone?" asked the High Priest. "Rejoice, both of you, for today you receive the blessing of the Old Ones, and by your sacrifice, the record of your sins shall be washed clean and you shall enter the afterlife as pure as a newly born child."

Then the High Priest and its followers raised their faces toward the ceiling and began to intone a strange, oddly accented song. When they were done there was another chorus of "As Tosk wrote, so shall it be," then the three novitiates shook the bells in the wake of a religious fervor and led the congregation back where they had come. The door closed behind them with an ominous _boom, _and Arya heard a heavy bar fall into place on the other side.

The moment the door closed shut, she heard a rattling beside her and turned to find Eragon struggling against the chains. He paused for a moment realizing that she was staring at him and his eye met her. There was an expression of despair that shone in the brown iris that was no doubt a mirror of her own. He had no more idea of how to escape than she did. But there was a hint of determination, a refusal to just surrender. It was that small spark that ignited her own will. It brought out the human in her.

What need was there for grace and dignity in defeat? Her instinct to survive won out. She was not going to die here being fed to monsters. All of her life, she had lived without the consummation of meat and she was not going to be mocked in such a way. Especially not in death. If she died here and now such a cruel and hideous death she would never be able to face her father who had died so valiantly against Galbatorix and his Forsworn. And her mother would be anguished thinking that all along, Arya should have stayed in the protection of Du Weldenvarden not capable of surviving on her own. The thought of shaming and disgracing her parents was unbearable and it made her thrash against her chains, which refused to budge.

Feeling her cool blood drip down her forearms, she paused, breathing through her nose heavily. Eragon had stopped trying to free himself which made her worry. Eyes darting over to him, she saw a look of deep contemplation on his face. Then silence in the chamber was then broken.

In front of them, the leftmost egg began to rock back and forth ever so slightly, and from it came a faint tapping, like the rapping of a tiny hammer. A profound sense of horror suffused Arya. Their deaths were just mere minutes away. Unable to let the thought of being eaten alive take the best of her, she thought frantically. There was no time to waste. Beside her, she saw Eragon's head upturned studying the manacles around his wrist. Her eyes followed his gaze as she too studied his hands which were chaffed raw and bleeding. She saw his thumb twitch.

Realization flooded her as she saw another twitch of his thumb. He was planning on breaking his hand to slide them free from the manacles. Her eyes roved over his hands and the manacles that clamped them. No, his hands were too large. Even if he did break his thumb and fingers to drag his hand free, it would be pointless for it would not fit through. Her eyes wandered up to her own hands. They were small enough to slide through the manacles. Knowing what was left to her, she took in a deep breath. What was the use of a hand when she was dead? The pain would be agonizing to bear but only for a few moments. She had to save them from the painful death that awaited them and she would do it without hesitation. Closing her eyes, she stared on her right hand. Then with sheer force of will, she snapped the bones in her right hand pushing them together and up like a glove, her skin stretching and breaking.

Pain like no other flooded through her and though she tried to stop herself a scream tore through her throat, the gag only doing so much to muffle it. Dazed from the pain, she sagged where she hung and her eyes flashed threatening to take her deep into a dark abyss. _No, _she blinked recovering trying to ignore the flashing pain in her hand that traveled through her arm and spread about her body. She pulled on her right arm. Like she had thought, her hand slid from the metal cuff and she felt it tear at her skin and flesh. Letting it fall to her side, she hid it from sight behind her body knowing that it would only serve to pain Eragon if he saw.

Unable to hear him through the tremendous amount of pain that she felt, she paused feeling the anguish that was not hers. Keeping her eyes away from Eragon in case she might falter, she braced herself to repeat the process with her left hand knowing that the resulting pain could very well incapacitate her. Ignoring the flow of blood that was beginning to puddle underneath her, Arya took in another deep breath through her nose. _We will not die today. _

The moment she prepared to break the bones, the door to the right of the altar opened, and one of the golden-robed novitiates slipped into the chamber. Seeing him, Arya hesitated. What could the young man possibly want? Prepared to pulled her left hand out of the manacle at the slightest hint of danger, she waited.

The young man glanced at her, then cautiously made his way to the center of the patterned disk, casting apprehensive glances at the egg that was rocking back and forth. It was obvious that he was given his position from his appearance she thought her mind trying its best to remain in focus despite the thick layer of pain that threatened to encompass it.

"Here," whispered the youth. "I brought these." From within his robes, he produced a file, a chisel, and a wooden mallet. "If I help, you have to take me with you. I can't stand it here any longer. I hate it. It's horrible! Promise you'll take me with you!"

In any normal event, Arya might have inwardly sighed and thought how aggravating it would be to hear such a request but this was a life-and-death matter. She did not see what it was that Eragon did but the youth started forward towards him. There was a low, deadly growl and the young man changed tracks and made it over to her. Even then, he was still thinking of her safety.

Glad to have a reason not to pull her left hand out, she allowed the novitiate to work on the links of the chain that held her up. Trying to remain conscious, she blinked against the drowsiness that was creeping up through her body. When she thought she would succumb to it, the pain in her right hand would cause her to jerk back awake, trembling as it reminded her that she had no time to waste and sleep.

She could hear the harsh scraping of the file above her but could not lift her head up to see if there was any progress on the metal.

A sharp _crack _echoed through the chamber. She lifted her head slightly to see a thin fissure appear at the top of the dark, pitted egg. The fissure lengthened, and a web of hairline fractures spread outward from it.

Then, the second egg began to wobble as well, and from it came another _tap-tap-tap_ping, which joined with the first to form a maddening rhythm.

Her pain made her slow to react even the oncoming terror could not match the burning ache in her body. She heard the file drop and could feel the novitiate backing away from her. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry. It's too late," his voice washed over her ears and she tried to make her body respond, to pull her left hand free but the pain made movement near impossible. The only thing she could was turn her eyes to follow the novitiate as the young man pulled a dagger from his robes. Alarm shot through her and once more the fresh pain in her right hand made her slow to react. She wanted to call out to the young man—to tell him to use his dagger to kill the Ra'zac before it had a chance to hatch. The only thing she could accomplish was a slight gurgle in her throat staunched out by another tremble that racked her body.

"There's nothing else I can do," he said seemingly speaking more to himself then to them. "Nothing else…" He sniffed and moved towards Eragon. "It's for the best. I'm sorry." He stopped in front of Eragon and drew back the dagger. Instantly, Arya felt as if something inside her broke as she watched, trying to twist towards them, trying to move her right hand which was in no state to respond to her commands. Her fear of seeing Eragon struck by the youth's dagger joined in with her pain and she was nearly drowned in her emotions.

Before the novitiate could bring the dagger forth, a chunk of glittering amethyst hurtled out of the tunnel that had brought Arya and Eragon to the chamber. It struck the novitiate in the back of the head, and he fell against Eragon. She saw him flinch as the edge of the dagger slid across his ribs, drawing a fine cut across his skin. Then the young man tumbled to the floor and lay there, unconscious.

Her eyes strained at the entrance of the tunnel watching as a small, limping figure emerged. The figure moved into the light and she felt relief crash through her at the sight of Solembum. The werecat was in his human form, several cuts adorning his forearms, his ear drooping from the side of his head, and a strip of skin missing. Otherwise he did not seem greatly injured.

And following a few paces behind the werecat was the herbalist, Angela.

Never before had she felt so relieved to see the herbalist. All past thoughts of uncomfortable teasing by the witch was forgotten by Arya for she knew now without a doubt that they were saved. Angela would know how to free them.

"What an idiot," proclaimed Angela as she hurried to the edge of the pattern disk on the floor. Apart from the cuts and scratches and her bloodied clothes—which Arya suspected was the witch's—she appeared unharmed. "All he had to do was—_this!" _

And she swung her sword with its transparent blade up and over her head, and brought the pommel down against one of the amethysts that ringed the disk. The crystal shattered with an odd _snap. _The light it emitted flickered and went out but the other crystals maintained their radiance.

Without pause, Angela stepped to the next piece of amethyst and broke it as well, then the one after it, and so on. Glad, immensely glad that Angela had come to their rescue, she let herself sag where she hung not having the strength to keep herself up due to the pain that still traveled through her. She wasn't even sure she had it in her to fight after they were freed. Her eyes ready to slip close, she paused when a fungus like smell pervaded the chamber followed by a screech.

Lifting her head, she watched as the newly hatched Ra'zac stirred and got to its feet, its grotesque form illuminated oddly against the glow of the amethyst. It tilted its heads and chattered as if it had just discovered something exciting. Then it took a tentative step towards her…and another…and then, another, its beak parting as it strained toward the pool of blood by her feet.

She should feel fear but none came to her as she stared down at the hungry creature. Angela would not let her be eaten alive. She had some faith in that thought.

"_Now!" _exclaimed Angela, and she broke the last of the crystals.

Even as the shards of amethyst skittered across the floor, Solembum leaped toward the Ra'zac. The werecat's form blurred in midair and he landed on all fours, his body once more that of an animal. Tiredly blinking her eyes closed, she heard a _crack _and opened them once more to see the Ra'zac fly across the room, landing in a twisted heap, where it lay twitching for several seconds. Solembum hissed before he went over to sit and wait by the other egg.

"What _have _you done to yourself?" said Angela as she hurried over to Arya. Arya wearily lifted her head, but she made no attempt to answer. Thankfully the herbalist did not push her. With three swift strokes of her colorless blade, the herbalist sliced through Arya's remaining cuffs, as if the tempered metal were no harder than cheese. With the support gone, Arya fell to her knees and doubled over, pressing her injured hand against her stomach. With her left hand, she tore at her gag.

Tossing the cloth aside, she doubled over at the fresh pain as she jolted her right arm. She glanced down at what was once her hand watching as a cloud of blue had already surrounded the wound, trying to heal the extensive damage that was done. Reaching for her magic, her mind now cleared due to the destruction of the amethyst crystals which had staunched their magic while they were imprisoned. Instantly she began to chant spells of binding and healing.

While she was mending her damage on her hand she heard Angela's voice as she spoke to Eragon, "Well aren't you a sight of sore eyes," in any other circumstance, Arya would have said something against her words but did not break from her incantation.

"I could say the same for you," Eragon replied meaning that he was freed from where he hung.

"Move your hand Eragon," Angela ordered and she heard the herbalist hurriedly whisper words of mending. After a strained minute Angela stopped speaking and she heard Eragon stand from where she was kneeling still healing her right hand. His footsteps sounded in the silence.

There was the sound of flames coming to life and a horrible screech sounded as the second Ra'zac was burned alive in its own egg. Feeling satisfied at Eragon's actions, she paused having finally finished healing her hand. However, there was one patch where she could not feel by the base of her thumb. Otherwise it was fully healed and the earlier burning flame she felt subsided, now a dull ache in her hand and arm. Closing her eyes as she finally let the relief of being saved flood through her, she blinked when she felt strong arms on her shoulders.

Not having the strength to resist and nor did she want to, Arya gladly went into Eragon's embrace her right hand curled against her side. They were kneeling in the chamber that was once their death chamber but all she thought of at that moment was how alive they were—the both of them. Within his embrace, she heard Angela murmuring somewhere off to the side healing Solembum and was glad for this one moment of privacy with Eragon. He pulled away from her and she was glad to see two, tired but relieved brown orbs staring back at her. There was still a great mask of blood on the left side of his face but he appeared healed.

"Your eye…" whispered Arya reaching up with her right hand but she winced as the pain increased due to her irritating the newly healed limb.

He gave her a reassuring look and she could tell from his expression that he was glad that they were alive as well. His earlier pain was momentarily gone as they held each other and she knew the moment they let go he would be drawn away by his determination and rage. "Angela healed it. Though I cannot see well out of it yet, my vision is returning to me," he reached down and gripped her right hand softly. "Your hand?"

"It is healed though there is a patch of skin where I've seemed to lost any feeling to," said Arya honestly. There was a flash of anger in his eyes but he did not break away from her. Instead he shifted her hair to glance down at her healed neck. She remembered with a jolt what it was the Faust had done and though he had not gone far apart from forcefully kissing and grabbing her, she still felt disgusted with herself. Unable to help it, Arya averted her eyes away from Eragon.

She felt his hand on her chin and he slowly turned her back to face him, his expression hard set. Then without giving a care about where they were or the fact that Angela—the person whom teased them the most about their affections—was standing a few feet away, he tilted his head and kissed her. It had incited a burst of emotions in her. Having hung at the mercy of others and being punished by Faust and then by the priests of Helgrind, she had grown accustomed to the cold and terror. To the idea of dying in the worst ways possible by the side of the man whom she came to love dearly.

She had thought she had broke. She had thought Eragon had broke.

But in his kiss with his tongue desperately searching against hers, she knew that wasn't so. They weren't dead yet thought Arya determinedly as she reached up with her left hand to wrap her arm around his neck leaning up into him. At this moment, she could care less about Angela's presence and would gladly put up with the witch's taunts and innuendos that came with her teasing. Trying to burrow into his warmth to fend off the coldness of the chamber about them, Arya could hear the exasperation in Angela's voice a few feet away.

"Is this really the moment?" she heard the herbalist say in a somewhat exasperated and weak voice as if she was having trouble watching them desperately cling to each other. Who would have thought that two of the strongest people amongst the Varden—Dragon Riders and Shadeslayers—were forced to their knees trying to find comfort in each other's embrace.

She felt his hands move, running over her body as if to reassure himself that she was there and that she was whole. _Do not cry, _Arya repeated to herself over and over as she stayed within his arms. She was not going to show her tears once more here. No, she would wait until they were free of the tunnels, free of Dras-Leona and alone together before she let herself go to her emotions. As she tilted her head to better compliment Eragon, she heard the tapping of impatient feet and felt a slight tinge of amusement rise up within her.

Of all the times Angela would practice tact it would be now she thought wryly as she finally pulled away in desperate need of air, giving Eragon's bottom lip one final tug. She felt his chest heave against hers as his lips feathered over her face then lifting his head from hers, he reached down and brought her right hand up to his lips and kissed the skin of it as well trying to ease the pain she felt.

"Honestly," Angela had finally burst. Arya still in Eragon's embrace glanced over at the herbalist who was red faced and glancing everywhere but them. Solembum sat by her feet, his yellow eyes trained on them and his head tilted to the side in apparent curiosity.

"Hmm? Are you embarrassed Angela?" asked Eragon as he paused his lips still pressing against her hand directly above the patch of skin that she could no longer feel any sort of sensation from. The herbalist bristled where she stood.

"Warm thanks that is from someone whom I saved," said Angela still not turning to them.

Arya shifted on her knees slightly. She leaned up to pressed a kiss against Eragon's left eye which he closed before pulling back. "You have our sincerest gratitude wise one," said Arya in the ancient language. She turned back to Eragon hoping her expression conveyed how she felt. He nodded and stood allowing her to use him to steady herself on her feet as she stood with him.

He kissed her hand once more, "Thank you Arya for what you did. I was going to try and break my own hand but it was too big." She nodded against him as he turned to Angela refusing to let Arya go. "We have to find our weapons."

Finally Angela turned to them she did not question nor point out how Arya was wrapped about in Eragon's strong arms but nodded. "We can't waste time searching every room in this warren. Once the priests realize you've escaped, we'll have the whole pack of them nipping at our heels."

Eragon growled, "Let them come. I have tired of running. Besides it will make matters much easier rather than having to route them out."

"As much as I would love to join you in your mission to bring justice down on these Bunglers, we have to attend to the gates. Nasuada and the Varden are waiting for us," Angela reminded him. She felt him want to resist and shook her head slightly. After a moment a breath left him before he agreed.

He pointed to the unconscious novitiate, "Maybe he can tell us where they took our things."

Dropping to a squat, Angela began to examine the novitiate trying to wake the youth with unsuccessful attempts. While she was doing so, Arya blinked when she felt a slight tremor run through Eragon. "What is it?" she asked quietly in the ancient language. He looked ashamed as he stared down at her.

"There was a moment when Faust stabbed me that I wished I were dead," said Eragon honestly. His grip on her tightened. "After seeing him do that do you, I couldn't control it. It was as if something in me snapped." She nodded remembering how it felt to her. "It was agonizing, watching and then having him stab my left eye out. It was worse than before and I never felt so helpless. So useless."

Whether or not Angela heard Arya did not know for she was busying herself with the novitiate. Her eyes were closed a frown on her face as she examined his mind. He continued staring down at her. "Then the High Priest came and I thought we were surely going to die the worst way possible and how much I regretted…nothing in particular but I just did." His expression softened as he leaned down to touch their foreheads together. "Then you injured your hand trying to find a way to escape…I swore then that I was not going to die here. Not like this. Nor would I let you be subjected to such a horrible fate. I won't run away Arya. Not after seeing your sacrifice."

"I was afraid he might have broke you," whispered Arya after a moment. "I am glad I was wrong."

His brown eyes flashed. "He did for a moment but you gave me strength Arya. You and your soul." She nodded and she knew it was true for her as well. Had they not been bonded. The tortures they went through would have felt colder and lonelier. "I know it sounds selfish…But I was glad to have you by my side…even if it was in death."

No it wasn't selfish at all because she felt the same way. "I was glad too," murmured Arya her guilt at feeling relieved to have Eragon by her side alleviated with his words. She stared up at him, feeling her eyes narrow. "We have to repay Faust, Eragon, for everything he has done."

"Yes," Eragon replied his expression dangerous. "There is no doubt about that."

He leaned down once more greedy to feel her after what they had been through and Arya was about to tilt her head back to meet him but a cry from Angela caused them to start. The witch had stood from her squatted position with a sudden speed.

"What a self-absorbed little wretch! No wonder his parents sent him to join the priests. I'm surprised they put up with him as long as they did."

"Does he know anything of use?" asked Arya as Eragon merely stared on disgruntled at the interruption.

"Only the path to the surface." Angela pointed toward the door to the left of the altar, the same door through which the priests had entered and departed. "It's amazing he tried to free you; I suspect it's the first time in his life he's ever done anything of his own accord."

Eragon sighed at Angela's words as if she had said something he rather not here. "I was planning on leaving the idiot here and at the mercy of the priests but after you said that I feel compelled to bring him with us."

"Even if he tried to kill you?" asked Angela with a roll of her eyes.

He shrugged. "He tried to save Arya. So we can say that it evens out."

Angela merely shook her wiry hair giving up on trying to dissuade Eragon from his words. He moved forward, pulling Arya with him as he did so. "I guess it was only his looks that took him so far in life," said Eragon with a frown.

"You aren't far off," said Angela.

Arya disengaged from Eragon as his frown deepened. She smiled at him faintly. "I shall carry him." _Since fighting will a little more difficult. _He nodded and before she could hoist the young man onto her shoulder, he kissed her once more causing a sound of annoyance to erupt behind him.

"Must you do this here? Once this is over Shadeslayer, you can fondle and lavish your attention on your mate all you want. Otherwise pay attention!" said Angela clearly annoyed. Eragon appeared amused at her annoyance. Arya raised a brow at him her lips curling upwards slightly before she reached down and hoisted the novitiate onto her shoulder without apparent effort.

"In any case, with Arya handling him," the herbalist said to Eragon, "you had best have this, since it seems you and I are to do most of the fighting." Eragon was not disappointed by her words. His eyes darted to her and she wanted to tell him that she was not an invalid but decided to indulge him. He flourish the transparent blade that Angela handed to him as she pulled out a poniard with a jeweled hilt from within her folds.

"Anything I should know about this sword before we leave?" asked Eragon with a raised brow. Arya eyed the sword as well not having seen an equal before and knowing Angela, she must have picked it up somewhere and taken to it due to either a special property it had or whatnot.

"A word of caution now that you ask," said the herbalist, "You must take great care when handling it. Never touch the edge of allow anything you cherish to come near it, else you will regret it. Likewise, never lean the sword against something you might need—your leg for example."

"Why?" asked Eragon suddenly wary as he eyed the edge of the blade.

"Because that is the sharpest blade in all over existence. No other sword or knife or ax can match the keenness of its edge, not even your swords. It is the ultimate embodiment of an incision-making instrument. It is the archetype of an inclined plane…You'll not fine its equal anywhere. It can cut through anything not protected by magic, and many things that are. Try it if you don't believe me."

"I will take your word for it," said Eragon not arguing with her like he usually did.

Angela appeared momentarily taken aback before she unbuckled the sword's scabbard and gave it to him. "Here. It's one of the few things you _can't _cut with that blade." He nodded taking it from her as he sheathed the blade holding it in his hand. Angela took one last look about the chamber trying to determine whether or not there was anything interesting left for her to study. "Now then, shall we be off?"

Shifting the man on her shoulder, Arya's eyes glanced back at the center of the patterned disk where they used to hang, her and Eragon. Her eyes traveled from the broken manacles, the cut chains, and the pools of blood on the ground. Barely a few moments earlier they were hanging, desperately trying to escape. Now, they were escaping.

Her eyes caught Eragon and she heard his words in her mind as she followed him.

_But I was glad to have you by my side…even if it was in death._

They had endured the worst together but it was different than their previous tortures for they had each other. They had endured and they had overcome it. Now it was time to continue on.

**And that's the difference. Though Faust believed that he could have used Arya to break Eragon the only way he could have done so was to have killed her. One of the biggest pet peeve I had in the original was that one reason that Arya possibly did not want to get together with Eragon was because of the fear that she might be a distraction to him. In this story, though it addresses the fact that Arya is indeed Eragon's weakness. She is also one of his greatest strengths which is why he did not truly break underneath Faust. These last few chapters is more of a growth of ExA apart from everything else that's happened. Anyways, that's all I wanted to say. I see the light at the end of the tunnel peoples! It's coming quick...anyways see you soon. **

**P.P.S-Please do not review about typos/mistakes. I've said before that I do not have a beta in the interest of updating for you readers. It may not seem like it but I like perfection and when someone mentions typos/mistakes I get out of whack. I may return to a Beta Reader but that would slow my updates down. Just saying peoples. I know there are imperfections in the chapters and if it really irks you I shall see to it that there is a Beta Reader. Otherwise just leave it unsaid, 'kay? **


	87. Chapter 83

Chapter 83

**And I am back everyone. I must say that I'm rather happy that I've finished this chapter. I had to borrow from CP's original works again. There are some things parts from 'Inheritance' in here. Anyways, this chapter would be the last to have any great details from the original. (Standard Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Inheritance Cycle.) Another day, another chapter everyone. Anyways I hope you all have fun reading. R&R. **

His grip on Angela's short sword, which he was told was called Albitr or in her eyes 'Tinkledeath' since it seemed to tinkle when the blade was tapped, tightened as Eragon opened the doorway before them. Through the doorway was a long, broad hallway lit by torches. And standing guard in two smart rows, one along each side of the hallway, were twenty of the black-garbed warriors who had ambushed them earlier.

Satisfaction welled up within him at the sight of them. Angela may have insisted that they hurried to the gates for the Varden but seeing as they were now going to be attacked, they would have no choice but to fight. Easily drawing Albitr from its sheath, he felt his adrenaline course through as they looked at Eragon, reaching for their weapons. _It's time I repay you all for what you did. _With that thought in mind, he was about to lunge forward for the nearest black-clad warrior but as he did so, a strange thing happened. Without so much as a single cry, the twenty men stiffened and fell to the floor dead, every last one of them. He paused in surprise as he stared at the now dead bodies, each having been stabbed through an eye, as neat as could be.

Seeing their eyes stabbed he subconsciously reached up to touch his left eye. It was still rather blurry but he was slowly able to focus on the things about him. Standing there lost in thought it was only when he heard Arya's uncertain voice did he return to himself. "Wise one," she said her voice tentative, "how did you manage to do this?"

Angela did _this? _He glanced at the dead warriors before them, all simultaneously killed and turned to Arya and Angela behind him. He beheld the herbalist as she stood braced against a wall, leaning on her knees and panting heavily. Her skin had gone deathly white, and her hands were shaking. Blood dripped from her poniard.

Not interested in what she had to say knowing that it was going to be a roundabout answer, Eragon crouched examining the death bodies until he found one that satisfied him. He stripped the man of his tunic, disgusted as he saw the mutilated flesh underneath and donned it as well as a padded jerkin. "In any case, it would be wise if you do not attempt that spell another time unless you want to be buried in this citadel with the rest of these monsters," said Eragon as he stood noticing that Angela was slowly regaining her normal complexion.

"You know Eragon, you are rather ungrateful," observed Angela with narrowed eyes.

Eragon merely shook his head, "I did not ask you to kill them. I was hoping that I could repay them for the favor." At his words Angela raised a brow. She straightened, her breathing beginning to even out and her trembling hands steadying.

"As flattering as it sounds to bring justice down on them for the wrong they wrought you and Arya, it was needed," she pointed to the dead warriors with a smile, "Besides, the saying is an eye for eye, correct? Well Shadeslayer, you have your eye. Rather you have twenty of them."

"My thanks to you but I am looking for—if we go along with your saying—a hand for a hand," said Eragon as he sheathed Albitr. At his words Angela laughed, amused.

"Feel free to take as many hands as you want. Even I shall give you a lending hand isn't that right Arya?" the herbalist turned to the wary elf. She glanced between him and Angela before shaking her head.

"Now is not the time for banters," she said shifting the novitiate on her shoulders. "We must hurry."

He stared at Angela for a moment longer and nodded turning and leading the way down the hall and through the archway at the far end. It unsettled him when they encountered no one else in the complex of rooms and corridors thereafter, nor did they find any sign of their stolen possessions. He was getting irritated as they traveled despite the relief that seemed to seep off of the others behind him at having yet to encounter any enemies.

Unlike the abandoned chambers they had seen before the ambush, those they passed through now were filled with tapestries, furniture, and strange devices made of brass and crystal, the purpose of which Eragon could not fathom.

Angela chose the path they took whenever there was more than one option, but Eragon remained in the lead, clutching Albitr in hand ready and waiting for a chance to extract his just revenge from the priests of Helgrind. Soon enough, they arrived at a passageway ending in a flight of stone steps that narrowed as it rose. Two novitiates stood by the stairs, one on either side, each holding a rack of bells. Before one could ring his bell or shout, Eragon was upon him making good of his word as he sliced off the young man's right hand and following that, he beheaded him as Solembum bore the other novitiate to the ground. But not before the youth had the chance to ring his bells, the passageway ringing with the clamor.

He fought the urge to curse as they hurried up the stairs.

At the top of the steps was a freestanding wall some ten feet wide, covered with ornate scrollwork and carvings. He glanced about the place and noticed the massive ribbed columns rising towards a vaulted ceiling that vanished into shadow. The stained-glass windows set within the towering walls surrounded them, those on the left shining with the in pouring of the sun's rays while the right was dull and flat, lifeless. Pale statues stood between the windows. Rows of granite pews, dappled with different colors, extending all the way to the far-off entrance to the nave. And, filling the first four rows, a flock of leather-garbed priests, their faces upturned and their mouths opened in song. This was the black citadel of Dras-Leona Eragon realized.

His eyes darted to the sight not five feet before him. The High Priest sat on its bier dripping from a cut on its shoulders. Another of the priests—a woman missing both hands—sat kneeling by the side of the bier, catching the falling blood in a golden chalice that she held clamped between her forearms. Both she and he High Priest stared at Eragon with astonishment.

A second later, he held Albitr in his hands and was making his way towards them his eyes narrowed ready to draw their blood. The handless woman dropped the chalice and stood, throwing her arms out wide as she shielded the High Priest with her body. Eragon wanted to laugh in amusement. If she had not cut her hands off to feed to the Ra'zac, then she would have a means to defend herself. Her lack of thinking only served to fuel the fact that she deserved death as well as the block of flesh that she was guarding.

Before he could reach them, two guards rushed at Eragon from either side of the altar, slashing at him with engraved, red-tasseled pikes. Sidestepping them, he flourished Albitr, turning the sword slightly in his hand as he cut through the weapon of the first attack. He revered the motion of his hand, arching it and then looped off the man's right hand. The limb fell to the ground followed by a fountain of blood. Then without giving him time to react, he stabbed the man in the heart throwing the body off to face his second attack. Parrying an attack which only ended up with him slicing through the pike. In that moment, he wanted to praise Angela for having such a wonderful weapon he thought as he sliced that man's right hand as well, beheading him.

Behind him, the herbalist joined him brandishing her poniard, and somewhere off to his left, Solembum growled. Arya hung back from the fighting, still carrying the young man. Eragon made sure that he blocked any attacker who thought to approach her seeing as she could not fight freely and was weaponless.

He watched as the guards slipped on the blood spilled from the chalice as well as the dead guards. Easily walking forward and stepping about their clumsy feet, two more hands joined the ground as well as two more bodies. Letting the bodies fall, he picked up on the screaming of the High Priest.

"Kill the infidels! Kill them! Don't let the blasphemers escape! They must be punished for their crimes against the old ones!" Immediately the congregation of priests began to howl and stamp their feet. Moving towards them he stopped when a multitude of minds clawed at his own. Distracted, he stood there fending them off. How dare they belittle him thought Eragon as he pushed them back. He was once Galbatorix's servant, taught under his tutelage. He knew all there was and more to guarding his mind. Though he hated to admit it, he was glad that they attacked him as individuals rather than a combined consciousness. If such a thing happened, it might be overwhelming for him to defend against.

Then Arya's consciousness was pressing against his—soft and familiar compared to the enemies attacking him. Without a second thought, he opened himself to her letting their thoughts and being merge into one. Together they stabbed with their minds at one of the priests. The man struggled vainly to evade their gasp but Eragon was unforgiving and Arya determined. Though he was trying his best to concentrate and keep them from breaking through his barriers, his lack of discipline was his undoing as he slipped in his panic.

Instantly Eragon and Arya seized upon the priest's weakness and quickly subjugated the man's thoughts to their will. He held the man in his grips as Arya casted a spell that she knew could slip past his wards.

In the third row of pews, a man screamed and burst into flames, green fire pouring from his ears, mouths, and eyes. The flames ignited the clothes of several priests close to him causing them to thrash and run wildly around. Eragon couldn't help but feel a significant amount of pride in Arya at the theatric display. She must be angry even if it didn't seem like it.

The herbalist ran down from the altar stabbing here and there with Solembum following close behind, finishing off those she fell. The ease at which Eragon and Arya invaded and seized control of their enemies' minds was significantly more so now. Their combined might was too great for their enemies to fend off in their disorganized and panicked state. They killed four more priests, at which point the congregation broke and scattered. Some fled while those who didn't cowered behind the pews.

Six of the priests, however, neither fled nor hid, but rather charged Eragon. To his annoyance as he found after trying to stab the lead priest, they were protected by wards that Albitr was unable to pierce through. No matter. Sheathing the weapon, he grabbed the woman as she sought to swipe at him with her knife. It was unfortunate how she still had a right hand thought Eragon as he snapped each and every finger in her right hand blood spouting from his hands. Then without pause he lifted his free hand and slammed it into her chest feeling the bones give way as she fell backwards onto her companions dead. He repeated the same for two more of the group. When he turned to the remaining three, he reached out for the man before him but the priest was killed, pierced by a green and yellow dart in his neck. Then Solembum leapt past him and took down another leaving but one follower of Tosk standing before them.

He felt a change in Arya's thoughts and stepped to the side to let his mate forward. She reached out with her free hand, grabbing the woman by the front of her leather robes and threw her screaming thirty feet over the pews. Eragon watched enthralled when Arya caught his stare, she raised a brow. "Have I told you that you are beautiful Arya?" asked Eragon hearing Angela's snort not far off.

"As flattering as your words are Eragon," her emerald eyes were amused despite the shouts and screams of death about them. "Now is not the time. You must focus."

That just left the High Priest thought Eragon as he turned to the creature watching as four novitiates lift up the High Priest's bier and were carrying it at a quick trot along the east side of the cathedral as they headed toward the front entrance of the building. _Well, _thought Eragon as he took in the hideous from of the priest. _It was as if I'm looking between heaven and hell. _

At his thoughts he heard a chuckle behind him from Arya, she no doubt having heard his thoughts. And he could tell from the emotions radiating off of her that she was rather pleased with him. _You better hurry before they escape Eragon. _

Hearing her words, he nodded and bounded after them like a wolf chasing his prey. Flying over the altar, he jumped over the fallen bodies and sprinted to the end of the cathedral, heading off the four novitiates and their path to escape. They turned at the High Priest's screams only to be faced by Arya blocking their path of retreat. Though she was carrying one of their own over her right shoulder, weaponless, her expression was enough to freeze one in place. His eyes flickered to her and she gave him a look of slight disapproval. _I am not an invalid Eragon. As much as you see me in a damsel in distress, I can still fight if needed. _

At the mention of damsel in distress he thought of Katrina and how both Murtagh and Roran ran off to her rescue. That was an image that did not fit Arya and he never would want such. _Can I not be worried for my mate who nearly tore off her right hand? _He shot back as they closed in on the High Priest.

She was quiet for a moment as the novitiates yelped and turned sideways, daring between the rows of pews. _You may, _she said after a few moments as they followed behind the novitiates. _However, do not overdo it. _She warned him as their escaping prey stopped as Solembum stepped around the end of the pews and began to pad towards them.

Eragon glanced over at Arya by his side. _I would never. _

Close behind Solembum was Angela, her poniard in one hand and a green and yellow dart in the other. They were now trapped thought Eragon satisfied. Having tried to escape by running between the pews, the novitiates had effectively cut off their paths of escape. At one end, Eragon and Arya stood ready to chase them if they ran or face them head on. On the other end were Angela and Solembum. They had to choose between the painful death that Eragon would bestow upon them or the death that Angela would deliver. Seeing their options, the novitiates did not lose their courage and with a shot ran towards Solembum and Angela believing that the two were not as dangerous as the two riders behind them. How wrong they were thought Eragon as he watched Solembum crouch before he leapt at them.

As the werecat sailed at them, the High Priest shouted a phrase that sounded unmistakably like it was part of the elves' native language. It had no affect on the werecat but Angela stumbled as if she was struck. He watched as Solembum landed on the novitiate closest to him, mauling him causing him to fall over, tripping his companions which caused the High Priest to tumble from the bier and fall onto one of the pews, helpless.

Once more, Eragon thought of how the High Priest's self mutilation led him to such a helpless state, dependent on the assistance of others. How sad Eragon thought as he drew Albitr. Within a second he was upon the three novitiates scrambling about themselves and with a quick flourish of the blade slew them. He did not flinch at the blood that was splattered on his arms, neck, and the lower part of his face. Though the novitiates did nothing to harm them like the priests did, they still sought to protect the High Priest and for that, Eragon would not forgive.

Giving their dead bodies one last glance he turned to the High Priest staring down into its obsidian black eyes. He thought of what the thing had said as he and Arya hung before it, merciless to it. It had intended for them to become the food that gave strength to its gods—the Ra'zac. It had wanted to punish them for Murtagh's doing and just for that Eragon felt his blood pumping through him, making him livid. As he started towards the limbless figure, he felt another mind invade his, probing and grasping at the most intimate parts of his self, seeking to control his thoughts. He paused distracted. He had only felt an attack like this before and that was from Galbatorix himself.

Though the High Priest was not to be compared to the dark king, he was formidable. Growling, Eragon pushed forward as the attack on his mind increased. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Arya and Solembum appeared immobilized, no doubt being attacked the same way as he was. The herbalist was an exception. She paused for a moment when the attack commenced, but then she continued to walk with slow shuffling steps toward Eragon. He blinked knowing that she was going to finish off the High Priest and refused to let her take his revenge. He started forward as well ignoring the aching pain in his mind and his grip on Albitr tightened.

Seeing his intentions, Angela sent him a look that clearly told him that she wanted to handle the High Priest. He stared at her for a moment, the attack on his mind intensifying and after a moment conceded. Angela did save his and Arya's life and if she wanted to kill the High Priest, he would let her. Consider it repayment to her. He still then, focusing on driving the mind of the High Priest back.

The herbalist stopped when she reached the High Priest, and the High Priest surprised Eragon by giving up its struggle and lying panting on the seat of the bench. For a minute, the hollow-eyed creature and the short, stern-faced woman glared at each other, an invisible battle of wills taking place between them. It appeared as if Angela had won out for she smiled, completely at ease. He watched her step forward a tiny dagger in hand.

"You ought to know my name, tongueless one. If you had, you never would have dared oppose us. Here, let me tell it to you…"

Eragon watched as she leaned forward to the High Priest, her words too low for him to make out. Then the High Priest released an unearthly howl that made his ears want to bleed. Wincing at the strength of it, Eragon was glad when Angela stabbed the thing in the center of its chest. A few seconds passed as some spell seemed to take root, turning the High Priest's body into a pile of black power, the shape of which matched the outline of the priest's head and torso.

"And good riddance," said Angela with a firm nod.

"Well," said Eragon after he took a moment to shake his head and clear his ears. He glanced at Angela. "That was eventful."

"You know what they say Eragon, payback is indeed—well, let's just put that in the past shall we?" she said completely at ease as the air about them rang with the sound of the priory bell, waking the city of Dras-Leona. He mentally cursed as he felt Arya's mind untangle from his not knowing that she was still intertwined with him. Hurriedly searching through the corpses about them, he found Brisingr and Vrangr underneath one of the novitiate. Brisingr was coated in blood while Vrangr appeared spotless and he knew the reason why.

_You must have had quite the dinner, _thought Eragon as he stared at Vrangr. He strapped Brisingr to his waist and after a look at Vrangr strapped his sword to his back. Continuing his search, he found Támerlein lying underneath the dead body of one of the priests between the pews. He helped to strap the sword to her hip seeing as she had only one free hand.

Taking the lead, he pushed open the heavy doors that led out of the cathedral as the tolling of the bells grew louder. _That's right, _thought Eragon darkly as he glanced up at the sky. _Call Faust and his demon. I will show him that I am not dead yet. _

He reached out for Saphira who was no doubt circling the sky with Eridor and Thorn ready for the signal to attack and divert the attention of the beast that lay within Dras-Leona. He soon felt the familiar touch of Saphira's consciousness.

_Sorry for the long wait, _apologized Eragon as he felt a wave of comfort wash over him as he was once more reunited with her. He could taste her worry, and he knew she had been considering descending upon Dras-Leona and tearing it to pieces in search of him. Keeping his memories from her for the moment since a battle was upon him, he continued. _Saphira, you and the others need to distract that beast. _

She acknowledge his statement, and he could feel her thoughts stretch out for Thorn and Eridor.

_Also, tell Nasuada to start her attack. We'll be at the south gates in a few minutes. If the Varden aren't there when we open it, escape will be hard to manage. _

He heard her roar above them and smirked. Saphira and Eridor were no doubt going to be twice as destructive as usual. They had no doubt come to the conclusion that something had befallen Eragon and Arya during their task only to delay them. He hoped to see their punishment. The three of them and Solembum continued to push through Dras-Leona as a tremendous, monstrous roar tore through the air shaking the buildings. He glanced up as a shadow obstructed the sun towering over the buildings.

It was if everything about them had stopped as the monster reared its tremendous head, howling into the air, its red eyes furious. He stared at its black body. It was lean and muscular, its arms long and banded like an Urgals. Its legs were slim but powerful. The neck of the beasts was strong as it constricted to release another bellow. Then from above three figures dived from the sky. Eragon watched in awe as the dragons emerged from the clouds. Not to be outdone, they released their own fearsome bellow as they dived towards the creature.

A myriad of emerald, sapphire, and ruby danced across the city as the sun's rays danced over their scales. He watched as Saphira easily maneuvered away from the claws of the beast and sank her teeth into its side earning a loud growl of pain. After a moment, he resumed trotting down the dark, winding cobblestone street along with the others. There were a number of people already in the streets and they gave Eragon and his companions no mind as they stared wide eyed and open mouth at the scene near the cathedral where the dragons were tearing at the beast.

After they were quite a ways away from the cathedral, Eragon had practically threw the novitiate into a nearby alleyway. "There, my promise to him is fulfilled," said Eragon as he turned to Arya. "We took him with us and this is as far as he goes."

Arya did not seem the least bit regretful as they continued on seemingly relieved to be relieved of the novitiate's weight.

The four of them hurried down the street. As they did, Eragon could not help but feel somewhat relieved that they were finally taking Dras-Leona. He had never liked the city and had wanted to staunch out everything that irked him but was unable to due to Galbatorix but now however, the moment the Varden took control of Dras-Leona, he would have to ask Nasuada a few favors—the biggest one was to rid the city of the black citadel.

The streets grew even narrower as they approached the city wall, and the overhanging buildings—houses mostly—blocked out everything but a thin strip of the azure sky. Sewage lay stagnant in the gutters along the edges of the buildings; Eragon and Arya used their sleeves to mask their noses and mouths while Angela seemed unaffected. Although Solembum growled annoyed.

The street ended at an intersection of five other lanes. Not deterred by the options left to them, Eragon led them forward. "This way," he motioned for them to follow. He knew the way about Dras-Leona. He had visited the city plenty of times.

A hundred feet ahead, the street they had chosen took a sharp turn and opened onto the square that lay before Dras-Leona's southern gate. They paused at the sight that awaited them.

Hundreds of soldiers stood gathered before the gate. The men milled about in seeming confusion as they donned weapons and armor, and their commanders bellows orders at them. The golden thread stitched onto the soldier's crimson tunics glittered as they rushed to and fro. Behind them Eragon saw was a huge mound of rubble against the inside of the gates, to keep the Varden from battering them in. He caught Arya's eye and could see that she looked dismayed. It would take days for them to move the rubble if they had the force to. The dragons could easily disperse it had they not been busy but Eragon couldn't risk distracting them for the moment he did they could easily be knocked out of the air and at the mercy of the beast they were fighting.

"Rebels!" Eragon turned to the soldier in that had shouted and growled. Within a minute Brisingr and Vrangr were in his hands. He ran forward his sapphire blades flashing in the light and behind him he heard Arya join him. Together they cut their way into the midst of the surprised soldiers, all of whom were so bewildered they did not seem to realize that they were being slaughtered by Eragon's and Arya's hands. He ignored the flights of arrows that rained down on them all bouncing off of their wards and only serving to kill or injure the Empire's own men.

_Not the brightest soldiers, _thought Eragon as he used Vrangr and Brisingr in combination to guard himself against the weapons that stabbed at him. Not resting, he pressed against the crowd of soldiers. He made sure to keep Vrangr close to the blood of the battle allowing his sword to have its fair share of blood. He could feel the sword shaking in his hand, energy pulsing through it. But no matter how much he fought and killed another soldier would step up to take his fallen companion's place. It was like a repeat of what happened in the tunnels underneath the great cathedral. Sheer number was wearing them down.

Turning to duck a soldier with a battle axe, Eragon blinked as he saw an emerald tip emerge from the soldier's torso and he was sliced in twain blood pouring from his body was the halves fell away to reveal Arya. He made his way to her and they pressed back to back in order to defend each other's blind spots as they fought.

He could feel Arya panting hard against his back. She was tiring he felt. Having ripped her hand earlier that day, she was not at her best as she fought and he too was starting to reach his limit. As powerful as they were, they were weakened from imprisonment and torture and that put them at a disadvantage at the hundreds of soldiers surrounding them.

"Any plans?" asked Eragon as he sliced down three soldiers with Vrangr.

"Magic," replied Arya. They tried and to no avail, the soldiers remained unharmed. They were protected thought Eragon, no doubt by Faust. His gaze swept over the soldiers pressing in on them. More and more were streaming out from the streets to lend their assistance. Not far off he saw Angela backed against the wall of one of the bordering houses. He glanced at the large stone mound in front of the gate. They had to let the Varden in to aid them.

"I have a plan," said Eragon as he fended off another attack. He continued, "Open your mind to me Arya. And make sure you keep steady."

With that said he waited for her to lower her barriers to him. When she did, his mind merged with hers ones more. But he wasn't simply looking to merge their thoughts, he wanted to merge their souls once more. Spirits, Eragon deducted used the energy of their souls to survive and cast magic. That was why he was going to use the energy of theirs. He felt Arya gasp behind him when they came together wholly without any barriers and the flow of energy that washed over them was like a cool river running over their bodies, dousing them in its warmth. Reaching out to Vrangr which was shaking with the energy of the blood it absorbed, particularly that of the High Priest's that was spilled from the golden chalice, he decided to use his sword as the medium to channel their energy.

_Relax Arya, _Eragon told her soothingly as they stood pressed against each other. He felt her nodded and the last of her resistance fell away as she let their souls freely come together. Channeling the energy through Vrangr, he raised his sword towards the mound of rubble and said with a shout, "Jierda!"

At his command, the huge pile of rubble blocking the gates erupted toward the sky in a solid pillar of earth and stone. The launch of rubble shook the square and drove everyone to the ground. Landing on all fours, he maintained the spell.

He felt the energy flow from Vrangr and from him using their souls as the river to supply the energy. Making sure not to use all of the light that was their life, he moved the rubble away from the gate. When it was a safe distance away or as far as he could manage without hurting himself and Arya, he released the spell. With a deceptively soft sound, the cloud of debris collapsed inward leaving the south gate bare of rubble. The gates to the city hung open, warped and splintered, damaged beyond repair.

Eragon gasped, heaving for air. He glanced at Vrangr, his sword still now depleted of all the energy it had collected. He could hear the soldiers struggle to their feet as the Varden poured into Dras-Leona, shouting war cries elated to finally be part of the battle. There was a deafening scream behind them followed by the tremendous echo of something heavy collapsing in on itself before he heard the dragons shouts of triumph. Had they won? Too tired to look, Eragon stood gripping his fallen swords when he had lifted the mound of rubble. What had been about to turn into a pitched battle become a rout as the soldiers scrambled to save themselves.

_Arya…? _Eragon glanced around wondering where his mate was. She should have been behind him. He spotted her halfway across the square, surrounded by twenty or so soldiers. The men were holding her arms and legs with grim tenacity as they tried to drag her away. Where Eragon did not know but he tore after them, feeling renewed with energy. He watched as Arya freed one of her hands and struck a man in the chin, breaking his neck, but another soldier took his place before she could swing again.

He was upon them before they could realize the folly of their ways and with his swords sliced down four of them before turning to mutilate the other soldiers, slicing off their hands that gripped at Arya. Seeing their bewildered and panicked state, Arya shook off her attackers. Within seconds, all the soldiers who had threatened Arya lay dead or dying. Those Eragon had not killed, Arya slew.

Sheathing both his swords, he heaved a breath as Arya picked up her fallen sword and sheathed it. She turned making her way back to him her eyes flashing. Her face was flushed as if she had run miles, no doubt due to the magic he had casted earlier. Tired, he leaned over on his knees trying to get a moment to recuperate his strength.

But that was not so, Arya gripped his tunic and pulled him to face her, a dangerous expression on her face. "Were you planning on killing us trying to open the gate?" she asked in a low tone. He blinked at her understanding her right to be angry. After all, on a whim he had forced their souls to resonant with one another to create a barrier of magic to use. It was reckless.

"No," said Eragon in the ancient language, "I would never let you die."

She paused for a moment taking in his words. He saw a battle in her eyes, before she growled pulling him close to her, "You foolish man." All words left him as she met his lips roughly. A shiver ran down the length of his body as he immediately straightened to stand over her, his arms about her waist pulling her as humanly close to him as possible. The adrenaline from their earlier battle still fresh in his blood, his heart still pounding. They were coated in blood, exhausted, and surrounded by their allies as they pushed forward into the city. Yet the two of them wanted nothing more than to merely stay there. And Eragon would not deny the fact that he wanted to sleep.

Pulling away, he smiled down at Arya before leading her to yellow mud wall, where the ground was relatively clear of filth. Sitting against the wall, they watched the Varden march into the city. "How did you do that?" asked Arya as she leaned against him tiredly.

"You mean merge our souls?" she nodded. Eragon paused unsure of whether or not he should tell her honestly. "Well, I had a theory but I did not know how to exactly do it."

"You merged our souls on a whim?"

Eragon paused at her question, "Yes."

She sighed against him, her breath warm on his neck as she shook her head causing her nose to glide against his skin. "Next time do not be so reckless with our lives Eragon." He nodded as he felt great winds buffet them as Saphira and Eridor landed beside them covered in dark blood but otherwise unhurt.

They stood despite the soreness they felt and went to reunite with their dragons. _Did you win? _

Saphira hummed as she stared at him with bright blue eyes. _Of course, did you expect anything else? _Eragon smiled as he reached out to embrace her around the neck ignoring the blood the coated her scales. _The beast that Faust created was not as intelligent as we are and even then I suspect Faust created the monster merely to intimidate us. _

_He has no intention to fight us seriously, _said Eragon. _He does not care for this war. Merely his experiments. _

_That is the monster he is, _agreed Saphira as Eridor turned his head away from Arya towards Eragon to nudge him lightly. Eragon sensing the dragon wanted to say something to him opened his mind to the him.

_Thank you for protecting Arya, _said Eridor sincerely. Eragon merely stroked his snout.

_Of course, even if you did not ask I shall always see to her safety, _said Eragon as Saphira's tail darted out to wrap about Arya in what appeared to be a hug and he had a growing suspicion that she was giving thanks to Arya as well even if she did not know what happened to them.

"Eragon!" He turned to find Murtagh running towards them following close behind was his twelve guards. They paused before Eragon and Arya taking in their bloodied appearance. He could tell that they focused on the left part of Eragon's face and Arya's right hand where there was the most blood.

"Murtagh," he inclined his head at his brother who gave him a bag. Eragon took it and opened it to find his armor inside as well as light armor for Arya. He raised a brow at Murtagh.

"Rosalie wanted to hand it to you but she is needed by Nasuada's side," explained Murtagh. Eragon nodded pulling out his armor. "What happened to the two of you?"

"As much as I would like to tell you," said Eragon accepting a wineskin from Yaela. "We have a battle to win and a magician to kill." He drank the wineskin feeling energy pulse through him as he recognized the taste of the elven wine. Thanking Yaela, he handed the rest to Arya. "You should go assist the Varden. We will change and join in the fighting."

His half-brother nodded and with that turned and ran through the square with his guards close behind. Finished with the drink, Arya tossed the wineskin to the side looking rejuvenated. Wishing that there was a way for them to change in privacy, he was nervous despite the dragons' reassurance, he did not feel comfortable not with himself changing but with Arya doing so out in the open. However, she was not daunted as she trusted in the dragons' words. He watched as she stripped, covered by the dragons' large mass in an almost full circle. After a moment, Eragon hurried into his armor making sure to keep his eyes to himself. When they were done, he turned to Arya as he donned his helm.

"Ready?" she asked.

"There is only one answer to that question," answered Eragon. She smiling faintly as she climbed onto Eridor. He spared her one last glance before he jumped up onto Saphira. The dragons crouched and Eragon turned to Arya. "Ready?" he repeated the question to her.

She paused deliberating for a moment, "I believe I am."

_Then let us fly! _Shouted Saphira. Jumping up from the ground, the dragons unfurled their wings and took the skies to show them the beginnings of the siege for Dras-Leona. As they climbed, Eragon kept searching for the white robes that belonged to Faust.

**If you have questions about the soul bond...You're just going to have to wait for it to be explained later on. Remember what I said, ExA and their connection is essential to the ending. Apart from that I don't really have much to say in this chapter. I just can't wait to write the next chapter with Faust and possibly the showdown between him and Eragon. Be ready to be wowed everyone. Also, does anyone mind recommending a good Inheritance Fanfic or a good Harry Potter Fanfic (In canon— Harry&Ginny. I just can't stand not having them together). I've been wanting to read some stories again. Anyways see you all soon. **


	88. Chapter 84

Chapter 84

**And so the chapter with Faust everyone. (Standard Disclaimer: I do not own anything with the Inheritance Cycle) Anyways everyone have fun reading. This was a difficult chapter to me. R&R. **

_Where was Faust?_

That was the first thing that came to mind as they flew over Dras-Leona, the battle for the city growing monumentally as time passes. He could see it in the streets now, the Varden pushing against the Empire. Letting his eyes pass over the stone buildings, it landed on the dead mass that was impaled on the spiral of the great cathedral of Dras-Leona. The best was mutilated in several places, chunks of flesh missing, its left eye gouged out of its socket, and the spiral of the cathedral protruding from the center of its chest coated in its blood. Seeing the painful death that was delivered to the monster, Eragon reached down and patted Saphira's shoulder affectionately.

_I may or may not have clawed out its left eye, _she added causing Eragon to smile. When they were done he would make sure to find a large feast to serve to Saphira. After all, she deserved it and much more. As they flew over Dras-Leona, Eragon heard a bellowing roar and glanced down to find Thorn in the main street of the city, bathing the soldiers pressing at their forces in her torrent of flames. He could make out Murtagh by his foreleg and not far off was Nasuada giving orders. Staring at the battle for a moment, he and Saphira continued to fly.

His eyes darted from building to building and he reached out with his mind trying to determine Faust's location by feeling for his mind. As he expected though, Faust had blocked his mind and had done so well. He could not detect the man's mind in the least. It annoyed him. Eragon was never one to entertain the feeling of searching for a needle in a haystack. However, he had an intuitive feeling that the magician was no doubt in the keep. He had a feeling that he would find Faust there at the thought of it, he felt his hands fist.

_This is going to be the end for him. _

As he thought of Faust and the torment the man had brought to him, he felt his heart constrict. A small part of him would always fear Faust. He detested the fact—loathed it. But it was something he couldn't control. It was irrational but when Faust had stabbed out his left eye, he thought about the time he was a child and how deathly afraid he was as he stared up at the man leaning over him. It was the same fear that he felt then when he was hanging in the chamber underneath the cathedral. It was the same situation all over again.

But yet it wasn't. He glanced over at the elf that was saddled on Eridor, her emerald eyes intent on studying the city below helping him to search for the white robes. He had her by his side, her presence a great comfort to him. And when she had pulled her right hand from the manacle, something had changed in him as he hung there. He had sworn to himself then and there that he was not going to die in Dras-Leona and that her sacrifice was not going to be in vain.

When he had heard her scream, Eragon's heart had stopped in his chest altogether. It had been a scream filled with agony one that he had never before heard from Arya and it rang in his memories as a reminder of their torment together. He had heard her scream before not in pain but in bliss and the difference between the screams was great. In that one moment as he saw her hang there, he saw her unable to keep the pain at bay and tremble, and he saw her hand mangled as if beyond repair. He had felt rage before but it was different that time. It was an insatiable thirst for Faust's blood. It was a need to destroy everything and anything that made to harm Arya.

It was then he understood how deeply it hurt for an elf to feel grief or anger.

It was the worst moment of his life seeing her in so much pain. He had thought he knew what pain was but it was nothing like watching Arya, struggling to maintain her consciousness and he understood then her words.

_The true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself, it's having to watch those you care about being hurt._

He understood her words now. He understood it with all of his being as he remembered her being in so much pain. His throat tightened and he felt his eyes sting. He knew that Arya would be disapproving if he showed how upset he was at her earlier injuries. He trusted that she could take care of herself but a part of him would always worry for Arya. It was only natural. Coughing slightly in his hand as Saphira flew of what appeared to be rising smoke, Eragon glanced towards the rapidly approaching keep surprised to find that it was unguarded.

_It appears as if the soldiers had decided to join in on the fighting_, he heard Arya's voice in his mind. Eragon glanced towards where she sat on Eridor and raised his brow._ Faust must have sent all of them into the city and away from the keep. He must be trying to lure you in. _

_That makes matters all the more easier for us does it not? _

She paused her thoughts slightly confused. He waited for her listening to the music that weaved in and out of her mind. It calmed him. After a long moment, she spoke._ Eragon, whatever happens. Do not forget that I am by your side. _

_I will not_, promised Eragon as they neared the keep. He sniffed and immediately covered his nose. There was an odd smell coming from the castle. It smelt like rotten and burnt flesh. He covered his nose as Saphira landed in the empty courtyard Eridor alighting beside her. He stared up at the stone castle. There was not a shadow by the windows. The battlements were devoid of soldiers and the keep itself was silent. All that he could pick up from the keep was the foul odor that seemed to grow.

Sliding from Saphira, he unsheathed Brisingr and strode forward stopping when he felt a hand grip his arm stopping him. He turned back and stared at Arya curiously. Her expression alarmed him. He had never seen her look so anxious before but he saw it as clear as daylight as she stood before him, her emerald eyes staring up at him as if pleading with him. After a moment, he reached up and gripped her hand uncurling her fingers from his arm. He held her hand waiting for her to speak.

Sometime passed before she spoke. Her lips barely moved and the only indication that she said anything was the one word that slipped from her lips, tumbling out. "Please…" That was all she said but he understood her sentiments well enough. He held her hand for a moment longer and could feel a slight tremor in it despite the fact that she stood ramrod straight, her expression not betraying the fact that she was afraid of what was to come.

Eragon nodded sparing her one last glance and a squeeze of her hand before releasing it. Taking the lead, he led the way up the keep surprised to find the doors open, inviting them in. Leave it to Faust to think of theatrics when his life was nearing the end. Eragon was certain of it. Today was the last day Faust would live to see. Morning will never come for him again. Pushing the door open, he stepped through the keep and was immediately overwhelmed by the smell. If only his senses weren't so delicate at the moment. Coughing slightly, he reached up to cover his nose and mouth with his hand as he pushed forward, Arya behind him.

Faust was no doubt experimenting again. Turning back, he glanced over Arya's shoulders to the dragons who were in the courtyard. _You two should go assist the Varden,_ said Eragon as he stared at them. Saphira was instantly disagreeable to his suggestion.

_And leave you to fend Faust off for yourself? Never, not again,_ she said with a growl, baring her teeth.

_I will have Arya by my side. Besides you cannot enter the keep, you should help rather than sit and wait for us,_ said Eragon. She growled again but he could tell from her thoughts that she knew he was right in saying so.

After a moment, she reluctantly acquiesced to his request._ Eridor and I shall fight by the keep. If anything happens send your thoughts in my direction and I will come for the two of you. _

_Of course. Now go. _

He watched as she stared at him for a long moment before she turned and went to assist in the fighting and as she had said, she assisted with the battle close to the keep to stay close to them. Watching her for but a moment longer, Eragon turned and made his way back inside the keep still covering his mouth and nose. If Faust planned to give him a weak stomach the magician was certainly doing an effective job. The smell was enough to make anyone retch, strong stomach or not.

After spending some time searching the landings, Arya shook her head obviously annoyed. Her complexion was pale and it looked as if she did not want to keep blocking her nose and mouth. She spoke to him in his mind._ We should travel to the center of the smell. Perhaps he is there. _

_You are willing to breathe in the odor? _

Eragon looked at her as if daring her to remove her hand and take in the smell. She blinked at him once before slowly peeling her hand from her nose and lips. He saw her chest rise and fall, the air flowing through her nose. There was a pause before she turned away from him coughing violently into her hands. Had it been anyone else he would have laughed and taunted them but seeing as it was Arya he waited until she regained her composure hand clasped firmly over her mouth and nostril.

_We will never find him if we tarry for too long. He may even escape. _

He stared at her his brow twitching as her emerald eyes peered at him. Then he sighed knowing that it was already a battle lost. Slowly, he peeled his fingers away from his lower face and let the air waft over his nose still not breathing it in. Then carefully, Eragon took in a waft of air, the smell flowing through his nose before reaching his brain.

He nearly doubled over as if he was slammed violently in the gut. The smell was horrible. It was a mixture of rotten flesh, burnt bodies, dry blood, and some sort of stench that he could not identify. All of it was combined into one to make sure a powerful odor that he was positive it could easily knock someone unconscious. His stomach rolled about uneasily and he fought the urge to violently cough as if the smell had suddenly brought something unpleasant into his body. But he did not give in, instead he straightened and tried not to look sick.

_You look violently ill. _

Sparing Arya a look that said that her comment was not needed, he took in another deep breath. Mind over matter thought Eragon determinedly trying to think above the smell. His mind was just smelling it. If he tried to fool himself and mask the smell into something more pleasant it would be bearable. Instantly, he thought of one smell that he craved. He thought of crushed pine needles and a womanly scent that always made him heady. There was a flash of a memory in his mind and instantly Arya reached over to pinch his hand causing him to take in another great breath of air that nearly made him stumble.

_What?_ Eragon asked her as he regained his bearings dizzy from the stench.

She shook her head. _Is this really the moment to be thinking of such things? _

When she mentioned it once more, the memories flashed once more in his mind despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. Skin upon skin, a wetness, and the heady scent once more. He pushed the thoughts out as he winced once more breathing in the air._ I was trying to distract myself from the odor. _

_You are only managing to distract yourself entirely_, said Arya. He grumbled and instead thought of something else that did not involve anything close to those memories. Taking in her words, he continued to breathe in the smell and started to lead them towards the center of the stench. Navigating through the hallways, he led them to the heart of the smell. The closer they came the harder it was for him to breathe until it felt as if someone had gripped his throat and was choking him to death. Stumbling slightly, Eragon had to lean against a wall coughing as tremors ran the length of his body. He wanted to retch but was unable to.

Beside him Arya had reached up to take his head and she shifted his face until he was breathing against her hair smelling the scent of crushed pine needles. _Perhaps you should cover your mouth and nose. I can see if I can lead us to where Faust is. _

_No, I can do it. I have been smelling the stench for some time now, I should be more accustomed to it by now. If you start breathing it in you may end up getting ill_, said Eragon as he took one last sniff of her hair before pulling away. She looked concerned but did not stop him as he led her inside a corridor where the smell was worse by ten folds.

Dizzy and feeling very ill, Eragon continued his grip on Brisingr never faltering as he led them through the corridor. His eyes was playing tricks on him as he walked watching as the corridor shifted and moved about him before finally falling back into place. He shook his head panting slightly as he moved forward towards the door at the end of the hallway. Placing his hand on the door, he opened it and nearly fell to his knees as the stench slammed into him.

Steadying himself on his feet, he pulled open the door and stepped forward into the main hall. It was devoid of any soldier, servant, or guard. There was not one person in the spacious hallway. He glanced around taking a look at the beautifully decorated hallway with its ornate walls that came up into a peaked ceiling and wide windows. Cautious, he walked in further into the hallway. He turned to Arya as she glanced about as if trying to find something out of place.

_Stay close to me Arya,_ this time she did not argue with him about being a damsel in distress. She knew that he had past experiences with Faust and trusted in his judgment. Staying close behind him, they walked further into the main hallway the battle outside seemingly far away as from a different world.

The silence in the keep was overbearing. He couldn't stand it. Where was the Lord of the Place? Where was Lord Tábor? Did Faust kill him? The thought made Eragon tense. He couldn't have though. If Faust killed him, Galbatorix would no doubt be highly displeased. That could only mean that Faust had tossed him out of the keep or the two of them were acting independently from one another. He took another step, the metal boots he wore sounding loudly against the marbled floor. Moving forward one more pace until he stood in the center of the hallway, he blinked as he felt a slight tremor run through his body.

Was that his body's doing?

As he was thinking, he blinked feeling Arya grip his hand an alarmed expression on her face. Eragon turned to her to ask what it was that was bothering her stopping when he noticed the glow on her skin. There was a purplish glow that illuminated her. It was coming from the ground. The two of them glanced down and Eragon felt his eyes widen at the sight of the six point star burned onto the ground underneath them. Without thinking, he gripped Arya and with his strong arms threw her clear of the star as the glow grew stronger, the ground beneath trembling with increased strength. Trying to steady himself as Arya landed on her feet over twenty yards away, he shook his head when she made forward. Instead, Eragon made to join her but as he tried to lift his feet, he found that they would not budge.

So it was a trap, thought Eragon as he tried to yank his feet free from the center of the star. He yanked again and gasped when his leg refused, the bones aching as he unintentionally stretched them. The trembling continued until cracks appeared in the surface of the marbled floor spreading all about them. Then ropes began to emerge from the cracks. No, not ropes thought Eragon in alarm as he stared at the tentacles that hovered in the air about them.

_Eragon_! Letting out a gasp, he blinked as the ground beneath him was torn apart as a tentacle came burst from the earth with such speed that it pierced through the bottom of his left foot, going right through his wards. The moment his blood splattered against the floor the star grew until the entire floor fell away to reveal a cavernous space underground and that was when he saw a sight that made him want to retch once more. It was like how it was back in Belatona. Hundreds of bodies laid underneath them and had it not been for the tentacles that were wrapped about him lifting him up in the air, he would have fallen on them.

Struggling to free himself, he twisted his sword arm with Brisingr watching as the meaty flesh gave away to the blade. However the tentacles despite bleeding did not give way and wrapped about Eragon once more. This time tighter threatening to choke him. He struggled watching as not far off Arya was also struggling to free herself for she was pinned against the wall, her sword arm pinned against the ornate stone.

"I knew you would come for me Eragon."

His eyes darted to the source of the voice and there standing on top of the mound of bodies was Faust. But it wasn't him. His white robes were stained red and half of his body was transformed. He saw the bulges in his skin, the red of his eyes, the deformed arms and legs and knew that Faust was truly no longer human.

"What did you do to yourself?" Eragon choked out as a tentacle wounded itself about his neck trying to cut off his wind pipe. He stared at Faust and took in the right side of his body that still had some semblance of what he once looked like as compared to the left side of his body where the skin had blacked and bulged in random intervals, proof that the tentacles that held them were part of his body however badly deformed it was now.

"I will tell you that it is rather difficult to experiment when you are the test subject yourself but I believe I did wonderfully," said Faust the tentacles tightening. Eragon glanced at Arya to see her trying to breathe as she was suffocated against the wall.

He coughed and glanced downwards at the hundreds of bodies below them: men, women, and children laid dead beneath their feet. The smell of their corpses telling him they were not recently killed. "What did you do to them?" he spat at Faust managing to free his arm and swing Brisingr once more cut the tentacles away only to have them return with a vengeance.

Faust looked genuinely confused at Eragon's question before he glanced down realization flooding through him. "These people? I had sought to find a person to see if I can use the blood seal on them but it appears as if the ritual requires potent blood like one of a dragon, a rider, or an elf for example. I must thank you for completing the seal Eragon. You have my gratitude."

"Have you lost your mind?" Eragon growling as he swung Brisingr once more. Not giving the tentacles time to recover from being sliced away once more, he tugged himself free falling to the ground and landing on the body of a dead soldier, mentally wincing at the squelching sound that it caused. Darting away from Faust, he hurried to where Arya was pinned against the wall cutting at the base of tentacles. Catching her as she fell, with great jumps he cleared the great whole in the ground and skidded to a stop on what remained of the marble floor of the main hall.

Setting Arya on her feet, he glanced at her momentarily. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head rubbing her throat slightly.

"Just sore," she murmured glancing back at Faust who did not give chase to them. Instead he merely watched them as if finding them interesting to study. Eragon turned to him and stared at the man who was once his tormentor. As he stared at Faust's deformed body and the bodies that surrounded him, he couldn't help but pity the man. He had surrounded him with death and the obsession of magic and humans. If only he was born an elf, he would have been able to devote his studies elsewhere in which human lives were not a needed sacrifice.

"I want to ask you a question before I kill you," said Eragon with narrowed eyes as he stared at the man. Faust merely raised a brow and given his expression it would seem as if they were having a discussion on politics but seeing as they were surrounded by death and the wrenching stench it brought it was not so. "What did you hope to gain from doing this Faust?"

Faust merely stared at him. Then he began to laugh as if Eragon's question was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard in his entire life. His laughter boomed from him to the point that he had to place a hand on his face to control himself. If it was meant to unsettle Eragon, it did no such thing. It only made Eragon want to skewer him through the gut with Brisingr even more. He was mocking him thought Eragon dangerously. A minute passed before he stopped still chuckling.

"I will be honest Eragon seeing as you are so determined to kill me but I have always like it when you were in rage far more than when your are inquisitive," said Faust. Eragon glared at the man not liking the fact that he was insulting his intelligence. Thinking of the ways he could kill Faust, he waited for Faust to continue. "What does it matter now? What I have done, I have no regrets Eragon. When one is born, they are born with one life and why live that life chained down by rules and laws set by someone else? I was born free, free to do as I pleased. And I wanted to kill so I killed. I wanted to experiment on magic and so I experimented. It is as simple as that."

"I never thought of you as a simple minded man," said Eragon with a frown.

"Those who embrace what they desire never need for complexity. I am unlike you, a mere marionette of those above you. I understand what it is that I want and I am not afraid to take it. How long, Eragon, can you play as the puppet?"

"I do this of my own free will," said Eragon stiffly but sincerely. "If only you weren't so twisted. You could have done something useful in your life."

"I have for myself my dear boy," said Faust neither regretful or remorseful. "I shall not do anything for anyone. Not even Galbatorix. I may work for the king but only due to the fact that he has provided me with hundreds or thousands of opportunities to continue my research. He gave you to me Eragon and I shall never forget how wonderful of a test subject you were."

Eragon stiffened as he stared at Faust slowly, he pull out Vrangr. "I see," said Eragon as he stared at Faust with hard eyes, "You have no desire to try for remorse do you? No desire to atone for what you have done to those innocent lives you have taken."

"No, I already told you I did what I desired and I enjoyed it," said Faust with a smile as he raised his hand towards them. "Now you have two options left Eragon: you either kill me or I shall kill you. What will you decide?"

Eragon blinked as his grip on his sword tightened. He took one look at Faust and then at the hundreds of dead bodies about them. There was no way to talk to Faust. No way of understanding the magician. He was merely wasting his breath and prolonging the inevitable. He stared at Faust as he bent his knees.

"I will not be the one dying today Faust," said Eragon as he watched the man's smile widen a purple glow appearing in the palm of his right hand. "Let us finish what has started years ago." With that said, he and Arya both dive out of the way as a ball of purple magic flew towards them. It flew past and hit the door behind them igniting it into flames. He glanced at Arya and she stared back at him before nodding. Taking in a deep breath, he turned and jumped down into the pitch of earth making sure not to intentionally run over the bodies if he could help it.

Arching in from the left, he saw Arya moving in from the right. Flashing Brisingr and Vrangr, he was about to close in on Faust when he felt something grip his leg. Eragon blinked glancing down to find one of the dead bodies had moved, a pale white hand coming out to grip his leg. He blanched at the sight of dead eyes staring up at him. No not staring, the body was dead after all. Sorry.

With a flourish of Brisingr, he sliced off the hand as he dodged a tentacle that made to swipe at him. "In all my years of research Eragon I have learned the ways to manipulate flesh and have understood how easy it is to control a body especially if it is dead," Faust said as Eragon made to run towards him stopping once more when hands and teeth grabbed at him.

"They're already dead Faust! Just let them rest in peace!" with that said, he swung Brisingr once more and lunged forward slicing the tentacles that made for him. Sliding on blood that he did not see, he stumbled as a slime covered tentacle slammed into his gut nearly sending him to the ground. Spitting blood slightly, he shook his head. He was not going to give out just because of one hit to the stomach. Instead he redouble his efforts trying his best to hurry forward and close in on Faust who was preoccupied with Arya, trying to attack her with his spells. She was doing her best to distract Faust from him thought Eragon. She was trying to give him an opening and he was going to take it.

Running forward, he slid under the swinging tentacles and closed in on Faust as he turned away from Arya. But the moment Eragon closed in on him, Faust merely smiled as if he was hoping for Eragon to move closer. The moment he was close enough, Faust's left hand struck him in the side of the head. Growling, he returned the favor and looped off the man's right hand.

"That was for Arya," said Eragon as he blocked another hit by Faust's hand.

"How touching," drawled Faust. Then he smiled, he lifted his bleeding stump on his right arm and began to murmur rapidly in the ancient language so fast that Eragon could barely catching words. Suddenly the blood that was pouring from his stump jumped forward, hardening into slim spikes as they sunk into Eragon's flesh piercing his armor before withdrawing as if a weapon. Stumbling slightly, he lifted Vrangr to parry another hit. His sword reacted at the touch of blood and began to draw Faust's blood in devouring the man's life essence.

Sensing something coming down on him from above, Eragon swung Brisingr upwards slicing off more of the tentacles that stretched from Faust's body. Running forward as he saw how pale Faust was becoming as he tried to break the connection between his blood and Vrangr, Eragon turned Brisingr in his hand as he jumped forward and arched it down.

There was a cry of pain and Faust was stumbling backwards, his left eye bleeding profusely. Eragon jumped back nearly tripping as another corpse grabbed his leg pulling at him. He threw the body off as he panted. "Angela told me a rather fitting saying earlier. I hope you heard of an eye for an eye?"

"Not exactly however I shall repay you for my injuries," before he could saying anything, he heard a cry of pain and turned to find Arya immobilized clutching her head. Distracted Eragon made towards her only to have his feet swept out from underneath him and soon enough he was pinned down by the tentacles. Blinking at his sudden position, he used his swords to cut himself free in a spray of blood and flying limbs.

He just stood as he watched as Arya was pierced in the shoulder by a tentacle in her immobilized state trying to fend off Faust's mental attack. He watched as she was thrown back with a great force. She hit the wall, the impact sending cracks in the ornate stone before she fell to the marble ground. Eragon made for her only to be stopped by Faust. He shouted something in the native tongue of the elves and Arya fell to the ground, looking as if she was asleep.

"You will turn your back on me when you have the perfect chance to kill me?" asked Faust mocked. "It is your life or mine now Eragon. There is no one to interrupt us. Now fight me until you can no longer withstand doing so and if you beg for it, I shall see that death embraces you."

"I am sick with your talk!" snarled Eragon launching forward dodging between the tentacles that protruded from Faust's body. The magician merely smiled. He had to hurry and see to Arya. It wasn't like her to be knocked down so easily. So this was what Faust wanted thought Eragon as he dodged about the man, drawing closer only to be pulled away by the tentacles and hands of the corpses. They fought with neither of them gaining ground on each other. Eragon was strong and fast but Faust understood magic and the flow of magic and was able to turn that against him easily and without Arya with him he was having trouble closing in on the magician.

Grabbing his left leg as it was bleeding profusely from a cut that Faust had given him, Eragon panted sweating profusely. Every time he tried to close in on Faust, the man would either throw a dead body at him to block his path or take a swipe at him with his tentacle. The way they were fighting, Eragon was bound to tire unable to continue and he could only assume that Faust had consumed the remaining energy in the corpses about him.

"Tired already Eragon?" mocked Faust.

Eragon merely frowned blinking the sweat away as he ran forward. Moving forward, he caught sight of the body tossed his way and though he felt apologetic, he immediately sliced through the body as he closed in on Faust ignoring the tentacle that pierced him through his right arm causing Brisingr to fly from his hand. Tugging his hand off of the tentacle, Eragon continued forward his arm not healing due to having exhausted Arya's magic earlier. She had still not woken and it worried him.

Flourishing Vrangr in his left hand, he stabbed it forward blinking as it landed on its mark piercing Faust in the gut. The magician did not so much as flinch as Eragon stood before him gripping the sword that was pierced through his gut. Instead he merely smiled. Bringing up his left hand, he shouted in the ancient language the spell throwing Eragon off of his feet and making him land on a pile of bodies a few feet away. They instantly tugged at him refusing to let him move in his dazed state.

Vrangr would finished the task thought Eragon as he struggled to sit up. He saw Faust pale and dying before him holding up his left hand as his right one continued to bleed, a great ball of violet magic pulsing in the palm of his hand. He opened his mouth to let forth a spell but before he could out of the corner of Eragon's eyes, he saw someone jump down into the pit. He saw a flash of blue that was Brisingr. Faster than he could ever think he saw someone running towards Faust as the words began forming on his lips.

Twisting Brisingr expertly, he watched as the warrior stabbed Faust directly in the heart throwing the magician off balance as the spell left his lips the great ball of magic flying upwards, hitting the ceiling. He watched as the violet magic slammed into the ceiling cracking it. Eragon blinked his mind unable to make the connection that the person holding Brisingr and digging it into his Faust's chest was his mother. She was dressed in leather clothing, her hair braided a fierce expression on her face.

"Never touch my child again!" she practically spat shoving Brisingr forward as Faust stared at her in apparent shock. It was a sight to behold, the magician with half of his body deformed and sprouting tentacles, a missing right hand, and an injured left eye stabbed by a mother of three children. Faust opened his mouth to speak words but words did not leave his lips, instead bubbles of blood came out dripping and spilling down his chin. His silver eyes beheld Eragon once more and he fell to the ground Vrangr protruding from his gut and Brisingr from his heart.

The moment Faust fell, the hands clutching at Eragon fell as well, the spell controlling the dead bodies gone with Faust. Eragon sat there staring at his mother unable to think. There was a rush of footsteps and he heard Murtagh's voice. "Mother!"

Jumping down from the marble floor from above Murtagh landed on his feet not far from Eragon, Zar'roc lax in his hands. Above the ceiling trembled and a chunk of debris fell squashing a pile of bodies. Immediately Eragon scrambled to his feet as the main hall of the keep began to collapse. "Eragon where are you going?" yelled Murtagh as Eragon scrambled towards where Arya laid watching as Murtagh swept their mother in his arms and began to escape from the keep.

"Go on with mother!" Eragon called after him as he jumped from the ditch onto the marble floor running towards where Arya laid. All about them the keep continued to collapse. Behind him the ceiling gave way, the rubble blocking the path to Murtagh and his mother. There was no time to escape, not with the way the support of the ceiling was giving out. Not having the energy to slow everything in place, Eragon did what instinctively came to him. He dove towards Arya, using his mass to cover her body hoping that his wards would hold as the ceiling and walls came crumbling down on them, burying them.

**I always envisioned Faust being killed by Selena. It just seemed so right to me and its more of a reminder that-Hey, just because I'm a mother doesn't mean I should be taken lightly type of thing, like Mrs. Weasley from HP. I believe this is the epitome of Faust's life. He's done all his research, he's lived life doing what he wanted how he wanted and now knowing that there's no escape, he gives a last ditch effort to kill Eragon. And though Eragon does repay him for several injuries, it's fitting that his mother finishes him off. Ah, to have a mother's love. Anyways, this was a pretty difficult chapter and I hope you all enjoyed it. Anyways see you soon. **


	89. Chapter 85

Chapter 85

**And so the aftermath...Anyways, R&R everyone. (Disclaimer-Do not own anything relating to the Inheritance Cycle). **

It was dark but despite the darkness, there was a warmth to it. Lying there, Arya struggled to come to her senses, to regain control her limbs. Whatever it was that Faust had done to her, it had taken the breath from her and had left her swimming in darkness trying to free herself. She wanted to open her eyes, to curl her fingers inwards and grip something, to just move to make sure that her limbs were still properly functioning but it was difficult.

Somewhere far off in the distance, she heard shouting and fighting. Eragon was fighting Faust. He was fighting the demon of his past. Her struggle with the darkness continued but the dark abyss refused to let her free to help assist. So she laid there and continued her silent struggle as the fighting grew. Then after a few moments all was silent.

_What was happening? _

She wanted to open her eyes but it was so difficult. There was a splatter of something warm against her cheek. The warm liquid traveled down her skin and fell against her lips and she tasted iron in it and having tasted it before alarm shot through her so quickly that her body instantly reacted before she could grasp the entire situation. Letting out a gasp as her eyes flew open, a shudder overtaking her for a second she stared up above her.

Lying directly above her, his body braced against hers was Eragon. He was bleeding profusely from the injuries that he suffered from Faust but she saw cuts on his body and dents in his armor that made her confused. That was when she noticed that all about them it was pitch dark and she could only make his out due to the slight light that pierced through a few cracks. Were they buried?

Her tongue feeling heavy as did her mind, she struggled for a moment waiting for the effects of Faust's spell to wear out before she finally spoke, "Eragon," she murmured softly to the man above her his head lowered against her shoulder as if he was struggling to keep it upright. He stirred for a moment but did not respond. Trapped underneath his body, she was unable to free her hands to move about and shake him but instead settled for trying kick his legs which were close beside hers. "Eragon…"

There was a pained groan before she felt him shift above her and from the sudden hiss that escaped his lips she could tell that he was in pain. He shifted once more and with what appeared great difficulty, lifted his head to stare down at her. She could barely make out his features but she saw his brown eyes, lips, and the straight bridge of his nose. He blinked down at her as if confused momentarily by their positions.

"Are you hurt?" his words were soft but seeing as he hovered mere inches from her face, she heard him clearly as if he had spoke at a normal volume. Shaking her head, she frowned up at him.

"You are hurt," she said leaving no room for arguments. She heard his light chuckle before she continued. "Where is Faust?"

"Dead," said Eragon and she could tell from the sound in his voice that he was relieved. She wanted to ask how but he shifted above her once more and she heard the sound of rubble falling against each other and realized with a jolt that it was Eragon's body that was preventing the heavy mass of masonry from crushing her. There was a twinge of irritation in her but it was easily overshadowed by the strange warmness that she felt. She stared up at him and his determined expression as he hovered over her. _Was this how it felt like to be protected wholly? _

She knew that Eragon was protective and oftentimes worried for her safety though he never outright made any showing of it. She felt it in her and in his emotions that connected them. It was a feeling that was unlike anything she had felt before. It was different from dependency. The longer she stayed beneath him, the more she felt her heart go out to him and his actions. After a moment, the word came to her.

_Safe. _

It was as if his body had become a fortress about her to protect her and though Arya did not view herself as a damsel in distress, she was moved beyond words and could only stare up at Eragon hoping he understood her feelings. He shifted and she heard a gasp of air leave him, followed by a twitch of his body. "The dragons will be here to dig us out," said Eragon and just as the words left him, there was a bellow overhead. "There they are."

Still cocooned in the darkness together, she heard the cracks above them meaning that the dragons had found them. Knowing that she would not be able to have Eragon to herself for some time, she spoke without thinking. "I love you Eragon."

There was a pause of breath from above and she could tell that he was smiling down at her. "And I love you as well Arya." A tremendous thud sounded above them, then there was the sounds of stone crunching against stone before the mass above them was lifted to reveal a sapphire snout. Another thud followed the previous one and soon enough the two of them were freed of the rubble and staring down at them was Saphira, her eyes sparkling in worry.

"Thank you Saphira," moving to his feet, Arya narrowed her eyes at the bright light glancing around herself. The main hall of the keep had entirely collapsed, the ceiling and walls fallen down on them. There was rubble everywhere and she could see the remains of the keep on either side. Sitting up, she stood and glad that her body was responding to her commands and made her way over to Eragon as he tugged off his helm which was bloodied.

"Where is my mother?" Eragon asked Saphira.

_Murtagh has her safe in hand. He managed to escape before the keep collapsed, _said Saphira before she nudged Eragon with her snout. _You should remove your armor Eragon, the dented metal is giving you pain. _

"I shall do it," said Arya as she walked over to where he sat bloodied and tired and yet looking for all the world grateful and free as if a great burden was lifted from his shoulders. She crouched beside him and helped him to remove his gauntlets tugging it off of him. Then she started the slow task of removing the chest piece. It was dented inwards in various places. There were holes where Faust's tentacles had pierced him and indents in where the rubble had pressed down too hard on him. With gentle fingers, she managed to remove the armor to reveal his blood soaked tunic underneath. Alarmed by how much he had bled, she instantly went to heal his wounds as he sat before her too tired to speak.

_Eridor and Thorn are trying to dig out Faust's body for your swords Eragon, _said Saphira. Her rider nodded, wincing when Arya's fingers glided over a punctured wound in his right shoulder. Reaching for her magic, she healed the broke skin and continued onwards to examine his entire torso to make sure she had not missed an injury. While she worked in silence Saphira continued to explain the situation to Eragon. _Lord Tábor was captured by Murtagh and Roran. Nasuada has received an official surrender from the forces here and is moving to secure the city._

Saphira paused and Arya could feel the guilt tinged in her thoughts of how she was not able to fight with Eragon against Faust when he was her rider. Seeming to sense it as well, Eragon spoke tilting his head to look up at her. "I knew you were there with me. Besides, Faust is dead now. He will not be troubling us anymore."

"What happened to him?" asked Arya curiously as she bent down to help him remove the rest of his armor. She healed the cuts on his legs and the wound in his foot as he spoke telling her that after she had lost consciousness he had fought Faust and had managed to stab him in the gut with Vrangr. Then when Faust sought to kill him with a spell, suddenly appearing from nowhere his mother had come and she had delivered the final blow to the magician stabbing him through the heart with Brisingr. At the end of his explanation, Arya stared at Eragon and could see the pride in his eyes at his mother's actions.

She had forgotten that Selena was once one of the most feared Black Hands of the time, doing missions so dangerous that not even a proud warrior would do. Seeing her protected by Eragon and Murtagh and mothering Ella had made her appearance deceptive. It was hard to imagine that the sweet, chestnut haired woman was capable of deeds so horrendous that they could not even be spoken about aloud. Blinking as she stared at the now healed but still tremendously bloodied Eragon, Arya sighed with a soft smile stretching on her lips as she thought of his family. She should have expected as much.

Reaching forward, she wrapped her arms about him and embraced him for a moment. "You can let go of your past now Eragon," she murmured softly as Saphira's shadow danced about them, sparkling in the sapphire hues of her scales. "Faust is dead— killed by your swords. You can move on now Eragon."

She felt his hands come up to wrap about her shoulders as he pulled her to him. He was trembling Arya realized as she held him in her arms, his head buried in the crook of her neck. She felt a cool wetness against her heated skin and knew that he was crying but she did not say anything. She merely held him and let him cry in relief and gladness. Eragon may be stoic and oftentimes a cold warrior but he still had emotions. Letting her fingers run through his hair, she felt his tears abate until he was quietly cradled against her.

"Eragon!" hearing Murtagh's shout startled them. Releasing Eragon, she stood helping him to do so as well since he was rather weak on his feet having used his wards and strength to prevent them from being crushed by the rubble. Turning they caught sight of Murtagh and Selena running towards them. Despite her age and the fact that she had given birth thrice, she moved swiftly and confidently dressed in her brown leather gear.

Arya was struck with how different she looked. She still had her motherly disposition but it was dangerous now. Hurrying to Eragon, she pulled her much taller son down to embrace him her face looking pained at his bloodied appearance. "Are you hurt Eragon?" she asked pulling away to take hold of his face in her hands which was once more coated in blood.

"No, Arya healed me," said Eragon as he stared down at his mother regaining his composure. Selena turned to Arya with a grateful look.

"Thank you Arya," she said sincerely as the elf merely inclined her head. She could not imagine the woman before her wielding Brisingr expertly in her hands delivering the final blow to Faust in order to extract the revenge for her son's past tortures. It was just too deceiving.

"Why are you here on the battlefield?" asked Eragon after Selena pulled away.

"There is no need to take that tone with me young man," she said with a frown. "I may let you smother me Eragon but do not forget that I have had my fair share in battles. I can handle myself quite well."

"That was before Murtagh was born," said Eragon shaking his head, "Near two decades ago."

"Skill does not necessarily fade with time," she said with a smile. "I was a Black Hand. How did you think I managed to sneak past your father's guard and join you here?"

"Father does not know?" asked Murtagh in surprise.

"Of course not," said Selena as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Shaking her head at the scene. Arya picked her way through the rubble and found the hilt of Támerlein protruding from underneath a small mound of stone. Reaching down, she pulled her sword free of the stone and sheathed it glad to have it back. Glancing at the rubble in the center of the main hall, she walked forward where Thorn and Eridor were crouched their eyes fixed on something.

_What is it? _Asked Arya as she neared them. Eridor lifted his head towards her and his tongue darted out to lick her on the side of her face. She spared him a smile as her fingers danced across his snout watching as his head bobbed at the sight of her well and unharmed.

_You should take a look. _

Her eyes followed where he was staring. In the hole that they dug was a lone figure on his knees, two blades protruding from its white robes. Arya blinked. She was not staring at Faust but rather at the skeleton of Faust. Pulsing from the portion where the gut was, Vrangr was emitting an eerie glow. It was justice delivered thought Arya as she jumped down into the hole taking a look at the skeleton. Vrangr had taken revenge for its master. It had sucked the life from Faust and even then refused to let the man rest and had dissolved his body in its thirst for his blood.

Her feet splashed the blood that coated the ground as she stopped before Faust. She could tell from the way his skeleton was positioned that Faust died without any regrets. He lived his life the way he wanted it and was not afraid of death. There was a sound behind her and she turned to find Eragon walking towards her. He stared at the skeleton with a hard expression as if he was not sure what to make of the skeleton.

"It is done," he said eventually as he reached forward to pull his sword free. Vrangr pulsed once more as Eragon sheathed it, the blade at ease in its scabbard and back at its owner's side. Staring at Brisingr, the sword who had killed his tormentor Eragon too sheathed the sapphire blade. "I regret that I was not able to deliver the final blow…but my mother deserves it more than I do I believe."

"Any mother would wish vengeance against the tormentor of their child," said Arya softly as she drew close to his side, "A reason why her love for Morzan faded with the cruelty he dealt to Murtagh." He nodded, staring at him for a long moment, she sighed taking his hand in hers.

"Is there something amiss?" asked Eragon his eyes still on Faust's skeleton.

"Nasuada shall be waiting for our report," she glanced about the rubble which had buried the hundreds of corpses underneath its weight. She could smell the stench of blood rising above the other smells and gently tugged on Eragon's hand. "Let us go Eragon."

The two of them climbed up and out of the ditch and rejoined Selena and Murtagh as well as Blödhgarm and the others. In Invidia's arms was Eragon's armor. He murmured a thanks to the elf and took his armor in hand looking more tired than ever. She wanted to find a place for him to wash and sleep but she knew that Nasuada did not like to be kept waiting.

"Mother you should return to Father's side, I am sure he was beside himself with worry," said Murtagh to the older woman. She merely turned to her son and instead shook her head. Before her eldest son could open his mouth to argue, she spoke.

"Your father will know I am fine," said Selena with a slight smile, "Had anything happened to me, I assume you and your brother will burn down all of Dras-Leona for vengeance." Arya smiled slightly imagining both Murtagh and Eragon running throughout the city destroying everything in their way if anything had befallen their mother.

"Some husband he is if he does not realize his wife is off fighting," muttered Eragon darkly as Selena merely smiled unperturbed by her son's emotions.

"You would have to thank Ella for that Eragon," said Selena as they began to make their way out of the keep into the streets which was now much calmer due to the lack of battle. "She can be a very demanding baby. You and Arya should stop by after you've cleaned up after yourselves. I believe she is rather fond of you two."

"We shall see," said Eragon as they walked through the streets. It was still bustling with the Varden's soldiers but the Empire's men were few and little in number no doubt having surrendered earlier. On their way to find Nasuada, they found Rosalie sitting on a broke wall clutching at her leg as she spoke hurriedly to Angela, the herbalist. Catching sight of them, Angela immediately beckoned them over despite Rosalie's embarrassment.

"What is the matter?" Eragon asked immediately upon seeing his servant's pain. He crouched and as if it was a normal occurrence reached out to take hold of Rosalie's leg to examine. The moment he touched the limb, she cried out softly.

"Do not aggravate the wound," Angela said sharply swatting his hand away. Arya glanced at the herbalist, who appeared as if she was back to her original disposition. Though Angela could be tiresome to deal with, the witch was now her savior. "You will only do to cause her pain if you move her leg too much."

"What is wrong with her leg?" asked Eragon standing though his eyes moving to stare at the herbalist. Angela reached down to shift the leggings on her left leg to show her skin now darken, oozing a black liquid from a large gash in her thigh. Arya looked at the injury in alarm. It did not look simple enough for them to heal with magic.

"A magician had thought to leave a lasting impression on her," said Angela with a frown. "I would say that this is complex magic that eats away at the wound. I can easily remove the poison but if we do not hurry the wound will fester and Rosalie may lose her leg altogether."

"What will you have me do?" asked Eragon without hesitation. Arya did not miss the look of gratitude on Rosalie's face as she stared up at him. Angela studied Eragon for a long moment before she shook her head. Seemingly affronted by her, Eragon raised a brow. "You believe that I cannot heal my own servant?"

"The magic requires involves a complex manipulation of flesh," said Angela with a frown. Her eyes darted to the twelve elves that guarded Murtagh and she gestured for Blödhgarm to join them. "Seeing as you have turned yourself into a wolf-elf I believe that you have the skill it requires to help me heal Rosalie's leg. Now come if you will."

Arya nodded to Blödhgarm and the elf came forward, his amber eyes staring down at Rosalie. He crouched and took her leg in his hands causing her to wince. Interestedly watching Blödhgarm, she saw an expression cross his face as he tried to the best of his abilities to handle Rosalie's injury gently. After a moment of closely examining the wound he nodded, "It will take some time but I am able to heal her leg."

"Good then it is all settled," said Angela with a beaming smile as she reached down and patted Rosalie on the shoulder. When none of them made to move, Angela began to wave them away, "Hurry on! I am sure you all are needed elsewhere rather than gawking at Rosalie."

After Eragon wished his servant well they moved on to find Nasuada in a stone building towards the center of the city. It was hard not to miss her location seeing as a battalion was standing guard amongst the streets to guard their leader. They had found Nasuada in a conference with various advisers and when they had joined her they were locked up in the building in a discussion that lasted for a few hours. Arya could feel her patience waning and by the end of the of the discussion they had contacted her mother to inform her that the Varden had captured Dras-Leona.

It was a tiring and irritating discussion thought Arya later that night as she was resting on her cot merely lying across the sheets staring up at the peaked roof of her tent. She had never felt so exhausted after a battle before. Closing her eyes, she laid there thinking of the day's events.

After the capture of Dras-Leona, Nasuada had surprised everyone by insisting that the Varden not stay the night in the city. She had given no explanation for her decision, but Arya knew that it was because the leader was restless. They had tarried for days before the gates of Dras-Leona and if they did not march onto Urû'baen in due time they would be faced with the winter that was slowly inching its way about Alagaësia. When that came all hope of capturing Urû'baen would be buried with the chilling snow. An army such as theirs could not survive the winter she knew that as well as the next person.

Once the Varden had secured the streets, Nasuada detailed a number of warriors to remain in the city, under the command of Martland Redbeard. Then the Varden had left Dras-Leona and marched north, following the shore of Leona Lake. Along the way, a constant stream of messengers had ridden back and forth between the Varden and Dras-Leona as Martland and Nasuada conferred about the numerous issues attending the governance of the city.

She sighed once more before reaching over to the side of her cot. Rummaging through her belongings she pulled out a wooden flask. Removing the stopper from the flask she let the smell of strong, sweet liqueur wash over her nose. Staring at the wooden flask that contained faelnirv, a gift from her mother before she had left for the Varden, she brought it to her lips and drank. The flavor of the liqueur burst in her mouth sweet and strong before traveling down her throat, the coolness of it spreading through her body. Exhaling, she propped herself on her elbow and thought of the past few days which seemed like an eternity to her.

She had gone from trying to breach Dras-Leona to being captured to fearing for her life to once more turning the tides of fate and fighting in the battle for the city. _Wyrda, what a fickle thing it is. _She took another drink of the liquid feeling her body relax. She had gone from being forcibly touched by Faust to staring down at his skeleton in a matter of mere hours. Closing her eyes, she fought to push away the icy grip that threatened to claw at her as she remembered her time in the chamber hanging from the manacles. How helpless she had felt, like how she had felt in Gil'ead. The only difference was that she was not alone.

It was like a century. Now when she was able to think quietly she could only remember the coldness of the chamber and how her heart felt ready to give out at the thought of being eaten alive by the Ra'zac due to their need for vengeance against Murtagh. Eragon had been quite displeased by that fact and had made it a point to tell Murtagh that if he had any type of vengeance hovering over his head not to involve them. A slight laugh escaped her as she remembered the conversation while they were dining with Eragon's parents as well as Ella, who watched on curiously in her mother's arms.

_Family. _

Arya blinked, her skin feeling hot as she laid on her cot. Her thoughts were wandering as she let the liqueur overtake her mind. Even though she did not want to think of it, her mother came back to the forefront in her mind and she thought of the conversation she had with Queen Islanzadí but a few hours ago when they made camp. While she was giving her report, she had wanted to desperately ask how her mother was, whether she was well, whether she was lonely, whether she had rested or ate recently. But nothing came, it felt as if her mouth refused to say such words. The most important questions she wanted to ask her were ones that she did not have the courage of saying.

_Can we ever truly be happy mother despite our choices in life? Will you not support me? _

She had wanted to ask her but could not do so. There was an insincerity about speaking of family matters over a spell. It was difficult thought Arya her thoughts growing disjointed. While she spoke to her mother she thought of Eragon's mother and how she had charged into battle, looking for her son. She had taken up his sword and had killed his tormentor. She had freed Eragon from his past despite the danger it posed. She had still done it. _Would you have done that for me mother? _

If she was in a normal state of mind, Arya would never let such thoughts fester and take hold of her. But she was now in the hands of faelnirv and her mind was flowing freely. Thoughts of Durza and her imprisonment washed over her and she shivered slightly feeling the ghost of his maroon eyes on her. When her mother had found out that she was ambushed, she had withdrew and had not sought to determine whether or not her only daughter was alive. She had believed her dead, she had left her for dead.

_No, that's not true. She was in grief, _a part of her argued trying to be heard over her other thoughts. That was true, her mother was in grief. Having lost her mate a century earlier and now her only daughter. A century may seem long to humans but to elves it was comparable to a year. It passed by too quickly.

_You were expendable to her Arya. She did not come for you. She did not fight for you not like how Selena fought for Eragon, _another part of her said and her heart hurt at the words. She blinked and took another long drink of her faelnirv.

It could not be denied though. Her mother did not come for her and that was the hard fact. She, Queen Islanzadí, the strongest of their people had left Arya at the mercy of the Shade, Durza. It was petty to compare her to Selena but her mind did so despite her best abilities to reel in her thoughts. Human, aged, and mother of three children, Selena had took a chance and had avenged Eragon at the hands of Faust. Was her mother not as strong as Selena? It was almost laughable. Her eyes heavy and half-lidded, Arya sighed leaning back on her elbows as she tilted her neck back closing her eyes to try and clear her mind. It was useless, she had drank too much.

Arya was never one to take comfort in spirits and liqueur but found herself unable to stop drinking as thoughts of the recent days passed over her: Faust, the agonizing pain of her right hand, the possibility of being eaten alive, and her mother. She blinked when she heard the tent flap shift. Despite her very relaxed state and haze that had settled over her mind, she could still make out the noises about her a great feat in of itself.

Her eyes trailed up from the booted feet that walked into the tent, the clean dark breeches, the naked torso still glistening with water, the strong neck, and the tousled chestnut hair that framed a handsome face in which brown eyes peered at her in apparent surprise. Eragon stared at her and raised a brow, "Are you drunk Arya?"

She shook her head and smiled at him feeling her blood pulse at the sight of him. He looked very warm compared to her cold, dark thoughts. His warmth was very inviting thought Arya lazily as she watched Eragon continue into the tent. She saw him place his swords on the table beside Támerlein and watch as he removed his boots sitting down on a stool by the table. She had the urge to reach out to him but was positive that the moment she moved from the cot she would be unsteady and unable to reach him.

Instead, her mind settled for a passive approach. "Will you not join me Eragon?" she smiled at him, showing her strong white teeth in what she knew was an alluring smile to him. He blinked as she expected and he stood moving over to the cot to where she was leaning propped on her elbows. The moment he was close enough she leaned over and wrapped an arm about his waist pressing her lips against his stomach feeling too tipsy to actually rise up and give him a proper one.

He was warm she thought as his strong hands reached down to grip her shoulders. Very warm and comforting unlike anyone else. He was not like her mother, not like her companions, not like Faölin and Glenwing, and dare she say it he was different to Eridor. Eridor was her bonded partner for life but Eragon was her bonded for eternity. Their souls were bound together and that would mean even in death they would be together. It was heartwarming to know that she was never alone.

Her senses failing her, she blinked when she saw that Eragon was lying stretched out beside her, staring down at her with warm eyes. He reached forward and took the near empty flask of faelnirv from her hands. She did not stop him and watched as he put the flask to his lips and drank the rest of the contents. The flask now empty he took the stopper from the bed, placed it on the flash and set it to the side. She watched him studying him intently as her body hummed with the liqueur.

"You should lie down," she heard Eragon speak to her through the fevered haze. Not questioning him she did so as he propped himself up on his elbow beside her and she was glad that he was next to her, the heat of his body calming her mind. "What were you thinking of? You felt rather upset."

"The last few days," said Arya honestly and then she chuckled not knowing what it was that prompted it. "How fate is tenacious."

"It can be," agreed Eragon reaching out to let his fingers glide along her cheeks which she knew was burning from the force of the faelnirv, she was tipsy after all. "You can tell me Arya whatever it is that is bothering you."

She was quiet for a moment before she said quietly, "My mother."

He fell silent, his fingers pausing as they glided over her arms. He stared down at her and Arya stared back trying to reel in her thoughts before she said something that she could not take back. Instead, Eragon shift until his body was touching hers and he leaned down covering her with him once more. It was unlike how it was when they were buried in the rubble earlier. Their armor had separated them but now with only her leather clothing between their body, she felt the heat of his skin against hers and reached up with her right hand to place it over his heart as he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against her jaw line causing her to shift underneath him.

She was not sure if it was an effect of the faelnirv but his touch made her body feel feverish. "What about you mother?" asked Eragon softly his breath washing over her neck. Her eyes nearly closed at the sensation.

"The difference between her and your mother," said Arya. He paused above her and she heard him chuckle. She blinked not sure why it was that he found her words amusing. Half annoyed despite the relaxed state of her body she was about to push him off to sit up and spear him with a hard stare but he shifted until his legs bore down on hers and she was too drunk to muster the strength to resist him.

"Do not take offense Arya," murmured Eragon as he lifted his head to stare down into her. "Our mothers are inherently different, there is no argument about that. However, they are both very much the same."

Her heart thudded in her chest as she asked in an almost anxious voice as if carving the answer to her struggles with her mother from Eragon, "How so?"

"They both love their children very much and would do anything for them," said Eragon. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed as she laid underneath him. Unable to help herself, her feelings, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. "They just have different ways of showing it." He leaned down and kissed away her tear an action that touched her. "Do not question what your mother feels for you Arya. You have taught me that bitterness is a choice after all, do not forget." When she made no move to answer him, he continued. "Once we reach Urû'baen, let us amend the rifts between the two of you. Let us not forget that one day, she will be the grandmother of our children."

Even faelnirv could not staunch out her emotions as his words. A sob left her lips and the past few days came crashing down on her. Unable to control her actions due to the faelnirv, she cried for what was and what should have been. She wanted a family just like Eragon's despite the problems that they had. Only a handful of days in her life had she been able to spend with her mother and now, faced with Urû'baen she was deathly afraid that she would never have the chance to do make amends with her mother.

She felt Eragon reach down and wound his hand underneath her head to hold her face against his chest so she could cry against him. "Do not worry Arya," she heard him murmur softly. She wanted to pull away and wipe away her own tears, and not rely on Eragon but she couldn't—didn't. Instead, she clutched him to her letting his warmth envelope her and his arms encircle her.

When her grief had subsided, she was left aching inside. Her fingers digging into his shoulders, she pulled herself up to him ignoring the haze that still cloaked her. She kissed him roughly whispering against his lips, "Eragon…make love to me."

His arms shifted about her and she felt herself being laid gently back onto her back. She felt him above her and one by one her clothes slipped away. The cool air made her want to shiver but when Eragon's warm body covered hers, she could only feel the heat of his skin against her as he lavished his attention over her body. Her senses which were blanketed by the faelnirv was bombarded with his touch. He was thorough in making her forget about her dark thoughts. All she could think about was how his hands felt on her breasts, how his lips glided over her shoulders, how he filled her and how in the moment of pure bliss her back arched pressing against him as she clawed at his back, jolts of pleasure surging through her body.

Sweat covering her body, she let Eragon pulled her against him her back against his chest his legs intertwining with hers causing their mixed release to leak out onto her thighs but she did not give much mind to the sticky liquid. She could only think of how truly at ease she felt as her breathing returned to norm.

"Let us sleep and let us sleep well and long," she heard Eragon murmur against her, his hand coming around and laying against her stomach. Instinctively, she reached down and intertwined his hand in hers.

"I have to wake at dawn and join Nasuada for a conference though," she said softly, still elated and humming from earlier despite her still hazy mind, an indication that the faelnirv was still influencing her.

He shifted against her, his sweaty chest pressed against her back before he grumbled against her hair: "Nasuada is a slave driver."

Faelnirv still pulsing through her body, she relaxed against him underneath their sheets and could only think of how alive she felt. Compared to the earlier cold emptiness that plagued her, she felt alive and fulfilled as if the last few days had not happened. Closing her eyes, she let her exhaustion wash over her, glad to rest. Behind her, she felt the steady beat of Eragon's heart against her back beating in time with hers—proof that they were alive.

**And so they finally rest after everything these last few chapters. A key thing in this chapter I hope you've all realized is how in this story Eragon and Arya parallel each other quite much and how they seem to be after the same things but in roundabout ways. It's been my goal all this time to make their relationship like that. So in essence through each other they are able to achieve their dreams and such. Cliche but meaningful. As always, I like to give depth to the characters and so this chapter is dedicated to our heroes. Besides that, everyone work on 2,000 reviews! So close peoples. And...I think that's it. Oh wait to address the possibility of Selena appearing more often...I shall give it some thought. But as one of you reviewers have pointed out there is a lot on my plate hahaha. Anyways, I'll see you all soon! **

**P.S.-I like Blodhgarm and Rosalie together by the way. Makes for a very cute couple I believe. Oh Rosalie will you just accept his feelings already? **


	90. Chapter 86

Chapter 86

**As per usual, business as always. Anyways, I do not own anything to do with Inheritance-all CP's work (standard disclaimer). Oh, a special thank you to the 2,000 review mark! I would like to thank the reader/reviewer Joda-Eragonsson for being the 2000th reviewer! Ding! Ding! Ding! You have won a prize which is this chapter! Hahaha. But seriously thanks for making it reach 2,000 reviews everyone. Let's make it the top reviewed story in the Inheritance Cycle next! To be truthful when I first started out this story, I did not believe it would receive this much love but it did and I'm rather grateful. Anyways everyone R&R! **

"Do you ever cry?" Eragon asked as he stared down at his baby sister as she laid on her back on the cot before him. She merely blinked, her large blue eyes staring up at him. Ella was now only a few months old and yet he had rarely heard a cry from her. His sister laid between his legs as he sat leaning over her smiling when she reached up and placed a hand on his nose, her small fingers curling about the bridge trying to get a grip on the smooth skin. "You are a beautiful baby Ella."

She blinked up at him as he reached down and gently ran a hand through her sparse chestnut hair that barely covered the top of her head. With a slender finger, he pressed softly against her plump cheek watching as her eyes crinkled and she let out a joyful sound. "Do you know who I am Ella?" asked Eragon as he stared down at her. She opened her soft pink lips and smacked them together making a rather adorable sound. He nodded satisfied with her reaction. How could his baby sister not know who he was? "I am your older brother, Eragon."

He reached down and tickled her stomach watching as she squirmed underneath his feather light touch squealing. He smiled as Ella happily giggled up at him. Despite the war going on about them, his baby sister was such a joyful baby. As he stared down at Ella, he wondered whether or not Elva would have been like his sister had she not been cursed by Murtagh. After a long moment, Eragon sighed as he reached down and took one of Ella's small hands in his letting her wrap her fingers around the index finger of his right hand.

"Nasuada keeps on taking Arya away from me Ella," Eragon complained to his baby sister as she listened to him no doubt only hearing his voice as opposed to his words. "Now she is making mother and father attend the meetings together to plan strategies into Urû'baen. She is stealing away your parents too Ella."

She merely blinked up at him. What did he expect thought Eragon to himself as he stared at his sister. His eyes trailed down her chubby arm to her wrist where the silver vine like tattoo was. He knew without a doubt that when Ella matured, she would become a force to be reckoned with. Endowed with beauty, strength, and knowledge she would become a female unlike others her age. Brom was going to have quite much to deal with thought Eragon wryly. After a moment of merely staring at her, he glanced about his tent not sure what it was that he wanted to do.

Arya had been spirited away from his side once more by her early morning conferences with Nasuada that lasted for hours and he was starting to irk waking up without her beside him. Having nothing to do, Eragon had decided to spend some time with Ella. Despite the strangeness of his appearance, Ella was completely at ease with him and was content to stay with him until their parents came for her. After a long moment, Eragon gently tugged his fingers from Ella's hand and smiled down at her as she opened her mouth as if to protest.

"Would you like me to read you a story Ella?" asked Eragon reaching over the cot to grab his bags. He rummaged through it and his hands clasped about the large spine of the book that Brom had given to him some time back. He pulled _Domia abr Wyrda. _He stared at the book. It was clearly not a book to read to babies to occupy them. He could try singing lullabies but he had no knowledge of any. "It is a rather historical volume but I believe you will like it Ella."

He paused wondering if he would read such a book to his own daughter if he had one. It seemed like a cruel way to treat a baby in his opinion—to subject them to the history of Alagaësia before they were a year old. He wondered what Arya would think. Would that be a poor showing of a father? He stared back at Ella as she laid before him content and relaxed. Confident that his baby sister would not mind such a reading, he reached for her gently picking her up his hand coming about to support her head since the bones in her neck was still developing. Shifting her in his grip, he held her in a standing position and watch as she reflexively moved her legs as if to walk.

He smiled at her widely leaning forward to kiss her on her nose as she giggled. Wrapping an arm about her small body, she shifted until Ella was resting in the crook of his arm staring up at him. "I promise this will not be a bore," said Eragon as he flipped the book open to a random page to read not minding the chapter. Letting the book rest in his lap and Ella in the crook of his left arm he focused his attention on the chapter and started reading aloud to her.

…_The island is remarkably temperate compared with areas of the mainland at the same latitude. Summers are often cool and rainy, but then the winters are mild and tend not to assume the brutal cold of the northern reaches of the Spine, which means the crops could be grown for a goodly portion of the year. By all accounts, the soil is rich and fertile—the one benefit of the fire mountains that are known to erupt from time to time and cover the island with a thick layer of ash—and the forests were full of large game such as the dragons preferred to hunt, including many species not found elsewhere in Alagaësia._

"Are you still awake Ella?" asked Eragon staring at his baby sister who appeared to be listening to his, enrapt in his voice. She gurgled slightly against him showing him that she was still awake and he smiled. _Well, if she was still awake. This might not be such a bore to her. _

Turning back to the page Eragon continued on to the next paragraph:

_It was there, in the great cauldron at the center of Vroengard, that the Riders built their far-famed city, Doru Araeba._

_Doru Araeba! The only city in history designed to house dragons as well as elves and humans. Doru Araeba! A place of magic and learning and ancient mysteries. Doru Araeba! The very name seems to hum with excitement. Never was there a city like it before, and never shall there be again, for not it is lost, destroyed—ground to dust by the usurper Galbatorix._

_The buildings were constructed in elvish style—with some influence from human Riders in later years—but out of stone, not wood; wooden buildings, as must be obvious to the reader, fared poorly around creatures with razor-sharp claws and the ability to breathe fire. The most notable feature of Doru Araeba, however was its enormous scale. Every street was wide enough for at least two dragons to walk abreast, and with few exceptions, rooms and doorways were large enough to accommodate dragons of most any size._

_As a result, Doru Araeba was a vast, sprawling affair, dotted with buildings of such immense proportions, even a dwarf would have been impressed. Gardens and fountains were common throughout the city, an account of the elves' impressible love of nature, and there were many soaring towers among the Rider's hall and holds._

_Upon the peaks surrounding the city, the Riders placed watchtower and eyries—to guard against attack—and more than one dragon and Rider had a well-appointed high cave in the mountains, where they lived apart from the rest of their order. The older, larger dragons were especially partial to the arrangement, as they often preferred solitude, and living above the floor of the cauldron made it easier for them to take flight. _

Eragon blinked staring down at the pages feeling slightly irritated as his eyes ached at the cramped runes on the pages. He already knew what the city of Doru Araeba looked like having made a replication of it at the Agaetí Blödhren. He glanced down at Ella, who was still wide awake as she stared up at him with her wide and curious eyes. Eragon paused forgetting about the book as he stared down at his baby sister wondering what it was that was going through her mind at the moment. She appeared strangely curious and as the temperate baby that she was, she did not cry or make the least bit of sound as he read.

"Are you enjoying this Ella?" Eragon asked her watching as she blinked, her expression never changing. Only believing that his sister did not mind his reading, he blinked and turned back to the large tome resting open in his lap. He did not enjoy the dry historical recordings in the book and had enjoyed the more detailed descriptions back at Ellesmeŕa. Running his fingers down the page until he found his place, Eragon continued reading.

_The city contained many marvels, from the Singing Fountain of Eldimírim to the crystal fortress of Svellhjall to the rookeries of the dragons themselves, but for all their splendor, I believe that Doru Araeba's greatest treasure was its library. Not, as one might assume, because of its imposing structure—although it was indeed imposing—but because over the centuries the Riders collected one of the most comprehensive stores of knowledge in the whole of the land. By the time of the Rider's fall, there were only three libraries that rivaled it—that of Ilirea, that of Ellesmeŕa, and that of Tronjheim—and none of those three contained as much information about the workings of magic as did the one in Doru Araeba._

_The library was located on the northwestern edge of the city, near the gardens that surrounded Moraeta's Spite, also known as the Rock of Kuthian (see chapter twelve), and not far from the high seat, where the leaders of the Riders held court when various kinds and queens came to petition them. _

He was about to keep reading but stopped when his mind processed the words that he had just read. He reread the sentence. _The Rock of Kuthian…_Suddenly Solembum's advice returned to him. Advice that he had told him long ago.

_When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the vault of souls._

He stared back at the pages. Was this mere coincidence? Now with them marching on the gates of Urû'baen, the Rock of Kuthian was brought back to the surface. He thought of Solembum's advice and how it led to him receiving his swords from the brightsteel that resided underneath the roots of the Menoa Tree. _No, this was not mere coincidence. _Eragon felt a chill run down his spine. There was someone out there that had seen to it that he would follow Solembum's words. Someone had arranged for him to do so. He stared at the page.

The Rock of Kuthian was found on Vroengard. It contained the vault of souls something that would help him. But what could it be? He felt a migraine begin to claw its way to the forefront as he thought of the many riddles about him. The Rock of Kuthian…The true name of Alagaësia…The key to the sanctum…Riddles upon riddles and when the final battle was lurking on the horizon. It was like a game thought Eragon.

A game in which they were all pawns. A gamed called fate.

Irritated, he reached down and flipped through the volume to the indicated chapter where he found the reference to the Kuthian. It was useless, all it said was that Kuthian had been one of the first Riders to explore Vroengard Island. Afterwards, he closed the book and sat staring at it with Ella cradled in his left arm.

There are many strange forces at work in Alagaësia thought Eragon his mind wandering to Areth, spirit he had met. Galbatorix may be their enemy and threat but he may not be the strongest they had yet to face. He frowned and threw _Domia abr Wyrda _to the side feeling as if he might receive another headache merely looking at the runes on the spine.

Another thought ran through his mind. Where did Solembum get such advice? He was sure that the werecat did not know it himself. He must have come across it somewhere. But if he knew, would he tell Eragon? Letting out a frustrated groan, Eragon squeezed his eyes shut painfully and reached up to run a hand over his face. What was he supposed to do? Abandon the Varden when they were but weeks away from marching directly onto Urû'baen to go traipsing across Alagaësia and the ocean to explore Vroengard?

_It could be a trap. _

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he frowned. It certainly did not seem like one though. Whoever it was that gave Solembum the advice to pass onto Eragon, they had given Eragon a means to fight through his swords. He was sure that they meant to give him another means of fighting Galbatorix through the Vault of Souls. Could he trust this person or force? Could he put the fate of Alagaësia on this one whim?

It seemed ridiculous to him thought Eragon frustrated as he sat there shifting Ella slightly in case she was uncomfortable remaining in the same position for so long. Whoever gave Solembum this advice, or wherever Solembum came across it they did well to remain hidden. Then another thought occurred to him. He had told both Arya and their teachers, Oromis and Glaedr about the Rock of Kuthian. It should have been obvious to both Oromis and Glaedr where the Rock of Kuthian was for they had resided on Vroengard Island during the time of the Riders. They should have known the name the moment Eragon told them and yet when he did they gave no recollection of having heard it. Then there was Arya, who was wise and knowledgeable in her own right. She would have surely come across the name in her studies when she was younger. She would have heard of it but she too did not know its origins.

Someone had managed to fool Arya as well as Oromis and Glaedr, all three powerful in their own right. His earlier trepidation returned to him. Was this force strong enough to oppose Galbatorix? Strong enough to hoodwink all of Alagaësia? If they could fool the elves, a race so powerful, then they could be a force to be reckoned with. The only problem was, Eragon did not know whether or not he should trust in the words that the werecat told him. He could convince Nasuada to give him leave to fly to Vroengard and see to the Rock of Kuthian or he could ignore this advice and resume their march on Urû'baen and face Galbatorix without the knowledge or power that the Rock of Kuthian could provide. There was much to gain and lose in this situation.

Sighing he glanced down at Ella. His sister was peering up at him waiting for him to speak no doubt believing that he might read to her more. Eragon reached up and took her small hand in his. "What am I supposed to do Ella?" asked Eragon a small part of him hoping that she could just make the decision for him. But as expected of a baby, she merely smiled up at him opening her mouth as she laughed. "At least someone is at ease."

After a long moment, he decided to reach out with his mind until he found the distinctive feel of Solembum's mind. _Solembum, _said Eragon as the werecat opened his mind to him, _I need your assistance. If you would please come to my tent. _

After a moment, he felt a grudging acknowledgment from the werecat, and he severed the connection waiting for Solembum's arrival. As he waited he spent his time playing Ella, who was slowly growing drowsy. He smiled at his sister before gently laying her on his pillow. "Time to rest little one," said Eragon fondly. She did not say anything but merely blinked twice before she drifted off into her sleep. Watching Ella for another long moment, he nuzzled her cheek with his nose and pulled back to wait for Solembum to arrive and for him to speak with the werecat.

Over a quarter of an hour passed before the flap to Eragon's and Arya's tent stirred and Solembum pushed his way inside, his padded feet nearly silent upon the ground. The tawny werecat walked past Eragon who was now sitting on a stool as he watched Ella sleep. He jumped onto the cot and Eragon repressed the urge to toss him to the ground since he did not want the werecat anywhere near Ella as she slept afraid that she might be uncomfortable with his fur so close. But Eragon refrained seeing as Solembum had come on his request to do so. Settled upon the blankets, the werecat began to lick his paws. _I am not a dog to come and go at your summons, Eragon. _

"You are a werecat that I now and I have never thought of you as anything else," Eragon replied as he stared at Solembum. "But there is a matter that I have need of you to ask."

_Speak then, Shadeslayer. What do you want?_

"It has concerns to do with the advice you gave me back in Tronjheim. You told me, Solembum, that when all seemed lost and my power was insufficient, I should go to the Rock of Kuthian and open the Vault of Souls."

The werecat paused in his licking, fixing him with a piercing stare. _I remember. _

Already suspecting what Solembum's answer was, Eragon spoke. "Do you know where you came across such information?" The werecat did not continue licking his paw, he stared at Eragon as if to size him up, his tail lashing from side to side. Then he shook his head.

_I don't know. _

Sighing, Eragon pinched the bridge of his nose. "I expected as much," murmured Eragon as he sat there. Solembum did not know where he had gotten the information only that he had it. Frowning, he wanted to break something but knew that if he did end up unleashing his anger, Arya would be more than upset with him if he were to do so on her items. They did share a tent after all. After a moment, he spoke, "Then why did you tell me Solembum if you do not know the origins of what you know?"

_Soon after the fall of the riders, a certain conviction came upon the members of our race that, should we encounter a new Rider, one who was not behold to Galbatorix, we should tell him or her what I told you: of the Menoa tree and the Rock of Kuthian. _

"But you did not tell Murtagh or Arya of such advice," Eragon pointed out curiously.

_As the leaders of the Riders and the most obvious of our hopes, I decided that it was you that I would tell such information to. Of course, I am only speaking for myself. I do not know if Murtagh or Arya have been told the same by any other members of my race. _

"I see," murmured Eragon he paused as another thought occurred to him, "So your entire race does not know who gave you such advice? Every werecat's memory was altered to hide the origins of the riddles you have told me."

_It makes my hair stand but what you said is correct. Though we have tried to the best of our abilities to discern who it was that told us of such things, we failed to do so. There are two possibilities. One, that our memories were altered against our will and we are the pawns of some nefarious entity. Or two, that we agreed to the alteration, for whatever reason. Perhaps we even excised the memories ourselves. _

_An entire race…_thought Eragon ill at ease. He could no longer ignore the signs. Someone wanted him to approach the Rock of Kuthian and he was going to do so. It was arranged for him to visit the Vault of Souls, there was something there that would help him. Or that was what he hoped for at the very least. After a long moment, Eragon nodded. "Thank you Solembum, I believe I have my answers now."

_Answers? Since you have asked from me it is only right that I ask from you. Do tell what it is that you are planning Shadeslayer, _Solembum said curiously. The werecat was someone Eragon had always considered as a friend. He had saved both him and Arya from Dras-Leona alongside Angela and he was grateful. Knowing that Solembum was not one that was easily fooled with the exception of this certain predicament, Eragon spoke. "In my readings of _Domia abr Wyrda," _he gestured to the voluminous book. "I came across a page that spoke about the Rock of Kuthian on Vroengard Island…What struck me was that my teachers in Ellesmeŕa was well as Arya, all of whom should have known about the Rock of Kuthian, did not recognize the name. It appears Solembum that the werecats were not the only ones who had their memories altered."

_Whoever it is that is behind this, _said Solembum with narrowed eyes, _they are not a force to be taken lightly. They have the power to alter the minds of two races that are old and powerful. Whatever it is that resides in the Rock of Kuthian, they wanted to protect it greatly. _

"I understand now," Eragon nodded before he sat straighter, "In any event, thank you Solembum. It may not be an answer that I was looking for but it has helped to clear some of the mystery regarding this advice." Solembum nodded. He remained on Eragon's cot for but a moment longer before he jumped down and made his way for the tent flap.

_In the event that you leave for the Rock of Kuthian Shadeslayer, walk softly. _

And then the werecat slipped out of the tent and vanished from sight. Watching him leave, Eragon turned back to muddle of thoughts that were fighting to be heard. He could not go to Arya for help for she, like the werecats, was affected by some sort of magic that had prevented her from recognizing the Rock of Kuthian. At the thought of that, he felt rage well up within him. He did not like the thought of someone tempering with Arya's memories and her mind. It made him feel ill at ease and the more he thought of how the elves and werecats were hoodwinked, he could not help but feel resentful towards whoever it was that was guarding the information regarding the Vault of Souls.

If they had gone to such lengths to alter the minds of two of the more powerful races in Alagaësia, that mean that they had something to guard. He did not think it was Galbatorix. The thought seemed very unlikely. No, Galbatorix was too infatuated with the idea of learning the true name of the ancient language. He wanted to control the use of magic and make himself the true magician of Alagaësia. He was not searching for the Rock of Kuthian. That would only mean that whoever it was that made sure that Eragon received this advice, wanted to hide the Rock of Kuthian and the Vault of Souls from Galbatorix. What could it possibly be?

Then there was the true name of Alagaësia to contend with. Areth had told him that a key existed to awaken Alagaësia from her slumber. She said it existed somewhere in Alagaësia but she like Solembum could not offer much information. She just knew it was there but did not know much else it could be. If he found out the true name of Alagaësia, he could fight Galbatorix with it. But there was no other type of information about the name. He could search every nook and cranny in Alagaësia for centuries and not find what the key—a key the spirits have been searching for far longer than he had been.

_Long before the dawn of civilization. _

He had no hope of finding it within but a few months. Sighing, he glanced at Ella as she started to stir slightly no doubt hungry. Standing from his stool, he strapped Vrangr and Brisingr to him and leaned over the cot to wrap his arms around his baby sister. She weighed nothing in his arms as he tucked her against his chest, placing a hand behind her neck before he exited his tent and made his way towards his parents' tent. Sparing the people around him a few words and nods, he walked with ease making sure that the sun's rays did not irritate Ella and that the cool air would not chill her.

"Mother must be done by now," said Eragon as he walked. "You must be hungry Ella."

He felt her small hand on his chest as if she was agreeing with his words. His earlier irritation started to subside the more he held Ella in his arms. He wondered how his father felt now that he had a daughter. Was this how it felt to be like a father thought Eragon. He thought Arya and knew that she would be a wonderful mother despite her own struggles with her own mother. It had upset her greatly thought Eragon as he remembered how tipsy she was after the battle for Dras-Leona. She had tried not to show it by the faelnirv made it impossible for her to reel in her actions. He had tried his best to comfort her and though he did bring her to bliss, it could only do so much but cloak her pain for a moment only to have it be reopened once more.

He was determined to help her come to terms with her mother before the battle for Urû'baen. He wanted Queen Islanzadí to accept their relationship even if she did not accept her per say. And if they survived and won and Eragon and Arya did go on to have their own family, at this he felt a heat suffuse his cheeks as he walked, he wanted his child or children to be able to seek out Queen Islanzadí as a grandmother and not merely as the queen of the elves. The thought was still far along the road but he thought of it none the less.

His parents tent came into sight and he entered glad to see his mother relaxing on her cot, his father sitting on a stool and reading a scroll with a frown. The moment he entered, they glanced up smiles growing on their face. He spared his father a look before he made his way to his mother and gently placed Ella in her hands. "I think Ella may be hungry," said Eragon as he gingerly handed his sister to their mother watching as Ella latched onto their mother's clothing with her small hands.

"Why don't we give your mother some privacy then?" said Brom as he stood much to his mother's amusement.

"What? It's not like you haven't seen me before and there was a time when Eragon also—"

Before she could finish, Eragon had swept outside her tent much to her laughter followed by his father. When they were outside of the tent, Eragon turned to Brom and for a moment there was a silent pause. After a moment, Brom spoke, "Arya had said that you needed rest," said Brom referring to why Eragon was absent from the meeting this morning. It was decided on by Nasuada and Arya to let Eragon sleep if he was not needed for the conference. It was a blessing in disguise which was slighted with the fact that he woke up alone most of the time rather than with his mate wrapped in his arms.

"I tend to need sleep more so than others," said Eragon not denying his love to sleep. "Though I doubt there was a need of my presence today."

"No, there was not," agreed Brom. He stared at his son as if to study him. "How have you been Eragon? Well, I hope?"

"As well as I can be," Eragon inclined his head. "There's a question that I wanted to ask of you…father." The last word came out slightly strained but he was making an effort after seeing Arya so broken down over her strained relationship with her mother. He saw a slight change in Brom's eyes as he seem to wait on baited breath for him son to speak. "The book you gave me, _Domia abr Wyrda, _I have been reading it well. I wanted to ask why you decided to give it to me."

"Well you are my son and I thought it might be a book that you would not mind reading," a contemplative look overcame Brom's face, "I must admit though. I did have a strong feeling that you should have the book Eragon, the title struck me as something that fit you. I also managed to have Jeod give one of his copies to Murtagh to read."

"I see," murmured Eragon as the pieces started to fall together. There was someone manipulating them. They had even managed to somehow press his father into giving him the book, _Domia abr Wyrda. _He was certain that the strong feeling Brom talked about was not a strong feeling. It was no doubt something else entirely.

"Is something the matter Eragon?"

He shook his head and turned his attentions back to his father, "Have you seen Arya or Murtagh?"

"I believe the two were making their way to the sparring field for another practice together. It is only a few hours past noon," Brom pointed out. Eragon nodded after a moment, he said his farewells to his parents and instead went to search for Murtagh and Arya, his mind reaching for Saphira. He would spend more time with his father later on but there was more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

_The Dominance of Fate, _thought Eragon irritated, _what a fitting title. Fate is the game that we are all playing. Or rather we are the pawns in its games._

**So, I decided not to have Nasuada be captured by Galbatorix because I just didn't want her to be and because in terms of this story without Murtagh as Galbatorix's slave, she would have no one to lean upon while she'd trapped by Galbatorix. So she shall lead the Varden into the final battle as I've always wanted her to. Apart from that, this story is now picking up pace to the end. A few more chapters then the final battle and a few post-war chapters for you all. I have not decided whether or not I shall be writing a post-war story per say since I shall be starting another Inheritance Cycle project that I shall be breaking up into a sort of trilogy if you will. But I will do my best in the wrapping up of this story since it is rather lengthy. Anyways see you soon readers! **

**P.S. I have been thinking of taking a leave of absence soon but I haven't decided when. I shall make sure to announce it all to you so you do not think I've gone AWOL or MIA. Hahaha. It'll probably be a day at most so no need to worry. **

**P.P.S Joda-Eragonsson-2000th Reviewer you have my thanks as does everyone else who has reviewed and brought this story this far. You all have my thanks! **


	91. Chapter 87

Chapter 87

**Cringe...I had to borrow from Inheritance once more but I didn't know how to how to portray this scene any better than it was in the original. Standard Disclaimer-Don't own anything doing with Inheritance but wishful thinking you know? Anyways, I hope you all have fun reading. R&R. **

Flitting through the tents towards the practice field, Eragon was beyond agitated as he thought of what he had learned. As he drew closer to the wide expanse of land, he was not surprise to hear the loud clashes of metal against metal as well as the cries that followed. Keeping his pace measured in case the others became alarmed, he reached out to Saphira finding her consciousness easily amongst the Varden. It appeared as if she was preparing to sleep. _What is it Eragon? _

He did not waste time to explain to her their situation. He told her of how he came across the passage of the Rock of Kuthian while he was spending time with Ella and how when he called Solembum to his tent to ask him that he found that the werecat did not remember where it was he heard the information. By the end of his explanation, Saphira's astonishment was as great as his. She blinked unable to think for a moment.

_They are waiting for us, _said Eragon after a moment as he waited for Saphira's shock to subside. She was trying to wrap her mind about the fact that their fates were laid out before them by the force that had managed to enchant the werecats and the elves. _We cannot ignore this Saphira. In all honesty, I do not believe that this is a trap. I believe that whatever it is that is waiting for us at the Rock of Kuthian, they mean us well. _

Silence fell between them as he let his words wash over her. Then Saphira said, _I agree. I agree; we should go. We need longer claws and sharper teeth if we are to best Galbatorix and Shruikan. Besides Galbatorix expects us to rush straight to Urû'baen in hopes to end this war. And if there is one thing that makes my scales itch, it is doing as he expects. I do not wish to let him control our lives anymore. _

_My thoughts exactly, _murmured Eragon with a smile as he drew closer to the sparing field. Easily maneuvering about the other warriors that were practicing with each other, he made way for the flurry of blades near the center. Arya and Murtagh were once again fighting to the last of their breaths. As much as he enjoyed watching them attack each other with abandon, they did not have the luxury that was time. And he also wanted them in their right minds as he spoke to them knowing that it would be a disorienting matter.

Unlike the first few times that Arya and Murtagh fought, Arya did not easily triumph as the victor anymore. Instead the two of them were locked as equals pushing and pulling to try and gain the upper hand. He waited for a moment to see if one of the two of them would overtake the other but when it seemed like either Arya or Murtagh would win the match, there was a sudden turn of hand. He waited for another minute feeling his impatience rise up within him. Then when it was clear that the match was not going to end anytime soon, Eragon decided that it was time for him to step in. Drawing Vrangr and Brisingr, he lunged forward as Arya and Murtagh drew away to once more be swept together. Sliding in between them, he brought both his sword up to lock hilts with Murtagh to his right and Arya to his left. The surprise on their faces told him that they did not expect his intervention.

"That is enough," said Eragon his eyes moving from one sweat covered face to the other. "There are other pressing matters than the two of you battering each other senseless." He could tell that Murtagh wanted to protest but when Arya nodded, he stopped. The three of them lowered their swords. With a flourish of his hands, Eragon sheathed Vrangr and Brisingr.

"Has something gone amiss?" asked Arya worriedly as she sheathed Támerlein.

He glanced about, "I cannot say here," He turned to Murtagh, "Let us retire to your tent Murtagh. It will be safe for us to speak there." His brother spared him a look before he nodded sheathing Zar'roc. With one last glance at Eragon he turned and began to lead the way back to the tents weaving in and out. As they walked, Eragon blinked when he felt a soft hand slide into his.

He turned to glance at Arya with a slight smile. His earlier anxiety and trepidation began to fade as the two of them walked side by side close to each other. "Did you rest well?" asked Arya as they walk making light conversation between the two of them. She was no doubt feeling his emotions and was trying to ease his mood.

"Very, however I am quite put out with the fact that Nasuada always calls for you at the break of dawn," admitted Eragon. She made a sound between a scoff and a sigh as if she did not know what to do with him. "It is not my fault that waking up to you is becoming a habit of mine."

"Perhaps," yielded Arya much to his great satisfaction. So she did not like the fact that she had to wake up and leave him as well. That was very heartwarming to hear. They continued to follow Murtagh until they were upon his tent. He swept the flap aside and allowed them to enter. While Arya went to sit on the cot, Eragon and Murtagh occupied the stools about the small table in the center of the tent.

He waited until Murtagh had asked for Glaedr to join them and when they were all joined by their thoughts including Saphira, Thorn, and Eridor, Eragon said to them in a calm voice, _I have found something that may help us in defeating Galbatorix. _

_What is it that you speak of Eragon? _Murtagh asked but he could feel a glimmer of hope in his brother's thoughts.

_It is at the Rock of Kuthian, _his eyes darted to Arya to watch as a contemplative expression appear on her face as if she was trying to remember where she had once heard the name. His earlier anxiety returned to him as he felt her slight confusion and curiosity.

_What rock is this? _Glaedr rumbled, waiting for Eragon to answer him.

_The name seems familiar, _said Arya, _but I cannot place it. _

Expecting this, Eragon began to re-explain to them about his encounter with Solembum in Tronjheim and the advice the werecat gave him. He then told them how upon that advice, he had managed to retrieve the brightsteel from the Menoa tree for Vrangr and Brisingr. Then he told them how during his reading to Ella, he had come across the Rock of Kuthian and how when he spoke to Solembum about it, the werecat could not provide any answers as to where or how he came across the advice that he gave to Eragon long ago.

Arya tucked a strand of hair behind one of her pointed ears. Speaking with both her mind and her voice, she said, "And what is the name of this place again?"

"Moraeta's Spire or the Rock of Kuthian is that not it, Eragon?" asked Murtagh. Murtagh was able to remember the name thought Eragon, several thoughts going through his mind at once. He did not pay heed to the others as he tried to think of a theory that could explain why Arya and Glaedr could not recall the name but the others could. Would this happen to Oromis as well? But if Glaedr was unable to escape the enchantment then Oromis was no doubt the same.

"Saphira and I plan to fly there," said Eragon eventually speaking in both verbally and mentally. "It is a long flight, however if Saphira and I leave forthwith, we can travel there and back before the Varden arrive at Urû'baen. This is our only chance to go."

_We'll not have the time to make the trip later on, _Saphira reaffirmed for him to make their case clear. Keeping his eyes intently focused on Arya, Eragon watched as her expression became bemused and she stared at him not understanding what it was that he was speaking of. The more he gazed into her confused expression the more he wanted to find who was responsible for this and thrash them.

_Where would you be flying to, though? _Asked Glaedr.

This was the third time thought Eragon as he felt Murtagh shift on his stool. He glanced at his brother who was wearing a slightly alarmed expression as if not able to cope with the fact that Glaedr kept on forgetting about the Rock of Kuthian. Arya's expression and her thoughts meant that she was one in the same mind as Glaedr. She stared at him waiting for him to answer Glaedr.

"You mean you do not know?" asked Eragon slowly reaching up to place a hand on Arya's knee to make sure she did not break eye contact with him. He needed to see whether or not it was a flicker of remembrance only to be washed away or if there was something hindering her from connecting the name to some deeper memory within her that was locked away or forever gone.

_You have yet to tell us, _the dragon growled, the field of his mind darkening. _For all your yammering, you've yet to tell us where this mysterious…thing is located. _

He thought hard for a moment then he spoke, "It is on Vroengard Island."

_At last, a straightforward answer…_

A frowned creased Arya's brows and Eragon fought the urge to lift his hand to her face and smooth it out. He never liked seeing her bothered. "But what would you _do _on Vroengard?"

His fingers tightened as he rest one hand on her knee. Her eyes focused on him intently, waiting for him to answer her. "I plan to look for the Rock of Kuthian and the Vault of Souls." He saw in her eyes as she struggled once more to remember the name, to make sense of it. Arya, Eragon knew, would remember what he told her. He knew without a doubt that she had a profound sense of memory and did not forget easily. However, she surprised him once more.

Her expression grew increasingly troubled. "The Rock of Kuthian…The name seems weighted with significance, but I cannot say why; it echoes in my mind, like a song I once knew but have since forgotten." She shook her head and put her hands to her temples. But Eragon had saw the cloud that had settled in her dark irises and the flash of something wiped away from her thoughts. He was alarmed and his patience was growing thin. Not with Arya but with the situation. The words she had spoke, she had told him once already and he was having a slight feeling of disorientation as he remembered her speaking to him under the Menoa tree when he told her about Solembum's advice. Had she forgotten that too?

She blinked turning back to him. "Ah, now it is gone…" she lowered her hands, one coming to rest atop of his on her knee. "Forgive me, what were we speaking of?"

"Are you ill Arya?" Murtagh asked as he shared a look with Eragon. He was shocked that Arya had so easily let slip the topic at hand. At least his brother knew what was going on and from the concerns in Eridor's and Thorn's mind, he could tell that both dragons were unsure what to make of the situation. They were as confused as Arya and Glaedr, both of whom kept forgetting about the location. How come he and Murtagh could remember but not them? Whatever enchantment that was casted on them, it was strong thought Eragon darkly as his fingers tightened. He felt a squeeze on his hand and immediately relaxed. It would do no good to let his temper get the best of him but still, this was too much.

Arya pinned Murtagh with a questioning look, "No, I am well enough."

_Enough of this, _Glaedr interrupted them. _What is it that you wanted to speak to us about Eragon that you had called for such a session? _

"About going to Vroengard," said Eragon slowly.

"Ah, yes," recognition filled Arya's eyes as she gave him a piercing stare, "But for what purpose? You are need here, Eragon. In any case, nothing of value remains on Vroengard." Before he or Murtagh could speak, Glaedr spoke once more.

_Aye, _the dragon agreed. _It is a dead and abandoned place. After the destruction of Doru Araeba, the few of us who had escaped returned to search for anything that might be of use, but the Forsworn had already picked the ruins clean. _

Arya nodded, "Whatever put this idea in your head in the first place? I don't understand how you could believe deserting the Varden now could possibly be wise. And for what? To fly to the far ends of Alagaësia without cause or reason?" The look she gave him clearly told him that she was disappointed in him. It stung but Eragon shook that thought from his mind as he broke away from Arya, Eridor, and Glaedr maintaining his connection with Murtagh, Thorn, and Saphira. Arya was affronted thought Eragon, that he would think of flying to Vroengard when the battle for Urû'baen was but moments away. Well, she was believing that he might run away when in truth he was trying to find the Rock of Kuthian.

_They can't remember, _said Eragon eventually his hand once more tightening about Arya's knee. He was furious to say in the least. _Some type of magic is preventing them from remembering the name. However, Murtagh is unaffected. He remembers and so does Eridor and Thorn. The werecats also do not remember…that could only mean that this spell was meant to affect those that knew of the Rock of Kuthian. Those before our time. _

_It is a deep magic, like the spell that hides the names of the dragons who betrayed the Riders. _

_In order to be effective, the spell would have to erase the memories of everyone who knew about the rock in the first place and also the memories of anyone who heard or read about it thereafter. If the whole of Alagaësia is wrapped in this enchantment, how come we as well as Murtagh and Thorn are unaffected? _

_Whoever caused this, they wanted either one of us to fly to the Rock of Kuthian. They wanted a Rider to make their way there. _

_But what about Arya and Eridor? _Eragon asked unsure of what to make it. His eyes flickered back to Arya as he thought. _Arya and Eridor keep forgetting. That could only mean that at one time Arya knew about the Rock of Kuthian and it was erased from her mind and her connection with Eridor subjects him to the enchantment as well. It is strong enough to even affect Eridor. _

_Then what of your bond with Arya? Would she not similarly affect you like she does Eridor? _

He paused to contemplate Saphira's words before he spoke, _Arya and I have a bond that shares our souls not necessarily our minds which makes it different to her bond with Eridor. Remember Saphira, a dragon and their rider are bonded by the mind as well as the heart. Perhaps that is why it does not affect. Or it could be that whoever had devised this spell had did not know how to counter a situation in case they would come across a soul bond. We are the first after all. _

The size of this type of deception made Eragon cautious. He was positive now that whoever was behind this was trying to protect something no matter what the cost. To cloud the minds of elves, dwarves, humans, and dragons alike, and without arousing the slightest hint of suspicion. They had managed to erase the name of the Rock of Kuthian from history. His eyes darted to Murtagh who was listening to their conversation with an expression shock. He was trying to come to terms with the fact that there was a being out there strong enough to accomplish such a feat. It was an ancient magic thought Eragon deep in thought.

Eventually Murtagh sighed running a hand through his hair. _Why does everything have to be so hard? _

_Because, _said Thorn with a deep rumble of his chest, _everyone wants to eat, but no one wants to be eaten. _

Eragon merely snorted quietly. Despite the speed with which he and Saphira could exchange thoughts, their conversation had lasted long enough for the others to notice. Her hand tightened over his with concern. "Why have you closed your mind s to us?" asked Arya. Her gazed flickered toward one wall of the tent—the wall nearest to where the dragons lay curled in the darkness beyond. "Is something wrong?"

_You seem perturbed, _Glaedr added.

"We should tell them," said Murtagh after a while, "Else we will never be able to unravel this mystery." Eragon nodded and sighed closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to find a way to tell them that they were enchanted without ending up going in circles. Arya's hand on his was a comfortable weight that kept him grounded despite the chills he felt at the strength of such a spell.

"Do you trust me?" Eragon asked speaking in the ancient language, his eyes flickering to Arya. Her answer came to him without hesitation or pause.

"I do," replied Arya in the ancient language. He spared her a slight smile knowing that she did but it made him all the more at ease to hear her reaffirm it without the slightest bit of thought. After a moment, Glaedr spoke as well repeating Arya's words in the ancient language.

With a determined expression, he shifted his hand on Arya's knee turning it about so that he gripped her hand in his. He lifted his other hand and covered hers with it before he spoke deliberately and slowly in the ancient language, "Solembum has told me the name of a place, a place on Vroengard, where Saphira and I may find _someone _or _something _to help us defeat Galbatorix. However, the name is enchanted. Every time I say the name, you soon forget. The only ones who can remember are myself, Murtagh, Saphira, and Thorn." A faint expression of shock appeared on Arya's face. "Do you believe me?"

He saw Arya struggled with herself for a moment before she nodded, "I believe you." A sigh of relief left his lips. He had thought she might argue with him but was glad that she did not. Glaedr, however, was harder to convince just as Eragon thought. He was an age old dragon and was no doubt to proud to admit that one such as powerful as himself was fooled compared to Eragon.

_I believe that you believe what you are saying, _Glaedr growled, _But that does not necessarily make it so. _

If only they could have drawn Oromis into the conversation. He was positive that his teacher would have a better time accepting of the information. However, Oromis was busy conversing with Islanzadí about strategies to use at Urû'baen. Oromis was a voice of reason, he would accept what Eragon was saying.

"If it will temporary placate you," said Eragon feeling his own anger rise. He blinked when Arya leaned forward to place and soft hand on his face as if to lighten his temper. It was working thought Eragon as he leaned into her touch, trying not to let the frustration of such a confusion overtake him. "You may look through my memories or question Solembum but the knowledge of doing so will only be erased from your mind when the spell takes place once more."

_Then let us do so and see what should be done. Summon the werecat. _

_Will you? _Eragon asked Saphira. He knew that the werecat liked Saphira more than he did Eragon.

A moment later, he felt her searching with her mind through the camp, and then he sensed the touch of Solembum's consciousness against Saphira's. After she and the werecat exchanged a brief wordless communication, Saphira announced, _He is on the way. _

They waited in silence. He was going to have to tell Desdemona and Rosalie to prepare supplies for his travel to Vroengard. He paused for a moment as he thought of Desdemona, he had rarely seen her lately due to the fact that she had been preoccupied with assisting the Varden, Nasuada, and his mother. He should pay her a visit and speak to her as well as Bard and Finny like how he spoke to Rosalie. He wanted them to know that they were no longer indebted to him.

When Solembum pushed aside the flaps of the tent and entered Eragon was surprised to see that he was now in his human form. In his left hand, the werecat held a leg of roast goose, on which he was gnawing. A ring of grease coated his lips and chin, and drops of melted fat had splattered against his bare chest.

As he chewed on a strip of flesh, Solembum motioned with his sharp, pointed, chin toward the patch of dirt where Glaedr's heart of hearts lay buried. _What is it you want, firebreather? _He asked.

_To know if you are who you seem to be! _Eragon blinked as the dragon's consciousness seemed to surround Solembum's. The dragon's strength was immense and the werecat had no chance of defending himself. With a gargled yowl, Solembum spat out his mouthful of meat and sprang backward. The three of them watched as the werecat trembled with effort looking for all the world harassed and suddenly Eragon felt rather guilty for having Solembum subjected to such harsh treatments. After a minute Glaedr's thoughts subsided.

_My apologies, werecat, _said Glaedr, _but I had to know for certain. _

Solembum hissed, and the hair on his head fluffed and spiked so that it resembled the blossom of a thistle. _If your body were here, old one, I would cut of your tail for that. _

The image of someone as small as Solembum attempting to cut off Glaedr's tail flashed before his eyes and he found it hard to believe that the werecat, despite his skill, could even managed a scratch on Glaedr. The dragon seemed to think so as well.

_You, little cat? You could not have done more than scratch me. _

Again Solembum hissed and when he went to leave Eragon did not stop him. They had bothered the werecat enough. He felt Arya's hand twitched in his and he glanced up at her curiously. She was staring at Solembum with a slight frown on her face and he could feel from her emotions that she was not happy with the turned of events.

_Wait, _said Glaedr. _Did you tell Eragon about this place on Vroengard, this place of secrets that none can remember? _

The werecat pause, and without turning around, he growled and brandished the goose leg over his head in an impatient, dismissive gesture. _I did. _

With that said he stalked out of the tent trying to retain what was left of his dignity after Glaedr had wronged him. Eragon once more felt guilty and wondered whether or not Angela would get involved due to the fact that she seemed to have a great liking for the werecat that followed her about. Murtagh stood and, with the toe of his boot, pushed the scrap of half-eaten meat out of the tent.

"You should not have been so rough with him," said Arya though her expression was clear, he saw the disapproval in Arya's eyes. She was no doubt remembering the time they had spent underneath the cathedral in Dras-Leona and the fact that Solembum was their savior. He caught her eye and inclined his head to show that he too agreed with her train of thought.

_I had no other choice, _said Glaedr.

"Didn't you? You could have asked his permission first."

_And given him the opportunity to prepare? No. It is done; let it be, Arya. _

She looked like she wanted to say more but Eragon squeezed her hand gently. It would not do well to anger Glaedr. He saw a lost battle and this was one of those times where his foresight came to him. Her brow raised slightly but she acknowledged his move and did not push the matter.

_Now, Eragon, _the golden dragon said, _will you allow me to examine the memories of your conversation with Solembum? _

"Of course," said Eragon preparing himself to have his mind parsed and analyzed by Glaedr. Though he did not enjoy the sensation there was little else he could do to convince the dragon of their plight. He needed to go to Vroengard, he knew that now without a doubt. There was something there waiting for him, calling for him. It might be dangerous but he was ready to undertake the journey.

Addressing Arya, Glaedr said, _separate your mind from ours, and do not allow Eragon's memories to taint you consciousness. _

"As you wish, Glaedr-elda." As Arya spoke, the music of her mind grew ever distant fading into the background but he could still feel her emotions through their bond. Then Glaedr returned his attention to Eragon waiting for him to show the dragon his short conversation with Solembum. So he showed Glaedr the memory of his conversation with Solembum however short it was. However rather than merely show it to him, he allowed Glaedr's consciousness to meld with his so her could experience the memory for himself.

When he finished, Glaedr withdrew somewhat from Eragon's mind and said to Arya and Murtagh, _When I have forgotten, if I do, repeat to me the words "Andumë and Fíronmas at the hill of sorrows, and their flesh like glass." This place on Vroengard…I know of it. Or I once did. It was something of importance, something…_The dragon's thoughts grayed for a second and Eragon recognized that it was similar to how Arya's eyes were cloud as if she was struggling to maintain her thoughts. Then he spoke in a brusque voice. _Well? Why do we tarry? Eragon, show me your memories. _

He exchanged a glance with Murtagh and Arya. Their fears were confirmed, there was a spell that was wrapped about Alagaësia and to see Glaedr fall prey to it made the unknown seem more dangerous to them. He paused before he spoke still in the ancient language, "I already have."

Even as Glaedr's mood turned to disbelief, Arya said, "Glaedr, remember: 'Andumë and Fíronmas at the hill of sorrows, and their flesh like glass."

_How—_Glaedr started, and then he growled with such force, Eragon half expected to hear it out loud. _I loathe spells that interfere with one's memory. _He said with a dark thought on the horizon. Eragon sighed in relief, it meant that they believed him. He glanced up Arya, who looked troubled as she stared at him and he knew what it was that she was thinking of. He merely let his hand glide across the back of her hand. Her lips twitched but otherwise her expression did not change as she blinked.

Then Murtagh sighed warily as she leaned back in his stool. "So the spell is real. I suppose you have to go to Vroengard, then."

_To ignore something of this importance would be folly. If nothing else, we need to know who it is at the center of this mystery, _added Thorn speaking for the first time. It caught Eragon off guard but he nodded after a moment still staring at Arya but her head was turned and she was gazing at one of the walls of the tent. He frowned knowing that she was bothered.

_I shall go as well, _said Glaedr leaving no room to argue with him. _If someone means to harm you, they may not expect to fight two dragons instead of one. In any event, you will need a guide. Vroengard has become a dangerous place since the destruction of the Riders, and I would not have you fall prey to some forgotten evil. _

"It is decided then," said Eragon still worried when he did not hear Arya's input on his leaving for Vroengard. He could only assume that she did not want to say anything in the presence of the others. "You and Murtagh need to stay here and defend the Varden since we are closing to Urû'baen. We cannot afford for more than one Rider to leave at such a crucial moment."

"Aye," agreed Murtagh, "Though it bothers me that you will be out of reach of our help." That was true, when he left for Vroengard, if any trouble befell them it would be hard to fend off for he and Saphira would be truly alone. It was a daunting idea but it was one Eragon had to accept.

After a moment, he glanced at Murtagh, "Could you and the others go and prepare a conference with Nasuada and the others? We need to inform her of the situation at hand." Murtagh spared him a look of understanding and nodded. Murtagh stood and exited the tent will Glaedr temporarily withdrew from their minds to give them a moment's respite together. Outside he heard the dragons take to the air no doubt making their way to Nasuada's pavilion.

Confident that they were alone, Eragon turned back to Arya. She had turned her head back to gaze at him with an expression of yearning as well as worry. "You are needed here Arya," murmured Eragon quietly as he stared up at her. "If we both leave at once, it would only serve to demoralize the soldiers."

"I know…Only, I always wanted to visit the home of the Riders," she said in just as quiet as a voice as if afraid someone might hear her wish. He smiled as he lifted her hands to his lips, brushing his lips across her silky skin.

"One day then, the both of us shall go to Vroengard together," promised Eragon with a smile. "After we have won the battle against Galbatorix. The two of us shall visit and explore the city of Doru Araeba."

Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at him gently tugging him to her. He leaned forward, his chest brushing her legs as he tilted his head back and to gaze up at her. She leaned down and brushed her lips against his gently. "I shall hold you to that Eragon Shadeslayer."

"I will not forget," he pulled her down for another kiss having not shared in their affections with one another since he had woken. Nipping her bottom lip gently, he murmured against her as she parted her lips to grant him entrance. "Arya Shadeslayer."

Her only response was to twine her fingers in his hair and press closer to him. That was his promise to her thought Eragon as he crouched before her not minding his very uncomfortable position. One day, when the fighting was over. He would take Arya away from the forefront of politics and the needs of Alagaësia and let her spend a few days doing whatever it was that she wanted whether or not it was to explore Vroengard or something else. It was his promise to return to her. He tilted his head as she sighed against his lips. A promise that showed that they would have a future past Urû'baen together.

**Now I know that some of you had wanted a change in the trip to Vroengard but Eragon has to go with Glaedr and no one else because he needs to remain alone to think to himself. Bringing Arya along would only serve to distract him and what happens on Vroengard is essential to the plot line not just in terms of the Rock of Kuthian but what my story contains. But as Eragon has promised Arya, they will return to Vroengard in the post-war chapters. I am sad to say this guys but ExA will be limited for the chapters that Eragon is away. (I know it hurts-I love ExA moments). But hey, I shall be very nice about writing about ExA in the post war chapters. Anyways see you all soon and I believe that I may not update this Sunday but I'm still debating. **


	92. Chapter 88

Chapter 88

**The Departure Chapter everyone...Be forewarned there is a lemon in here (probably the last one until the post-war chapters). Anyways, there is plenty of ExA in here for you all since there won't be much in the following chapters. So enjoy this chapter everyone! Apart from the standard disclaimer (I do not own anything that involves the Inheritance Cycle) there's not much I have left to say really. Anyways R&R!**

It was exceedingly difficult to convince Nasuada and the others of the journey to Vroengard. Eragon had expected as much but he did not expect how increasingly short his temper grew with every leader questioning him and railing at him about his lack of bravery and need to go traipsing across Alagaësia. At one point, Eragon was about to jump over the folding table in the command tent and strangle the life out of the King Orrin, his forces be damned. Had it not been for Arya's tight hold on his hand, he would have done so.

They spent a greater part of the time trying to convince Nasuada and Orrin about the plight and it was difficult and repetitive to do so due to the enchantment that was cast about Alagaësia and it was when Arya was near ready to snap at the next insult to their intelligence did Nasuada agree to view his request in a reasonable light. After a near hour of persuasion, she gave way but only after Blödhgarm and the other elves offered to create apparitions of both Eragon and Saphira to replace them when they departed. It would help to keep the moral of the army from falling and it would not give away to their enemies that one of their Riders was gone.

The images would appear to be perfect living, breathing, thinking replicas of Eragon and Saphira, but their minds would be empty, and if anyone peered into them, the ruse would be discovered. As a result, the image of Saphira would be unable to speak, and although the elves could feign speech on the part of Eragon, that too would be better to avoid. The limitations of the illusions meant that all was not as it seemed. The hardest part with the illusions would be the interactions with Arya and Eridor. It was a known fact that Eragon and Arya were mates. He could tell that Arya was uncomfortable acting with the illusion of him but she did not say anything as she agreed to the decision.

As they went through the plans, Eragon was aware through his link with Saphira of the elves' faint, lilting chanting, which underlay everything he heard, like a strip of cunningly woven fabric hidden beneath the surface of the world.

Saphira had remained at the tent he and Arya shared, and the elves were ringed about her, their arms outstretched and the tips of their fingers touching while they sang. The purpose of their long, complicated spell was to collect visual information of Saphira. It was difficult enough to imitate the shape of an elf or a human; a dragon was harder still, especially given the refractive nature of her scales. Even so, the most complicated part of the illusion, as Blödhgarm had told Eragon, would be reproducing the effects of Saphira's weight on her surroundings every time her apparition took off or landed.

It took them a greater part of the day and late into the night when they were finished and Eragon was glad for he wanted to spend his remaining hours with Arya before he departed. As they neared the tent however, he caught sight of Desdemona as she was finishing the preparations for their travels. Arya spared him a long look as she swept aside the flap to their tent leaving him alone with Desdemona. Did she fell awkward about Desdemona thought Eragon confused. One day, he was going to have to sit down with Arya and ask her what it was about her as well as Rosalie and Desdemona. Still tired and rather impatient due to the day's events, he made his way over to his servant as she tightened the bags on Saphira's saddle.

Being always aware and alert, she glanced up at his approach, "Ah, my lord," she smiled at him which made her haughty exterior melt away. "I have just finished with your preparations for your journey." She stood fluidly and brushed her hands against her dress. Despite the fact that she fought alongside the men in their battles, Desdemona liked to indulge herself in womanly fancies and that included dresses. She was after all the daughter of a nobleman.

-"Thank you Desdemona," said Eragon softly as he stared down at his servant. She blinked up at him, her violet eyes slightly surprised.

"It is my duty," she said after a moment's pause.

Eragon shook his head, "No longer," he said watching as her violet eyes went wide at his words. His expression became serious as he stared down at her. "You and the others have served me well these last few years. I could never have asked for better servants. I want you to know, Desdemona that you no long have to follow me. You do not have to follow me to Urû'baen. You can live your own life. I shall not hold it against you."

He watched as she blinked, her violet eyes shining in the dim light of a campfire not far off. Her lips were pursed and it looked as if she was struggling for a moment. Then she spoke in a quiet voice, "Before I met you my lord. I was a foolish girl always relying on her father's standings to live her life, never giving a thought to the cruelties of the world. However, when you rescued me…I learned how to live rather than to cling to someone else. It was a weak showing on my part."

"You were never weak," denied Eragon thinking of the woman who had come to serve him. She was strong and smart. She did all the calculating and finances when she had lived with him and he knew that one day, she should continue to stay by Nasuada's side to help her manage Alagaësia. Desdemona was just too bright of a person to be wasted on following him about—her, Rosalie, Bard, and Finny. They all had their own lives waiting for them. Following him would only chain them down thought Eragon.

He did not like the idea in the least.

"You just did not notice," said Desdemona with a slight smile. He blinked and shifted on his feet slightly unsure of how to respond to her. "I know my lord that my life is my own to live and I chose to live it following you as well as Lady Selena. I've learned not to be weak but to be strong following you and I do not regret the years that I have spent underneath you," she paused as if searching for words. He had never seen her look so nervous before but she did. He watched as she struggled trying to find words to express her emotions. "I know that I cannot follow you forever…that my time is limited but please allow me to do so for as long as I am able."

Her words touched him to the point that Eragon was having a hard time looking at her. To think he had always taken his servants for granted. They were loyal, devoted, and compassionate. He stared at her and in her he saw the many years he spent with them back in Urû'baen. The four of them had livened the world for him in that dark castle that was in Urû'baen. They had brought joy to his mother. Silence was never capable to taking hold when they were about and he knew that in his life he would never be able to meet others such as them. It made him strangely emotion.

After a moment, he turned back to Desdemona and he could tell that she was waiting for his response. He took in a deep breath and said as sincerely as he could, "Thank you Desdemona…for everything."

Her rewarding smile made his smile back. After thanking her once more, he watched as she left weaving in and out of the tents. One day thought Eragon sadly as he stared at her figure which then vanished between the tents, he would leave behind everything he knew. Or rather they would leave him. The world would change and with it so would the people. Now he understood why the elves and dwarves kept to themselves. It hurt to think that the people he cared for would pass away as he continued to live on including his parents, his cousins, Roran and Katrina, Nasuada, and many more. It was standing there in the dark of night that he realized just how much he came to care for others since the time he'd left Urû'baen.

After a moment of staring off into space, he shook his head and turned to return to Arya's side. Now with the recent thoughts in his mind, he was fervently glad that he would always have her by his side. Lifting up the tent flap, he entered to find Arya sitting on their cot, her boots removed and drinking a mug of tea. She must be stressed thought Eragon as he took a seat beside her. Her eyes traveled to his before she held up her half finished mug of tea.

"Would you like to drink the rest?" she asked quietly.

He glanced at the mug and took it from her hands drinking the rest. It had a relaxing effect on his thoughts. Bathing in it for a moment, he shook his head and placed the cup on the table as well as his weapons. Letting the silence rein between them, he reached down and unlaced his boots, sliding his feet out before gripping the hem of his tunic and pulling it over his head rolling his shoulders as he did so. Tossing his tunic to the side, he turned to find Arya watching him. Her emerald eyes were deep and brimming with emotion.

"You are worried," murmured Eragon as he turned to face her.

There was a flicker of emotion in her eyes. He watched as the emerald eyes that he came to love glanced away and he knew now that Arya was worried. She was worried for the both of them. It irked her Eragon remembered when she could not remember the name of the Rock of Kuthian. It bothered her that she had to blindly trust in whoever it was at the center of this riddle. It frightened her that Urû'baen laid before them and their fates would be decided then. He stared at her, before he brought his hand up to slide through her silky hair.

He had always loved her hair. Letting the ebony strands fall between his fingers like water, he relished in the cool feel of it on his fingers. Grasping a strand between his thumb and forefinger, he brought it up to his nose to smell her fresh scent. She always smelt like crushed pine needles and it made him relax even more. After a moment, her silky strand fell away as he reached forward and took her chin in his hand tilting her head up to meet her eyes with his. He wanted to memorize her, every detail and so he was content to just stare and see—see Arya, his Arya. That was when a thought came to him, one that he had not thought of before when it was as clear as day to him.

Distracted, he slowly released her and made his way over to his bags to ruffle through the contents until he found the smooth slate. Pulling out the blank, white slate he stared at it for a moment his back turned to Arya. As he stared at the whiteness of the slate, his mind thought of Arya. He thought of her as who she was and as who she appeared to be. He thought of her characteristics, both flawed and perfect. He thought of her dreams, of her past life, of her need to surpass, and of her desire to be seen. He thought of her love for her mother and of her devotion to her father. He thought of her bond with Eridor. And lastly, he thought of her heart which she had given to him. As his thought tried to bring forth an image of Arya, he spoke the words silently as he incanted the spell.

A stir of motion, like a swirl of muddy water, disturbed the surface of the tablet. Then colors—red, blue, green, yellow—blossomed on the slate and began to form lines and shapes even as they intermingled to form other, subtler shades. After a few seconds, an image of Arya appeared. Once it was complete, he released the spell and studied the fairth. The image that stared back at him was Arya, the one that he saw. She was beautiful, selfless, devoted, and yet there was a flaw to her that did not mar her beauty but rather gave shape to her character. It was a flawed perfection. It was Arya, simply just Arya. He stared at the fairth, temporarily distracted. He did not even hear Arya's soft whisper behind his back.

"Kausta," he blinked as the tablet flew from his hands, curving through the air and with deft fingers, Arya caught it in the air as it landed in her hand.

She stared at the image of herself for a long moment. Then to his shock, he saw her hand shake with emotion. Afraid she might drop the fairth, he reached forward and took it from her hands before setting it on the table. Taking a seat by her, he reached out and drew her into his lap his arms coming about her slim waist as she leaned her head against his chest. "What is the matter Arya?" asked Eragon softly. He paused, "Are you truly unhappy with my decision?"

"No," and the fact that she spoke in the ancient language, like they always did when they were alone showed that she meant it. "Not with your decision but with what is to come. You leave Eragon and when your return, we will be upon Urû'baen and then we shall fight. Fight or die trying."

"Do you regret it?" asked Eragon quietly as one of her hands came up to glide over the skin of his torso, his fingers tracing a path up to his shoulders. It was a touch that was both sensual and calming and it took Eragon a great effort to force his body into submission. He would focus on the little time he had with Arya before the winds of fate swept them away.

"No I do not," she whispered as if afraid to speak any louder, "My only wish was that our time together was not measured so." Her hand paused on his right shoulder, her fingers curling about to knead the smooth skin and muscle. "When I think of my past life Eragon, I know now how lacking I was. How lacking it was. A century in which only a handful of days was I truly happy…then I met you. The Rider who saved my life in Gil'ead when I thought there was no more hope left. You gave me hope and in such a short span of time, I began to crave your warmth, your touch, your love."

Eragon waited on baited breath for her to continue to speak knowing that Arya needed to let forth her emotions else she would only cause herself more stress and hurt. "Never before had I found myself so enamored by someone, so completely overwhelmed that I could barely think without seeing you, hearing you, just being with you. I had thought I loved Faölin but my feelings for him cannot compare to how I feel for you Eragon." She glanced up and he felt as if someone had hit him in the gut at how beautiful her emerald eyes looked as she gazed at him, seeing past him and seeing deep into him. She understood the meaning of Eragon. She knew and had accepted it. "Against reason, against advice, against my mother…I still wanted to be with you, to be with you as your mate."

"You taught me how to love Eragon, fully and without restraint," her fingers slid from his right shoulder down to his arm, gliding across the skin. He felt her touch the inside of his elbow, trace meaningless patterns on his forearm, and then ghost over his wrist. "You gave me happiness unlike ever before, a sense of fulfillment that I did not know I was missing until we came together. Seventy years of searching and wandering, I found peace in the midst of war. I found it in you—in your soul."

Her fingers curled about his right hand, lacing with his as she leaned down to place a soft kiss against the skin over his heart causing him to shiver slightly. "I want forever with you, however long it may be. The both of us together," his heart ached for she had stolen the words from his lips. He wanted eternity with Arya as well. His long life, he wanted to live it by her side. "And yet, we have but only a few days before we lay our lives down for this world. The possibility—the mere thought of one of us not surviving…" she stopped speaking struggling with her words.

He decided to continue on for her knowing what it was that she was struggling to communicate. "It frightens me too Arya," said Eragon softly his arm tightening about her waist as she leaned forward to rest her head against the crook of his neck, her warm breath washing over his heated skin. "Never before had I ever considered the possibility of finding love outside of the Empire, of finding my family. You taught me how to love as well. To trust blindly in another, to desire to be better."

"You just need to remedy your sleeping habits," said Arya lightly despite their deep conversation. He spared her a small chuckle.

"I want to wake up every day with you by my side," continued Eragon softly as he poured his heart out to her. "To go to sleep with you in my arms. You taught me Arya to live for myself…and to live for you. To not sacrifice my life today just for tomorrow." The words he spoke to her, from so long ago when they were stranded in a cave in Ellesmeŕa tumbled for his lips and her heard her soft sigh against his neck. She remembered his words too. "I refuse to let Urû'baen be the end of our lives. It will the beginning Arya. My life began at Urû'baen despite the cruelty of its nature. Let us start our lives again at Urû'baen. Together."

"Eragon," he blinked staring down at Arya as she smiled softly up at him. "I will believe in those words but…" she hesitated, lowering her eyes. After a long moment, he felt her hand tightened in his before she peered up at him underneath her long lashes. "I want you to know that wherever you go…I will follow."

He paused at her words and his arm tightened about her waist as his mind processed it. Suddenly an aching denial washed over him. But he knew, he understood her words. Their souls were so tightly bond that if he died, a part of her would follow. What would happen to Arya though? Would she live a whole life afterwards? Or would she die with him? Neither anger nor rage came to him. He only had one thought.

He would not die.

**M-RATED CONTENT-READ AT OWN CAUTION **

He would not drag Arya down with him. As he thought of her words struck with his determination that felt heavy in his own mind, he blinked when Arya pulled away from him standing. He glanced up at her watching as she reached behind her to undo the ties of her leather clothing slipping it off with ease before she slipped out from her leggings, the leather falling to the ground without any support. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared at her from head to toe.

There was no creature that could rival Arya's beauty in his eye. They said that beauty was in the eyes of the beholder but he knew that Arya's beauty was one that everyone had to acknowledge. Had to behold for she was beyond a doubt a creature that was the epitome of beauty. He drank in her slim but powerful legs, his eyes running over the curves of her thighs lingering at the center where they met before they moved upwards. He took in her smooth and flat stomach, the curve to her body, her elegant hands, her strong arms, her well rounded breasts. But the real beauty of Arya was her face thought Eragon dazed as he took in her soft lips, her high cheekbones, the curve of her nose, and her sparkling emerald eyes. It was his moment to memorize all there was to Arya.

After a moment of allowing him to gaze at her, she bent forward her hands coming to his waist to undo the Belt of Beloth the Wise—which Murtagh had returned after the Battle for Dras-Leona—and slid it out of his belt loops to set aside. Hooking her thumbs underneath the waist line of his breeches, she pulled the constrictive material off, Eragon lifting his hips for her to do so. Letting the clothing fall to the ground, she stood over him, her green eyes dark with lust and desire.

Meeting her lips with his as she bent down to kiss him, his hands reached up to tug her down to him but the moment his tongue slid across her lips seeking entry Arya pulled away. Instead, she slowly knelt before him her hand coming forward to wrap about the base of his hardened member causing him to groan. He watched, trying to keep his eyes open despite the onslaught of sensation that he was feeling as she gently stroked him her thumb teasing the head of his member causing more of his arousal to come forth. He watched feeling his heart pounding in his chest as she leaned forward, her tongue darting forth from her lips to wrap about his head. Grunting, Eragon could not prevent the guttural groan that escaped him when she took him into her mouth. Grounding his feet against the ground, he sought to prevent from bucking against her face as she pulled back up his length until her lips were wrapped about his head, his member now coated in her saliva.

She was trying to kill him, thought Eragon in his haze of pleasure.

While she was taking him in and out of her mouth, he had let one of his hands come forward and wrap about the back of her head, not to guide her but to steady himself else he was sure he would topple over due to her ministrations. Whenever her long hair threatened to fall in the way, he would brush it aside and she would always reward him with a slight squeeze of his base that she stroked while the rest of him she took into her mouth and throat.

She pulled back to thoroughly work the head of his cock with her tongue, panting as she did so, then lowered her mouth back onto him. His hand tightened on the back of her head as he felt a tightness emerge in his hardened member and he knew that he was close as she ran her tongue up his length, wrapping once more about his head with a throaty moan that sent vibrations throughout his entire length. Once more he fought the overwhelming urge to buck against her.

Arya took him deep into her throat again, the tight walls of her throat massaging him as she looked up at him through her eyelashes again, her emerald eyes smoldering. She squeezed him with her hand which was wrapped about his base. A grunt escaping his lips, he was about to pull out of Arya as his release came crashing down on him but she held him tight, her lips traveling up until they wrapped about his head as she swallowed everything he had to offer.

Watching as she pulled back, he was trying to control his breathing as he took in her swollen lips which she licked to reaffirm the fact that she had just brought him to his release. His eyes darted to his hardened member coated in her saliva, which only served to heighten his arousal. Taking his hand from the back of her head and wrapping it about her waist, Eragon blinked when she pushed him gently back onto the cot falling against him.

Still in a daze from his earlier pleasure, he moaned when her lips met his, her tongue dancing against his when he immediately allowed her entrance. Arms coming up to wrap about her back, he pulled her flush against him earning a surprised but pleasant gasp from her. Letting his hands rove all about her body, restraint was no longer part of his vocabulary as he rolled them over pinning Arya beneath his body. Her face was flushed, eyes heavy-lidded, and lips parted in a look that he always sought to bring about.

Leaning his head down, he kissed her neck smiling when her head lolled to the side inviting him to her smooth, creamy skin. Remembering what it was that Arya always seemed to do to him when she was overcome with passion, Eragon gently bit down on her skin eliciting a small hiss from her as he alternated between nibbling and suckling until a clear dark, purple mark appeared. Admiring the bruise for a moment, he continued on moving lower still as his tongue continued to taste her. Nuzzling her breast with his face he closed his mouth about her left nipple and used his teeth and tongue to stimulate the erect point. One of his hands came up to softly knead her other breast oftentimes pausing to pinch and flick her other nipple.

Another thought came to him as she squirmed beneath his hand and mouth. When she would grind her hips against his in an attempt to alleviate the pressure of her desire, Eragon shifted pinning her legs down with his to prevent her from shifting beneath him. A growl left her lips but he continued to keep her still as he continued what he knew she would call pleasurable torture on her chest. Knowing that she did not like when he teased her Eragon merely smiled against her breast as he bit down on her nipple causing her back to arch off of the cot pushing her chest against his face as she let out a moan.

"Eragon…stop—biting—me!" panted Arya but despite her words, her arm which was wrapped around his head to cradle him against her bosom did not move. Switching, he moved until his mouth was wrapped about her right nipple and though he was torturing her, he felt his hardened member twitch and fought to prevent himself from alleviating the pressure by pressing against her. He wanted them to experience the need for physical contact before he gave in to his more primal urges which involved furiously taking Arya.

"Why?" asked Eragon in a low voice, "You always bite me."

Before she could reply to him, he gave her nipple one last flick before his teeth close around it. Instantly, her body jerked underneath him as she groaned. After a moment, Eragon lifted his head to take in the red ring that his teeth had caused. Taking a moment longer to admire his mark on her, he shifted up her body and bent his head to kiss her. When her hands made to wrap about him and pull him closer, he smiled as he gripped both of her hands pinning them above her head before he began to put a slim amount of space between their flushed bodies.

Another soft growl was torn from Arya's lips at his teasing. But she did not have the strength to fight against his grip. Knowing which spots where the most sensitive, Eragon leaned down to kiss her lips before he tilted his head to the side and kissed behind her ear. He heard a low moan from her as he continued, his tongue tracing a path from behind her ear down her neck to her shoulders until she was trembling with want.

"Stop teasing me, Eragon," moaned Arya. Her hands were clenching his in a death grip but he did not concede. Not yet.

Returning to her lips, he lightly let his feather against hers but he did not lean in to give her a full kiss. He watched her, taking in her closed eyes, flushed cheeks, and sweaty body beneath his. Her lips parted and he thought she might make a demand or growl against him but a soft whimper left her.

Instantly, Eragon released her hands and legs grunting when her legs came up to wrap about his waist pulling him all the way inside her as her hands came up to wrap about his neck in an iron grip. Having done enough teasing for one day, he began to move against her keeping his eyes open to watch her reactions. Sliding in and out of her, their hips grinding against each other, he could hear her moans, husky from her lust, grow louder signaling that she was close to her release seeing as how he had teased her so much earlier. Staving off his own release, Eragon continued to thrust against her.

Kissing her sweaty neck as he felt her walls clench about him, he proceeded to kiss her lips Arya trying to respond to the best of her abilities despite the onslaught of sensation she was feeling. "Arya," murmured Eragon roughly against her lips as another cry caught in her throat, "Open your eyes."

Slowly, her eyelids lifted to reveal her fiery emerald eyes in a haze of pure pleasure. Making sure not to break eye contact, he pulled out until he was nearly free of her walls before he plunged into her, thrusting into her roughly and fully. The results were monumental for he saw in her eyes a gleam before a cloud of bliss covered the dark irises as a cry escaped her. Not slowing, he gritted his teeth as her walls convulsed around him threatening to take him over the edge. Instead, he continued to thrust into her watching as another fire was built in her growing as her breathing grew ever more heavy, as if she was fighting. But this was a different battle entirely thought Eragon as he continued to move against her, sweat falling from his face, his arms beginning to shake.

He read the ripples in her hips and the tightening of her legs about him and reaching down between them before pressing down on the bundle of nerves at her center. The scream that was his name echoed about them as her back arched off of the cot, her fingers gripping his shoulders tightly as she came once more, her walls tightening about him and he too came within her, white spots appearing in his vision as he sagged against her slowly moving within her as they rode out their release together, the air filled with Arya's womanly scent.

**END OF M-RATED CONTENT! **

Panting heavily, he glanced down at Arya as she laid panting beneath him, her arms and legs falling to her side. Reaching up with a hand, he shifted her hair from her face, the long strands damp with sweat as he leaned down to kiss her, Arya mustering enough strength to return his affections.

"The next time you tease me," she panted, her voice still husky, "I shall use magic on you."

Eragon grinned down at her before tracing her neck with his fingers, "How did my bites feel to you?"

"Had it not been for all the teasing you subjected me to, I would have enjoyed them greatly," replied Arya, her dark eyes finding his. Despite her words, she was smiling up at him in a sated and content way. When he made to ready himself to sleep, she shook her head and in a swift move of her legs, turned them about so that she was straddling him stomach.

Her hands running up his chest to wrap about his neck, she leaned forward lowering her head to his ear, "It is my turn to do the teasing Eragon," whispered Arya in a seductive voice that made his spine tingle.

Sleep did not come to either of them that night as they spent it together as much as they could spending some of their time to rest only to come together once more. The last of their unions was gentle and slow as if the both of them were trying their best to convey to each just how much the other meant to them. When morning came, Eragon was reluctant to part from Arya but they did washing and dressing together.

Despite their intimacy the last few hours, he was reluctant to part from her thought Eragon as they made their way to his parents tent. He felt oddly rejuvenated despite his lack of sleep. His mind was wide awake and as clear as the surface of any lake. He glanced at Arya, who offered him a slight smile as they walked hand in hand. His eyes darted to her neck and he smirked slightly at the dark purple bruise that had yet to heal seeing as it was the most recent one he had given her. Arya had made good on returning the favor. Only once last night did she ever actually bite him enough to draw blood once more seeing as she was quite sensitive.

Arriving at his parents' tents. He was surprised to find Murtagh waiting along with his parents and Ella. "What are you doing here?" asked Eragon, he thought he had already said his farewells to Murtagh and the others who had gathered last night to talk about his leaving for Vroengard. He had shared an embrace with Nasuada, had shared in his farewells to his servants, and had received well wishes from Orrin and Orik.

"I wanted to see you off before you left," said Murtagh as he came forward holding out his hand. Eragon stared at it for a moment before he reached forward to grip his hand. He blinked in surprise when Murtagh pulled him into a one arm hug. "Be safe on your journey to Vroengard brother. I wish I could travel with you but it is too dangerous to leave the Varden undefended. In any case, I shall wait here for your return."

Still surprised when Murtagh pulled away, Eragon nodded his voice coming back to him. "I shall keep that in mind and hurry to do what I must…brother," said Eragon as they withdrew their hands. He turned to his father and awkwardly accepted an embrace from the older man.

"Keep your wits about you Eragon, Vroengard is not what it once was. Make sure you listen to Glaedr's advice and instructions else you shall be eaten by a forgotten beast," warned Brom. Eragon could only nod allowing the man a moment longer before they both drew away from each other.

"And you take care of yourself as well as mother and Ella," said Eragon as Brom nodded with a smile. He then turned to his mother and seeing as her hands were occupied with Ella, he reached forward and hugged her careful not to harm Ella.

"Fly swift and safe, you and Saphira," said his mother her brows creased in worry. Nodding, Eragon kissed his mother's cheek watching as she smiled. "I shall tend to the others while you leave for your journey. Make sure you rest and eat well else I shall be very put out with you once you return to the Varden."

"I shall mother," said Eragon taking in her motherly advice as she pulled away to hold Ella up to him, her small face beaming up at him. He smiled at his baby sister and kissed her on the brow watching as she wiggled in their mother's gasp. Taking her into his hands momentarily, he gave her another parting kiss before he returned her to their mother.

When he had said his farewells to his family, he turned to Arya. The beauty of her eyes still captivated him and despite the fact that he had spent the last few hours with her; the effect she had on him never seemed to lessen.

Taking his head in her hands, she chastely brushed their lips together, "Luck be with you, Eragon my mate," she whispered n the ancient language pulling away slightly to stared up into his eyes. "When you return, there is something I wish to tell you."

He nodded and took her hands in his before she could pull away. "I will fly swiftly so that I may return to you Arya and hear what it is that you wish to tell me. Do not worry for I promise you, not matter what, we will return safely."

Her emerald eyes sparkled as he climbed onto Saphira's back sliding his legs into the saddles, strapping himself in. Eragon saw Blödhgarm and the other elves gathered in a close knight group, by his parents' tent. He nodded to them, and they nodded in return. They plan was simple: he and Saphira would set off as if they intended to patrol the skies and scout the land ahead but after circling the camp a few times, Saphira would fly into a cloud, and Eragon would cast a spell to render them invisible to those below. Then the elves would create the hollowed wraiths that would take their place.

Checking the saddlebags that Desdemona had packed, he took special care with the one on his left, for packed within it—well saddled with clothes and blankets—was the velvet lined chest that contained Glaedr's precious heart of hearts, his Eldunarí. The other Eldunarí in their care, Fundor, was still kept safely hidden by Arya allowing the dragon some peace of mind.

_Let us be off, _said Glaedr.

_To Vroengard! _Saphira exclaimed pushing up into the air as she leapt from the ground. A rush of air buffeted him as she flapped her massive, bat-like wings, driving them higher and higher into the sky. His eyes flickered to the ground where his family and Arya were standing and determination welled up within him. He would return with a way to defeat Galbatorix, he would make sure of it.

He would return with a hope for their future. For his future together with Arya.

**Now ExA will be scarce after this chapter since they will now be separated. I don't think another lemon will come up until the post-war chapter. If you read the lemon, I hope you all understand the reasoning behind Eragon's teasing of Arya. If you don't I shall address it in the next chapter. It's rather symbolic if you will. Apart from the lemon, I wanted to portray how far both Eragon and Arya have come up to this point in this story to show their growth in character and the meaning of their 'epic romance'. Apart from that I hope to see you all soon for the revelation of this story's plotline as Saphira and Eragon fly to Vroengard! See you all soon! **

**P.S.— I shall not be updating tomorrow but I will the day after. **

**Question-I'm curious, who is your favorite character in the Inheritance Cycle? (It could be the original or this story) But personally I love Arya's character even though she appears black and white. **


	93. Chapter 89

Chapter 89

**Hello again this chapter will be part one of Eragon's and Saphira's flight to Vroengard everyone. This one is more of quiet contemplation chapter while the next one will revolve around Saphira's flying (which is a challenge since I have no idea how to go about writing about her trying to conquer the storms in about 5000 words). There is also a little post-war fluff that I wanted to write and maybe you will all enjoy it as well. Anyways, I don't own the inheritance series-CP's stuff. R&R.**

Standing along the beach, the water lapping at his boots he stared out at the dark ocean not able to see the horizon against the darkness. It appeared as if the sky and the sea had merged and become one. It had been some time since he stood on this beach thought Eragon idly. Where had all that time gone? Here, he had stood long ago wishing for freedom, yearning for it. A freedom as wide as the sea itself—endless and forever stretching onwards.

It was there thought Eragon hope welling up within him. The freedom he wanted, it was waiting for him at Urû'baen. His chance for a life freed from Galbatorix was but a few days away. Only time would be the deciding factor now. Time and whatever laid waiting at Vroengard. His cloak billowing about him, he was waiting for Saphira's decision whether or not she wanted to brave the storm. Glancing behind him, his eyes paused on the large bulky form that was Saphira as she laid on the beach, her scales like glittering faintly underneath the full moon. Then he gazed behind her and at the orange lights floating in the darkness. They were the torches and lanterns of Teirm, many miles away. And high above the other lights, a bright yellow spot appeared for a second, like a great eye glaring at him; then it vanished and reappeared, flashing on and off in a never-changing cycle, as if the eye were blinking.

He knew that sight well enough. It was the lighthouse of Teirm. The fact that it was light such meant that a storm was brewing on the horizon. It would be dangerous for Saphira to brave the winds no matter how experienced of a flyer she was. But time was not on their side thought Eragon as he turned back to gaze at the dark span of water, the reflection of the full moon glancing off its surface. He could not know what laid out there waiting for them but there was a great wreath of anticipation in him. He would not deny the fact that he had always wanted to visit Doru Araeba on Vroengard. From the visions of the Eldunarí that Galbatorix had in his possession, the Dragon City was glorious during its time. He doubt the same city would wait for him when they landed.

His eyes wandered to the full moon on the reflection of the waters and he thought of the time Arya had confessed to him back at Lake Tüdosten. The moon was as full as it was then now as they stood together in the water. Thinking of Arya, his eyes tried to discern the horizon once more. _The elves sailed to Alagaësia. _The thought never left his mind as he stared out into the darkness. He was grateful. Eternally grateful that the wide expanse before him was what had brought her people to Alagaësia. He could not think of what he would have done had they not arrived, had they not settled here. He would have never met Arya. It was a history long ago but it was something to be grateful for nonetheless.

As he stood there, the water stirring about his booted feet another thought occurred to him. _Somewhere out there, is the origin of the elves. _What was past Vroengard? What else laid before them that they did not know about? It was a thought to contend with and he was having a hard time not thinking about it. Did another land await somewhere? He was certain that Alagaësia was not the only world to exist. He wanted to know, he wanted to see. But the chance would never come to him Eragon knew that better than anyone else. Sighing, his mind drifted off to Arya's words. She wanted to tell him something when he returned. What could it be? There was nothing about her that he did not already know. Well close to nothing, there were a few secrets that he was positive that Arya have yet to tell him but he was never the seeking type to begin with.

A tingle ran about his spine as he thought of his night with Arya before they had departed. He could still smell her on him despite the fact that he had been flying in the winds for some time now. There was a faint scent of crushed pine needles on his skin, a mark that Arya had been with him. He smirked slightly as he thought about how his caresses, despite her best efforts, had reduced her to incoherency when she gasped at him, her breath hitching over his name due to her heightened sensitivity after rising to peak and crashing down so many times. And her wanton smile afterwards made him want to throw himself into the cool waves as his body started to heat.

_Now is not the time, _Eragon shook himself from his thoughts trying not to let the emptiness of not having Arya by his side affect him too much. They had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. And while missing his mate was a dire matter to Eragon. It was not to the whole of Alagaësia. Controlling his emotions, he turned to Saphira as she continued to stare at the ocean.

Walking over to her, he placed a hand on her snout watching as she blinked as if startled to see him. Smiling slightly, he reached behind her jaw and began to gently tickle her. "Have you made a decision yet Saphira?" asked Eragon watching as her sapphire eyes rolled to face him.

_I want to fly straight to Vroengard, _said Saphira. She was not hesitant nor uncertain despite the fact that there was a storm brewing and the fact that she would be constantly over the waters unable to rest if she wanted to. Eragon stared at her for a moment. He trusted her and her confidence in herself. However, he did not like the idea of pitting Saphira against the storm. There are times when nature won out even against a dragon. He thought of the Menoa tree and frowned slightly. There were times when they had to bow their head to the natural order of things.

_I know I can do it, _said Saphira as she felt his thoughts and slight hesitancy. Eragon stared at her knowing that she believed it as well.

_You have never before been to Vroengard, _said Glaedr. _And if there is a storm, it might drive you far out to sea, or worse. More than one dragon has perished because of overweening confidence. The wind is not your friend, Saphira. It can help you, but it can also destroy you. _

_I am not a hatchling to be instructed about the wind! _

_No, but you are still young, and I do not think you are ready for this. _

Almost as if pleadingly, Saphira turned her gaze to Eragon. If he denied her choice and went with Glaedr then she would have to take the second option which mean that they would have to spend half a day or more flying along the coastline before turning west to Vroengard. They could not waste their time seeing as they would need it when they were searching for the Rock of Kuthian on Vroengard. After a moment, he sighed. He could never deny Saphira. To be honest, he could never deny women in general it seemed. It was a horrible characteristic of his but he found himself caving into their requests more often than not. Arya, Saphira, and his mother being on the top of the list followed by Nasuada and his servants.

"Are you certain that you can do this Saphira?" asked Eragon.

_As certain as I can be, _she said. That was enough for him. He was her rider and as such her had to place faith in her. Even if it was blind faith. Nonetheless, if Saphira believed herself capable he would not go against her wishes. She had yet to fly them into their deaths. Hearing his thoughts, he felt her hum contently beneath his hand which rested on her shoulder now. She was pleased with his thinking.

_Then we have to chance it, _said Eragon to Glaedr. _If need be, can you guide her, Glaedr? Help her? _

The old dragon was quiet for a while; then he surprised Eragon by humming in his mind just as Saphira was humming at the moment. _Very well. If we are to tempt fate, then let us not be cowards about it. Across the sea it is. _

The matter settled, Eragon climbed back onto Saphira, and with a single bound, she left behind the safety of solid land and took flight over the trackless waves. As she flew, he heard her thoughts in his mind. _Sleep Eragon, you must conserve your strength for I may need it. _

Understanding her words he nodded and despite the uncomfortable position to sleep in, he closed his eyes. It was odd how reluctant he felt to sleep despite the fact that he loved sleep and would do anything he could for it, he did not like the fact that he had to let Saphira brave the darkness and the never changing surface of the waters by herself. But had reminded himself that Glaedr would be with her and that he would keep her company with his thoughts and hopefully maybe even Oromis could as well. Closing his eyes, he slept and let his waking dreams come to him once more.

_Shifting against the soft mattress beneath him, he continued to sleep burrowing deeper into his pillow refusing to wake despite the soft calls of the birds trilling nearby signaling the rise of the sun and the start of a new day. He felt a soft hand glide over his trying to ease his arms but he refused. He did not want to let the warm mass beside him escape. He felt annoyed at having to constantly wake up without her by his side for the past two weeks and refused to give in despite her coaxing words and soft gestures. Feeling her shift in his arms once more, Eragon scowled lightly and tightened his arms about her pulling her to him as he continued to try and sleep. _

"_Sleep Arya," said Eragon leaving no room in his voice for her to argue. "You do not have to rise with the sun every day and I refuse to let you wake without me." _

"_Then wake now," came her voice and despite the imprisonment within his arms she sounded like she was enjoying herself. Ignoring her words, he continued to sleep, oblivious to the world. He was not waking now and would continue to sleep the day away if he could. The next person who tried to wake him, he would be unforgiving towards. Just as he was about to slip into sleep once more, he felt a wave of amusement from the person beside him, her emotions swirling within him. _

_There was a tremendous bang before he heard light footsteps padding their way to their bed before a small and light figure landed on him, small hands pressing against his face effectively waking him from his sleep. He groaned and tried to burrow deeper into his pillow but the tinkling laughter that sounded in his ear made it impossible to sleep. He heard them both laughing one more musical than the other which was more innocent and bright. _

"_Will you insist on sleeping now Eragon?" he heard his mate's amused voice above him. Once more the small hands reached forward and he felt them tangle in his hair, not roughly though. "Do you think you can wake your father little one?"_

"_Wake up father," the small hands tugged on his hair but he refused to give in. With his strong arms, he reached out and wrapped it about the soft being on top of him and with a gentle tug placed her to the side in his Arya's arms as he rolled about refusing to wake. _

_There was a sound between exasperation and fondness, "After all these years you still have not changed," he felt a soft hand graze his cheek. It was small but not as small as the other one, and the fingers were elegant and experienced as they traced his cheeks. "Perhaps more persuasion is needed?" _

_He felt a small body against his back before small arms tried to wrap about his side, shaking him slightly. "Wake father," the voice pleaded with him, trembling slightly. Never one to deny that voice, he sighed and surrendered, admitting defeat. Slowly as if afraid that he might be blinded, he tiredly opened his eyes to find two faces hovering over him both strikingly similar to each other. He stared up at Arya, her hair cascading down the side of her face her emerald eyes sparkling before his eyes wandered to the child draped over his side. Her own ebony hair was long, falling past her shoulders to the middle of her small back and her wide verdant eyes were bright with her innocence and youth. _

_Seeing the look of utter defeat on his face, his daughter laughed as he turned to her allowing her to crawl into his arms where Arya once was. "Do you two love me at all?" asked Eragon as he laid there, tired. "I have to spend all day teaching the students and I cannot even rest past sunrise." _

"_Do not show such poor form so early in the morning Eragon," said Arya as she smiled down at them. "After so many years of taking up the mantle of our leader, you still need someone to prod you awake." He did not respond to her but rather he sat up and settled his daughter in his lap. _

"_And you turned our daughter against me as well," said Eragon accusingly as he stared at his mate, his hand stroking his daughter's beautiful hair. _

"_It appears as if your father is the child this morning," said Arya as she gently took their five year old daughter from his lap, sliding from the large bed. Though their daughter was five, she was rather small and her sweet beauty made anyone who came across her want to melt. The radiance of her skin outshined her mother's. "Wash Eragon, we shall wait for you in the kitchen." _

_He sighed and watched as she glided away with their daughter, who smiled at him no doubt enjoying how her mother had easily put him in his place once more. Sliding out of the bed, he stood and made his way towards the side door, his feet padding across the stone floor of his chambers before he made his way into the washroom where he went about the basic early morning ritual of cleaning himself. When he was done, he exited the washroom to find the bedroom empty. Walking to the door on the opposite side, he opened it and walked the short hallway into the kitchen. While Arya was busy preparing food, their daughter was watching her with an intent gaze as if to memorize her elegant movements. _

_She was changed from her sleep clothes into a deep azure dress lined with gold tints. He smiled and made his way over to their daughter and took her face in his hands watching as her red lips curved upwards. "Good morning little one," he bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead. When she was born there had been a silent agreement between he and Arya that they would not withhold their affections for their daughter since they both had painful struggles with their own parents. They wanted their daughter to grow up laughing, signing, and dancing without fear of any impending doom as Arya had once put it. _

"_Good morning father," she smiled up at him showing her white small teeth. _

"_There is a report from Blödhgarm in the study," said Arya as she crushed some leaves in her hand to pour into a wooden goblet to make tea. He nodded and made his way to the study allowing their daughter to hug his leg as he walked. Entering the study lined with book shelves, he picked up the scroll and read it. It was as he expected. When he was done, he rerolled the scroll and bent down to pick up his daughter allowing her to wrap her small legs about his waist and her arms about his neck and he returned to find Arya already sitting at the table. She glanced at the two of them and smiled. _

"_If you keep carrying her about, you will spoil her," said Arya as Eragon place their daughter in her seat between them. "She is capable of walking by herself Eragon." _

"_If I can carry her why let her walk?" he said as he drank the tea from his goblet. He tasted honey and a hint of raspberry in the warm liquid. _

"_My mother will be most displeased to know that her granddaughter may end up spoilt," said Arya as she took a bite of her salad. He merely chuckled. Queen Islanzadí spoiled her granddaughter more than their parents ever could. She was the jewel of the elves—of Alagaësia._

"_Are we going to visit grandmother for the mid-summer festival?" their daughter asked. Since she was the daughter of an elf and a person who now constituted an elf more than anything, she had gained their ability to easily pick up on knowledge. _

"_You went last year," said Arya as she gestured for their daughter to eat. "Perhaps another year we shall return for the festival." _

_Their daughter stared at them and Eragon blinked when her emerald eyes sparkled and her lips appeared to tremble as she stared at them imploringly. For a five year old, she knew how to manipulate others well thought Eragon both proud and amused as he watched Arya struggle to remain as the dignified mother she was. Deciding to answer for her, Eragon nodded. "I shall speak with Oromis-elda about a possible chance for us to leave for but a few weeks." _

"_Eragon," said Arya sharply. He raised a brow at her as if daring her to deny their daughter her request. Not raised amongst elves but amongst all sorts of races, their daughter had grown to understand how certain reactions would get specific rises out of people and as she used it to the fullest. Particularly on her parents. She was not reserved as an elf but neither was she outright like a human. There was a perfect balance. When their daughter turned her gaze to her mother, Arya was frozen as if caught by her childish stare. Then she inwardly sighed admitting defeat. "I shall tell the dragons while your father is teaching." _

"_Can I go and tell grandmother?" their daughter asked once more utilizing her imploring look. They both nodded to her watching as she hurried to the study where the enchanted mirror was that was set to connect to the other enchanted mirrors about Alagaësia to keep them connected. He highly doubt that Islanzadí would be ready and waiting for her granddaughter to call for her. When she was safely out of earshot, Eragon chuckled while Arya sighed. _

"_We are spoiling her," said Arya in what appeared to be a shamed voice. _

"_What is wrong with doting on our beautiful daughter?" asked Eragon lightly as he took another drink of his tea. "Delicious tea I must admit." _

"_Thank you," said Arya as she took another bite of her salad. "I do not want our daughter to grow up to be spoilt like you Eragon, refusing to rise from bed when the sun is high up in the sky and the world ready to shift about her." There was malicious intent to her words, she merely said it as if she was stating a fact which he had admitted long ago back during the second war. _

"_She will not, she is your daughter as well," said Eragon eyeing his mate across the table from him. She looked like when he had first met, without a change to her beautiful and youthful appearance. However, her face was no longer emotionless and stoic. She was happy now, very much so. "Which I admit is a gift from the gods." _

"_You are not hideous Eragon," said Arya amused as she leaned forward amused, "Have I not shown you time and again just how fair you look?" Her eyes darted down the stone hallway that led to their study. "In any case, it appears that I should have know this would happen had we our own daughter." _

"_Why is that?" asked Eragon curiously. _

"_Your spoiling of Ella was as good as any indication as to how you would spoil our daughter," she said drinking her tea. _

"_A fine woman my younger sister has turned out to be," said Eragon smiling at the mention of Ella. "However, I extend my condolences to Murtagh. She has been a force to be reckoned with in the tournaments it seems. He believes that she may have taken a liking to the Urgal ways, the way she defeats her opponents." _

"_Such exaggeration," said Arya smiling, she paused turning serious. Her emerald eyes were soft. "You cannot keep her away from her studies no longer. I heard word from Murtagh that she is more than capable now, Eragon. Have you tested her enough now? I believe she is ready." _

"_Perhaps," said Eragon softly as he heard soft padding of feet run towards them. _

"_Do not run in the chambers little one," said Arya as their daughter reappeared looking excited and yet chastised by her mother. She nodded and gracefully climbed into her seat still too small to gracefully sit on the wooden chair. "What did your grandmother say?" _

"_She cannot wait to see us," their daughter spewed excitedly and she continued to speak excitedly in the ancient language as they had taught her about the upcoming mid-summer festival. They listened to her excitedly speak about the festival and was glad that she held such a great interest in the world about her. She was not stagnant but forever moving thought Eragon as his eyes flickered over to his mate as she listened to their daughter, her hand stroking her ebony tresses. They had come a long way. _

When the first pales rays of light streaked across the surface of the dimpled sea, illuminating the crests of the translucent waves—which glittered as if carved from crystal—then Eragon roused himself from his waking dreams. Blinking tiredly he rubbed the back of his neck which ached from his position sleeping sitting upright. Was that a dream? That felt so real. Lately, he had been having dreams about a future together with Arya and a daughter, that had no name, but she was as real to him as any living person was. It was those dreams that moved him. He wanted to save those dreams. He had realized some time ago that if they did not win against Galbatorix, that dream would be killed and so will the hope of a family with Arya.

He lifted his head his dreams fading away as he was curious to see what the light revealed of the clouds building in the distance. What he beheld was disconcerting—so much that he had forgotten about the wonderful dream he had just had. The clouds encompassed nearly half the horizon, and the largest of the dense white plumes looked as tall as the peaks of the Beor Mountains, too tall for Saphira to climb over. The only open sky lay behind her, and even that would be lost to them as the arms of the storm closed in.

_We shall have to fly through it, _said Glaedr, and Eragon felt Saphira's trepidation.

_Why not try to go around? _She asked.

_I do not want you flying too far off course. It is best to be cautious in our recklessness. I have seen the likes of this storm before. It is larger than you think. To skirt it, you would have to fly so far to the west that you would end up beyond Vroengard, and it would probably take another day to rest land. _

_You can do it Saphira,_ said Eragon certain in her skills and prowess.

_You do not need to go through its very heart. Do you see the notch between those two small pillars off to the west? _

_Yes. _

_Go there, and perhaps we can then find a safe path through the clouds. _Eragon grasped at the front of the saddle as Saphira dropped her left shoulder and turned westward, aiming herself toward the notch Glaedr had indicated. While she flew forward, he reached behind him for a pear to eat not feeling hungry. The dream from earlier had come back to him and left him feeling quiet fulfilled. As he bit into the pear letting its sweetness wash over him, he thought of the dream and he and Arya's daughter in the dream. There was never a name in the dream, not the slightest mention of it. But rather they used the endearment '_little one' _with their daughter. It was an endearment that Saphira often used with Eragon himself. It was odd and yet very touching that it carried on to his daughter. Even if it was in a dream. He took another bite. If they had a daughter, what would they name her? For some reason he found himself wishing that children could be like dragons and decide a name for themselves but he was sure that if he ever said that thought aloud, females across the land would scorn him.

While he ate, he alternated between watching the clouds and gazing at the sparkling sea. He found it unsettling that there was nothing but water beneath them and that the nearest solid ground—the mainland—was, by his estimate, over fifty miles away. He took another bite as his eyes glanced down at the waters once more wandering what could be living below. He had traveled all about Alagaësia, seeing plenty of sights but never before had he traveled underneath the surface of the sea. It made him very curious.

While Saphira flew, he spent his time trying to amuse her and lighten her burden by thinking of some maiden names for a possible daughter if his dream was something to go by. However, every time he thought of a name and tried to repeat it by imagining the young five year old in his dreams, it never fit. And so he would continue tossing names from his mind since none seem to fit the mold of his daughter. Still thinking much he tried to think of elven names for her since human names appeared bland to him. Could he name her Arya? At the thought of it, he shook his head. That would be too confusing. He did not want it to be a handful. After a long moment, Eragon sighed.

_Look at you Eragon, a Rider and Shadeslayer daydreaming over a name for a daughter you do not even have, _he berated himself taking a vicious bite of his pear at his own childish behavior. Well, not childish but rather useless behavior. After a moment, a beautiful solution came to him: to let Arya decide. Pleased with himself, he nodded as Saphira continued to fly.

As the morning wore on, it became apparent that the clouds were farther away than they had first seemed and that, as Glaedr had said, the storm was larger than either Eragon or Saphira had originally imagined. It was a peaceful flight and as they neared the storm Eragon blinked when Saphira took a shallow dive flying close to the surface of the water. Was she thirsty?

When he went to ask her she replied, _I'm curious. And I would like to rest my wings before entering the clouds. _

She skimmed over the waves, her reflection below and her shadow in front mirroring her every move like two ghostly companions, one dark and one light. Then she swiveled her winds on edge and, with three quick flaps, slowed herself and landed upon the water. A fine spray shot up on either side of her neck as her chest plowed into the waves, sprinkling Eragon with hundreds of droplets.

Not moved by the cold water droplets that landed on his skin, Eragon did not question Saphira as she folded her wings alongside her and bobbed peacefully up and down with the motion of the waves. Far overhead, he could see the wall of clouds as it grew showing the storm that they were about to brave in order to fly to Vroengard. Arching her neck, she dipped her muzzle into the seawater, then shook her head and ran her crimson tongue in and out of her mouth several times, as if she tasted something unpleasant.

Then he felt a pang of panic from Glaedr, and the old dragon roared in his mind: _Take off! Now, now, now! Take off! _

No questions were asked and with a sound like thunder, she opened her wings and began to beat them as she reared out of the water. Gripping one of Saphira's spike to avoid being thrown backwards, he had to use Glaedr's mind to see through the flurry of water about them as Saphira continued to beat her wings. He saw it there from deep below Saphira. Rising toward Saphira's underside faster than Eragon would have believed he felt something that was large and icy with an insatiable hunger. It was an alien creature thought Eragon as he sought to distract it from attacking Saphira and due to its alien nature, he could not afford to not worry about the possibility of them becoming a meal for whatever was approaching.

She slowly gained speed and altitude, and then a fountain of white water erupted behind her, and Eragon saw a pair of shiny gray jaws emerge from within the plume—jaws lined with hundreds of glittering white teeth. Whatever the creature was, it was made to kill and to do so viciously. Twisting to the side to avoid the deadly creature below them, he blinked when he heard a clean snap of jaws coming together and he saw that Saphira's tail narrowly escaped the hungry creature.

As the creature fell to the water, he could see that it was not a creature to be messed with and as Glaedr explained to them about the creature he could not help but try to ingrain the image of the creature in his mind. He would remember its angular head, its snake-like neck, and its powerful torso on which at each side were flippers. Arya would not doubt like to see a Nïdhwal, even if it was in his memories. As Saphira ascended into the sky towards the mushroom of clouds. The danger beneath them gone, they now had to brace themselves for the storm to come and in due time hopefully reach Vroengard to search for the Rock of Kuthian.

**The reason for the post war fluff? I just wanted to. It may be a dream, it may not. Who knows? Read onward and you shall all find out. To be honest though, I wrote that short bit because I've always wanted to read a story whether long or short in which it showed Eragon and Arya as well as their interactions with their child (be it boy or girl). This chapter is just to satisfy my own curiosity about life after the war. (It makes it very appealing to write truthfully). And I put this post-war fluff in here to just show you all the possibilities in store in the post-war chapter (involving the tournament, building a new Rider legacy, a possible child for ExA, Murtagh's role in Alagaesia, Ella's growth, Nasuada's complication with overuse of magic, etc). So I hope you enjoy this little 'dream' of Eragon's. Anyways, I shall struggle through the next chapter and write it diligently. See you all soon. **

**P.S.-I had read in a review that the elves had sailed to Alagaesia to escape some mysterious force (which is funny because I somewhat spoke about that in this chapter; maybe not directly but it was there). Can anyone tell me where I can read where it mentions that in the original? It's been some time since I've thoroughly looked through the original books. Thank you all in advance. **


	94. Chapter 90

Chapter 90

**Back again everyone and sorry about no update yesterday. Family problems and just sheer exhaustion has prevented me from doing so. Also the fact that I really dislike this chapter. If I had my way I would have made it so that there was some interlude in between like Arya's POV and then next chapter Eragon and Saphira were at Vroengard but it always seemed to rushed in my opinion. Another reason I greatly dislike this chapter is because I had to borrow tremendously from the original chapter in Inheritance (A Crown of Ice and Snow). I tried writing without it but my mind couldn't come up with ways to portray Saphira in a thunderstorm. It makes me cringe every time I use something from Paolini (especially so close to the end) but I'll make up for it in the chapters to follow everyone and ESPECIALLY in the ending. (Standard Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Inheritance, everything belongs to CP). That said, you may read this chapter but in my opinion it is very boring and close to the original. R&R everyone. **

The headwind strengthened into a blustery gale as they neared the front of the storm, slowing Saphira until she was flying at half her normal speed. Now and then, powerful gusts rocked her and sometimes stopped her dead in her course for a few moments. They always knew when the gusts were about to strike, for they could see a silvery, scale-like pattern rushing toward them across the surface of the water.

Since dawn, the clouds had only increased in size, and up close, they were even more intimidating. Near the bottom, they were dark and purplish, with curtains of driving rain connecting the storm with the sea. Higher up, the clouds were the color of tarnished silver, while the very tops were pure, blinding white and appeared as solid as the flanks of Tronjheim. To the north, over the center of the storm, the clouds had formed a gigantic flat-topped anvil that loomed over all else, as if the gods themselves intended to forge some strange and terrible instrument.

As Saphira soared between two bulging white columns—beside which she was no more than a speck—and the sea vanished beneath a field of pillow-like clouds, the headwind abated and the air grew rough and choppy, swirling about them without an identifiable direction. Clenching his teeth to keep them from clacking at the chill of the storm, Eragon blinked as Saphira rose into the air to avoid another gush of wind her eyes focused on the formations in the storm about them.

She knew how to fly in a storm but none such as this before thought Eragon. They had flew in a few thunderstorms over the few years they'd been together in order to fulfill Galbatorix's instructions and sometimes out of their misfortunes they found themselves having no other way but to go straight into a thunderstorm. However that was all over land and if Saphira found herself unable to bear the harsh winds, she would land and fold her wings in before the winds would use her wings to lift her up and toss her about. However there was no land beneath them and the waters, the three of had learned, was not safe with the Nïdhwal underneath the surface waiting for Saphira to land to eat her.

Trying to calm Saphira for the storm that she was about to brave, Eragon opened his thoughts to her keeping the most private ones with Arya locked tightly away knowing that would certainly not do to offer her any type of support. Instead, he showed her their memories when they were younger and she was barely a year old. It was after he was freed from Faust. He showed her of the first time they went hunting together in which Eragon watched as Saphira quietly snuck up on her prey—an elk that was drinking from a waterhole—and snapped the animal up in her jaws unawares. He showed her of their first flight together as Rider and dragon. He could feel her gratitude as those memories washed over her as she flew against the storm.

A stray, wind-torn scrap of cloud lay across Saphira's path. Instead of flying around it, she went straight thought it, piercing the cloud like a glittering blue spear. As the gray mist enveloped them, the sound of the wind grew muted, and Eragon squinted against the mist that hit him in the face, coating his skin in water droplets. When they shot out of the cloud, millions of tiny droplets clung to Saphira's body, and she sparkled as if diamonds had been affixed to her already dazzling scales.

Her flight continued to be unsettled; one more she would be level, but the next unruly air might shove her of course or disturb her orientation in the sky. It was not that Saphira was not a master of the winds or the sky; it was the fact that her energy was limited and they had leagues still left to travel. The storm was a product of nature and as such did not live off of the energy of the body but rather of nature itself. As she flew, Eragon could feel her frustration mixed with her determination to win out of the storm and had even told her that the moment they were free she would be a dragon unlike no other—young and brave enough to fly through a thunderstorm when she wasn't at her best.

After an hour or two they still had not sighted the far side of the tempest. Glaedr said, _We have to turn. You've gone as far west as is prudent, and if we're dare the full wrath of the storm, we had best do it now, before you are any more exhausted. _

Without a word, Saphira wheeled north and toward the vast, towering cliff of sunlit clouds that occupied the heart of the giant storm. As they neared the ridged face of the cliff—which was the largest single thing Eragon had ever seen, larger even than Farthen Dûr—blue flashes illuminated the folds within as lightning crawled upward, toward the top of the anvil head. A moment later, a clap of thunder shook the sky, causing Eragon to wince as he covered his ears with his hands. His senses were so sensitive that he thought he might be bleeding from the high intensity of the sound. Not worried about the crackling bolts of energy seeing as their wards protected them from them, he focused on trying to block out the tremendous sounds about him.

If Saphira was frightened, he did not sense it. All he could feel was her determination. She quickened the beat of her winds, and a few minutes later they arrived at the face of the cliff and then plunged through it and into the center of the storm. Twilight surrounded them, gray and featureless.

It was as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. The clouds made it impossible for Eragon to judge any distance past the tips of Saphira's nose, tail, and wings. They were effectively blind, and only the constant pull of their weight let them differentiate up from down. Glancing below them, he frowned unable to see the sea beneath and feeling cautious, he casted a spell that would inform both he and Saphira exactly how close they were to the water—or the ground—at any given moment.

From the moment they entered the cloud, the ever-present moisture began to accumulate on Eragon's skin and soak into his woolen clothes, weighing them down. It was an annoyance that he could contend with had they not been flying in a thunderstorm rather high in the air where the chilling effects and the gusts of winds chilled him to the very core. As such, he wove another spell about them that would dry him and would filter the air about him of any visible water droplets. He did the same for the area about Saphira's eyes for water would accumulate on the surface and forced her to blink too many times.

The worst of it had yet to come and his thoughts were only too true for as Saphira flew a ferocious updraft slammed into her underside and carried her thousands of feet higher, where the air was too thin for Eragon to breathe freely. The mist was frozen into countless tiny crystals at such an altitude and cut into their skin, stinging Eragon's hose and cheeks as well as biting into the webbing of Saphira's wings.

Pinning her wings against her sides, Saphira dove forward, trying to escape the updraft. After a few seconds, the pressure underneath her vanished, only to be replaced by an equally powerful downdraft, which shoved her towards the waves at a frightful speed. Suddenly all Eragon could think of was the fact that they might become mince meat for the Nïdhwal in the ocean. He could see them flying straight into its open mouth and its razor sharp teeth.

Only near the bottom of the clouds did Saphira managed to be free of the fast-flowing stream of air. As soon as she did, a second updraft seized hold of her and pushed her skyward once more.

That was how their flight played out for a long time to come. However, after an hour of struggling to achieve a few scant miles, Saphira after Eragon's suggestion had decided to merely ride the winds only defying them when she was pushed too close to the surface of the water to avoid them from being eaten. It was dizzying for Eragon and he knew that she did not like to be turned into a ragdoll in a territory that she was born for—the sky—but it was needed. They had to conserve her energy and at times, Eragon could feel Glaedr channeling some of his energy into Saphira when she needed it.

Eventually, what light there was began to fade, and despair settled upon Eragon. They had spent the better part of the day being forced to fly according to the tempest which showed no sign of subsiding, nor did it seem as if Saphira was anywhere close to its perimeter.

Once the sun had set, the darkness of the coming night swallowed them whole. It made him frustrated and he wanted to use his magic to form a werelight but it would undoubtedly defeat the purpose for everything about them had not shifted nor changed since Saphira had entered the heart of the thunderstorm. Every few seconds, another flash of lightning split the gloom, sometimes hidden within the clouds, sometimes streaking across their field of vision, glaring with the brightness of a dozen suns and leaving the air tasting like iron. He was constantly blinded by every flash of lightning that tore through the air about them. As close as the bolts came, they never struck Saphira, but the constant roll of thunder left Eragon and Saphira feeling sick from the noise. His ears were ready to bleed out with every clap and he tried once more to think of it as mind of matter. When he felt the shift in the air that signaled another loud clap of thunder, he would think of more pleasant sounds and would temporarily seek asylum in his own mind away from Saphira and Glaedr to hear it.

Then at some point in the night, Saphira entered a torrent of rising air that was far large and far stronger than any they had previously encountered. As soon as it struck them, Saphira began to struggle at first on instinct but eventually gave way to the wind allowing it to carry them higher. Due to this, Eragon with Glaedr's help had woven an enchantment about them to keep them warm and prevent them from being killed by the chills as well as to allow them to breathe at the higher altitude where the air was less dense. Very much so.

They waited, then, while the wind lifted them higher and higher. Minutes passed, and the howling of the wind gradually grew softer. Even the bone jarring claps of thunder seemed muted and when Eragon dug the scraps of cloth out of his ears, he was astonished to find that silence surrounded them. He still heard a faint susurration in the background but otherwise, it was blessedly quiet and peaceful about them.

As the clamor of the angry storm faded, he also noticed that the strain imposed by his spells was increasing—not so much from the enchantment that prevented their bodily heat from dissipating quickly in the chilling air, but from the enchantment that collected and compressed the atmosphere in front of him and Saphira and he was grateful when Glaedr had reached out to assist them in maintaining the spell. With the elves at their disposal, they had enough energy to maintain the spell. Queen Islanzadí had made it so that any elves which were not currently at work on some task would come and assist by donating their energy through their link to Eragon and Saphira through Glaedr's Eldunarí. It was a way to channel energy between them but they were reluctant to draw on too much of the elves' energy in case they were attacked seeing as they were fairly close to Urû'baen at the moment.

And so they continued onward through the storm.

At long last, Saphira detected a slackening of the wind—slight but noticeable—and she began to prepare to fly out of the stream of air. Before she could, the clouds above them thinned, and Eragon glimpsed a few glittering specks: stars, white and slivery and brighter than any before.

_Look, _he said. Then the clouds opened up around them, and Saphira rose out of the storm and hung above it, balancing precariously atop the column of rushing wind. Laid out below them, Eragon saw the whole of the storm, extending for what must have been a hundred miles in every direction. The center appeared as an arching, mushroom-like dome, smoothed off by the vicious crosswinds that swept west to east and threatened to topple Saphira from her perch. The clouds both near and far were milky and seemed almost luminous, as if lit from within. They looked beautiful and benign—placid, unchanging formations that betrayed nothing of the violence inside.

Then Eragon noticed the sky, and he felt a sense of wonder surge through him at the sight of the numerous stars that hovered before him. Red, blue, white, and gold, they lay strewn upon the vast dark sky like handfuls of sparkling dust. There were constellations he was familiar with but not set among thousands of fainter stars, which he beheld for the very first time. How many times had he sat on top of the tallest tower in his manor at Urû'baen staring at the night sky wondering what existed outside of their small world? How many times had he studied the stars and constellations believing that in each one another world existed? It was overwhelming to think that he had been so blinded before. This was a different night sky.

He stared at the spectacular display for several moments, awestruck by the glorious, random, unknowable nature of the twinkling lights. Only when he finally lowered his gaze did it occur to him that there was something unusual about the purple-hued horizon. Instead of the sky and the sea meeting, the juncture between them curved, like the edge of an unimaginably big circle. Eragon blinked.

_The world is round. _

He could feel that Glaedr was impressed but Eragon was struck. If they flew—no if they sailed about the ocean would they make a full circle? Would they come about like a sphere rotating? The elves homeland laid somewhere before them as well as humans, Urgals, and Ra'zac for they had all sailed to Alagaësia. He wanted to keep flying past Vroengard to see the new sights, to travel. The horizon that he had always thought as a sign of freedom grew even more so. There were sights out there that only a free person could see. Was there flaming waters? Or even frosted lands further out? He wanted to know. He longed to know. There was a past history and origin for everything and he wanted to know what it was for the races before they sailed to Alagaësia.

If only Arya could see it with him. If only see could experience how free he felt at the moment, how unburdened it felt to him to gaze down on the world like this. It was beautiful, it was encompassing and he sought to remember it for her so that when the time came she would be able to gaze down at the never ending horizon—the possibilities of a world beyond Alagaësia. What waited far away from them? What could it be? So many questions and yet he knew no answers. The world was bigger than he had originally thought it to be.

To the east, a faint yellow glow tinted a section of the horizon, presaging the return of the sun. Eragon guessed that if Saphira held her position for another four or five minutes, they would see it rise, even though it would still be hours before the warm, life-giving rays reached the water below. Saphira balanced there for a moment more before she tipped forward and half flew, half fell northward for the air was so sparse that her winds could not fully support her weight once she left the stream of rising wind.

Seeing the world like that below him made him reevaluate what he believed the world was. The war between the Varden and the Empire seemed inconsequential when compared to the true size of the world. There was so much out there, so much to search for. Will a day ever come when he would risk everything and chance to meet another world? Maybe if he lived for a millennium or maybe more. But he knew this much: he longed to see what was beyond the horizon. And he longed to take Arya with him to see it as well. Everything was much more beautiful when he thought of it in that aspect and in terms of having his mate by his side. One day…it would happen.

Saphira soon dropped back into the darkness of the clouds, but she managed to avoid getting caught in another cycle of rising and falling air. Instead, she glided for many miles, skipping off the tops of the other, lower updrafts packed within the storm, using them to help conserve her strength.

An hour or two later, the fog parted, and they flew out of the mass of clouds that formed the center of the storm. They descended to skim over the insubstantial foothills piled about its base, which gradually flattened into a quilted blanket that covered everything in sight, with the sole exception of the anvil head itself.

By the time the sun finally appeared above the horizon, neither Eragon nor Saphira had the energy to pay much attention to their surroundings. Nor was there anything to attract their attention.

It was Glaedr, then, who said, _Saphira, there to your right. Do you see it? _

Eragon lifted his head off of his folded arms and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Some miles to the north, a ring of mountains rose out of the clouds. The peaks were clad in snow and ice, and together they looked like an ancient jagged crown resting atop the layers of mist. The eastward-facing scarps shone brilliantly in the light of the morning sun, while long blue shadows cloaked the western sides and stretched dwindling into the distance, tenebrous daggers upon the billowy, snow-white plain.

Eragon straightened in his seat, his mind not registering what it was that laid before them.

_Behold, _said Glaedr, _Aras Thelduin, the fire mountains that guard the heart of Vroengard. Fly quickly Saphira, for we have but a little farther to go. _

Hearing his words Saphira continued to fly, her wings beating rapidly as she sought to close the remaining distance between them and Vroengard. He watched in amazement as the island grew in size as they neared. The home of the Riders or rather what was once the home of an Order that was so powerful, their leaders stood and stared down at the world below them. Had he really dreamed of going to Vroengard before? Had the thought really crossed his mind?

Was this real?

But then against why wouldn't it be? The three of them had braved a thunderstorm to get here. They were buffeted by harsh winds, deprived of warm air, and nearly eaten alive by a giant creature that lived beneath the surface of the waters. Yet here it was Vroengard and on the island was the once glorious city of Doru Araeba. He stared at the island remembering Arya's yearning to visit the home of the Riders and he swore to himself once more that he and Saphira would return to the island with Eridor and Arya. He would not watch as the island neared the second time but rather, he would turn and study Arya as they neared. He would watch as her eyes widened in amazement and awe and how she would part her lips as if she was going to exclaim or say something but remain silent, reveling in the sights quietly and to herself.

But as they neared the island, his thoughts wandered over to the task at hand. Once they landed and Saphira had rested, they had to search for the Rock of Kuthian and the Vault of Souls. It could be anything thought Eragon seeing as Glaedr could not remember the name of the location much less its whereabouts or image. However they were going to find the Rock of Kuthian, they had to do it blind. He was going to have to feel for it somehow. Feel from the Rock of Kuthian or maybe luck would finally rain down on them and would reveal the location to him.

Then he thought of the force that had drawn them here. It was on Vroengard Island no doubt. Whatever it was, it was waiting for them. Eragon was unsure of their skills against this mysterious force. But if they could enchant the whole of Alagaësia, Eragon doubted that they could best whatever laid waiting for them. They had to step right else be drawn in unknowingly. The Varden needed them and they couldn't perish on some island while the war continued. If they failed, he would never be able to die in shame. It would be too much for him to carry.

The thick gray clouds parted, and from his place on Saphira's back. Eragon beheld the interior of Vroengard Island. Before them was a huge bowl-shaped valley, encircled by the steep mountains they had seen poking through the tops of the clouds. A dense forest of spruce, pine, and fir trees blanketed the sides of the mountains as well as the foothills below, like an army of prickly soldiers marching down from the peaks. The trees were mournful, and even from a distance Eragon could see the beards of moss and lichen that hung from their heavy branches. Scraps of white mist clung to the sides of the mountains, and in several places throughout the valley, diffuse curtains of rain drifted from the ceiling of the clouds.

He leaned forward trying to make out more details of the island below them. A dozen or more rivers flowed out of the mountains and wandered across the verdant ground until they poured into a large, still lake near the center of valley. Around the lake lay the remnants of the Rider's city, Doru Araeba. The buildings were immense—just as it was described in the texts that he read about Doru Araeba. Almost all the buildings were damaged, some more severely than others. The damage seemed to radiate outward from a single point near the southern edge of the city, where a wide crater sank more than thirty feet into the ground. The open areas within the city were overgrown with weeds and brush, while a fringe of grass surrounded each of the flagstones that formed the streets. Where the buildings had sheltered the Rider's gardens from the blast that had ravaged the city, dull-colored flowers still grew in artful designs, their shapes no doubt governed by the dictates of some long-forgotten spell.

Then he thought of what Areth had said. The spirits had helped with the blast. They had helped turned Vroengard into such an poisonous island as it was now in search for a way to awaken Alagaësia. If turning an island the size of Vroengard into a death island, what could possibly wake Alagaësia? Was there a key here? Did they even have the time to find the key? If the spirits didn't find it in the thousands of years that they existed, how could Eragon possibly hope to find the key for them.

_Behold the ruins of our pride and glory, _said Glaedr. Then: _Eragon, you must cast another spell. The wording of it goes thus—_And he uttered several lines in the ancient language. It was an odd spell; the phrasing was obscure and convoluted, which slightly baffled Eragon.

When he asked Glaedr about the wording, the old dragon said, _There is an invisible poison here, in the air you breathe, in the ground you walk upon, and in the food you may eat and the water you may drink. The spell will protect us against it. _

_From…Thuviel? _Asked Saphira, her thoughts slow as the beats of her wings, her fatigue shining through. He blinked and opened his mind and though Eragon was tired, he was nowhere near as exhausted as Saphira was and he was more than willing to lend her his strength so that she may alight somewhere soon and rest her tired wings. The old dragon grumbled showing her that she was correct.

Eragon rubbed Saphira's neck encouragingly as she glided downward from the underside of the low-slung clouds, following Glaedr's instructions on where to fly. As they flew the old dragon told them the names of the mountains as they passed and would comment on sights here and there that he recognized or that he thought was significant enough to point out. While Eragon paid heed to Glaedr's narration, he could tell that Saphira was merely trying to stay afloat. Within the dragon's mind, he felt a great sorrow for what once was his—was the Order that protected Alagaësia. It was here that his companions were killed, where they were betrayed by Galbatorix. There was a great loneliness to his thoughts that made Eragon's loneliness when he was younger seem childish almost insignificant. Withdrawing from the dragon's mind to give him a slight privacy to his emotions Eragon continued to study their surroundings.

The lower Saphira flew, the larger the buildings appeared. Near the edge of the abandoned city, he began to notice piles of giant white bones upon the ground: the skeletons of dragons. Staring at the large white bones, he blinked a white rage surging through him. So many skeletons—so many dead. Galbatorix had betrayed the Riders, had took control of Alagaësia all for this? To destroy his own brotherhood and damn a race that was strong and beautiful to near extinction? Staring at the skeletons, he felt his hatred for Galbatorix grow. What the Black King did was unacceptable.

The biggest of the skeletons was one with ribs that he estimated to be at least eighty feet long, and perhaps fifteen wide at their thickest. The skull alone was longer and taller than the main part of Saphira's body. Even Glaedr's body in Eragon's memory appeared diminutive next to the slain dragon.

_There lies Belgabad, greatest of us all, _said Glaedr as he noticed the object of Eragon's attention. Eragon nodded having heard of the name in ancient texts. His eyes continued to scan the ground taking in the bones that stretched out before them. It staggered him and he knew that if the elves saw this—if Arya saw this—they would curse Galbatorix to the deepest parts of hell for inflicting such a tragedy on such noble creatures. He wondered how Saphira felt. Her thoughts and emotions were slow to react due to her fatigue and the fact that she was focused on maintaining her flight in air. But he was sure that when she was well rested, the full reality of the situation would hit her.

Saphira sank through a band of mist, the white haze rolling off the tips of her wings like tiny whirlpools set within the sky. Then a field of tangled grass rushed up at her and she landed with a heavy jolt. Relying on the strength that Eragon and Glaedr was channeling to her, she slid slightly but did not go crashing into the ground. Her pride as a dragon would not allow her to go crashing from the sky. He blinked as she crouched low, moving tiredly against the ground, the straps of the saddles creaking with every movement of her legs.

Not wanting to burden her any longer with his wait and also seeking to walk on solid ground after sitting astride her back for so long, he unstrapped his legs from the saddle and slid down from her back landing evenly on his feet. His boot sank into the damp earth but he could care less. Instead he walked forward staring about the alien surroundings in awe. "This is Vroengard," muttered Eragon unbelieving. He had half the mind to smack himself believing that he might be dreaming and that Arya had indulged him and left him to his dreams. But it was all real.

He walked forward to Saphira's head and when she lowered her head so that she could look at him in the eye, he placed his hands on either side of her long head and affectionately kissed her snout before pressing his forehead to it.

_Thank you Saphira, _said Eragon sincerely, _I am very proud of you. No other dragon has braved such a storm as you have, especially not so young. _

He felt a tinge of pleasure erupt in her mind at his words as well as Glaedr's silent agreement to his statement. Her head began to vibrate as she hummed deep in her chest as sound that always soothed him. After a moment Eragon released her and turned to look at their surroundings.

He walked forward staring about. His eyes roamed over the vines and cracked masonry of the city to which they were at the northern outskirts of. They continued to roam the desolate island, moving over the great library—that Glaedr pointed out—to the trees and that was when he caught the jagged spar of stone well over two hundred feet tall, upon which grew several gnarled junipers.

His heart gave a thud in his chest, that no doubt was the Rock of Kuthian. No other spire stood so tall against the sky. _Do you remember that structure? _Eragon asked Glaedr.

He could feel Glaedr using his eyes to look at the formation, and then the dragon said, _It seems oddly familiar, but I cannot remember when I might have seen it before…_

That was all he needed from the old dragon. Before his answer may have annoyed Eragon but it told him that the spire they were gazing upon was indeed the Rock of Kuthian. Their hopes or what could possibly be their hopes of winning the war laid directly before him. They hurried through the grove, or rather Eragon rushed forward agitated to see the spire while Saphira followed close behind at what appeared to be a crawl.

When they emerged from the grove, Eragon took in the sight of the Rock of Kuthian. It stood upon the edge of a large clearing wherein grew a tangled pool of roses, thistles, raspberries, and water hemlock. He stared at the Rock of Kuthian and was jolted from his thoughts when Saphira all but collapsed beside him nearly sending him to the ground as her weight shook the ground. Worried he turned to Saphira.

She was exhausted and though he felt rushed to try and unravel the mysteries of the Rock of Kuthian, he couldn't afford to put them in danger when they were both weary and Saphira was at her limit. It was time that they rested. They could explore tomorrow together and he would feel better when Saphira was no longer fighting exhaustion.

After finding a safe enough place to camp, Saphira without further ado curled up in the grass and tucked her head under her wind, and wrapped her tail around herself. _Do not wake me unless something is trying to eat us, _she said much to Eragon's amusement. Patting her on the tail, he stood and grabbed his saddlebags where his bedroll was. Spreading it about the ground he laid down beside Saphira—only after he removed his swords and laid them beside him— letting his muscles stretch. Trusting that Glaedr would watch after them, he let his favorite—well third favorite seeing as his first was spending time with Arya and second was spending time with Saphira—pastimes come to him seeing as he was put through the force of a thunderstorm for the entire night and day.

His waking dreams came to him once more and he succumbed to it without resistance glad to be resting on the flat ground. As he slowly lost consciousness to his surroundings, he felt himself smile as a thought crossed his mind. Arya was not by his side and thus there was no one to wake him allowing him to sleep as much as he could possibly want. He would laugh had he not been so tired but he rolled over and slept.

**Such a boring chapter in my opinion. I tried working in some of Eragon's emotions and such to help keep it interesting but it was rather taxing to write. Thank god this chapter is done with. I'll make up for it in the later chapters which I hope will wow you all when you read the upcoming plot twists. You know this chapter nearly sent me into another writer's muse or something. I almost gave up again. Hahaha. But I needed this chapter to show the arrival to Vroengard and I thought CP portrayed it well so I didn't want to change it. (Don't kill me! Haha) Anyways, I've been reading several ExA AU stories and I must admit, those who had recommended them...I thank you for I was hooked. It was a very different perspective to ExA and I liked it. Anyways let's hope I'm not struck by another obstacle. There are so very few chapters remaining...Anyways see you all soon! **


	95. Chapter 91

Chapter 91

**Da dum...da dum...And here is another chapter everyone. We are very close to the one hundred chapter mark and it's making me nervous. Hahaha, well anyways, there isn't much I have to say apart from the fact that the Inheritance Cycle belongs to CP and not me (Standard Disclaimer). Anyways everyone R&R! **

It was late afternoon when Eragon woke. It was a grumpy affair, he had wanted to continue sleeping but a part of him was screaming for him to wake up and not waste the day away. He couldn't shake the feeling of Arya becoming very disappointed in him if he continued to sleep the day away and as such he forced himself awake and for at least five minutes, he sat on his bedroll in confusion. Wondering why he was awake and not sleeping, Eragon blinked once, twice, and thrice before he scowled. Here was his perfect chance to sleep without anyone bothering him and yet his conscience would not let him.

Leaning his head back, he glanced up at the sky taking in the parted clouds in several places allowing for beams of golden light to blanket the valley floor, illuminating the tops of the ruined buildings. Though the valley still looked cold and wet and unwelcoming, the light gave it a newfound majesty. It was a perfect place for the Riders to settle and he understood then why they did so on Vroengard. It was guarded by the stretch of sea and was not easily reached unless one had a large enough boat to transverse the waves or a dragon to fly with. And even then it was a very dangerous method with the Nïdhwal that dwelled beneath the ocean or the possibilities of a thunderstorm in the sky. It made him wonder how the races apart from the dwarves and dragons sailed to Alagaësia.

Stretching his neck slightly, Eragon turned to Saphira to find that she was resting seemingly on the edge of death by the dim light of her consciousness. Stroking her snout lightly in order not to wake her he turned about studying his surroundings, keeping his ears open for any sort of movement in the forest, for anything that may be a threat to him. But all he heard were the high pitch shrieks of two squirrels—squirrels that did not sound like squirrels but imitations of such. They sounded too high, too fast, and too sharp for him to believe that they were normal squirrels and he had half the mind to go search for the source of their voices but the part of Arya that was within him made him hesitant. Then thinking better of it, he ignored the voices but instead thought of what it was that was to come.

If they won the battle and defeated Galbatorix, he was going to become the new leader of the Dragon Riders. Oromis had told him that he was too old to become the leader and that he was unfit to lead the new age. While Arya had said that it would be him who shall receive the title as the leader of the Dragon Riders, he already was but it would be more official. Eragon sighed thinking of that future, the future where he would be made the leader of the new Order. With leadership came responsibility and he did not want to think about bearing the responsibilities of guarding the Eldunarí—those they would rescue from Galbatorix's grasp if they won—the new Riders, their training, and Alagaësia on a whole. He did not see himself fit for that role but everyone was depending on him. Then there was also the problem of finding a location for the new Order. Vroengard was not a option seeing how deadly the island had become. Alagaësia would not work either, it was too close to civilizations and raising hatchling dragons could be a problem. He did not want one tearing through some poor farmer's livestock for dinner.

He would have to leave Alagaësia to forge the new order of Dragon Riders.

It was a thought that he had contended with for some time and he knew it as well but he never gave much thought to it. Now, however, sitting on the Vroengard Island to his own thoughts, it crossed his mind once more. He would have to leave this land to find a new one for the Order. That did not mean he could never return, however, Angela had foresaw that when he did leave—no matter how many times he did so he would be able to return to Alagaësia. Another sigh left his lips as he sat there thinking. Rebuilding or rather creating another Order would mean that he had to create another city in the likeness of Doru Araeba, thinking of just him building the city made him cringe. That was a tremendous amount of stone work.

_But you'll have Arya by your side. _

Would she leave Alagaësia with him? Would she leave everything she ever knew to come with him? She was a Dragon Rider but he knew better. He would not force her to leave with him if she did not want to. If she wanted to remain behind with her people, he would not fault her but he was unsure of how to approach Arya with such an idea. For some reason, he felt as if she would be angry with him either way. Then there was Murtagh. Would his brother leave with him? But he thought of Roran, Katrina, and his parents and Ella. No, Murtagh probably wouldn't leave with him. He would remain in Alagaësia to look over the land and their family. He had no doubt. He could tell them to follow him but that would be unfair on his part. After a long moment of thinking, Eragon scowled to himself.

_Some leader you are cut out to be, you cannot even think of how to deal with this, _he berated himself. He was going to have to be assertive if he was given the title as the new leader of the Riders.

But as he thought of leadership and the future to come, he thought of his dream and his unnamed daughter that resembled Arya so much that he felt his stomach turn multiple times. He wanted to carry the responsibility of family as well. He wanted a family now the more he thought of it. He wanted a daughter or a son but he was unsure of how that would fit with being the leader of the Riders. Through the texts and ancient documentations of the Riders, he had never read over the leaders have a betrothed or a mate much less a child. Did they simply not have one or was there another reason to it?

It made him curious thought Eragon as he sat there. Time passed as he thought and then the gaps in the clouds closed, the sky darkened, and snow began to fall on the upper flanks of the mountains, painting them white.

Eragon rose and said to Glaedr, _I'm going to gather some firewood. I'll be back in a few minutes. _

The dragon acknowledged him and he stood strapping his swords to his back and waist as he did so. He was careful to remain quiet for he did not want to wake Saphira, she deserved all the sleep she could get before they continued with their journey. Shifting his feet over the ground, he made his way across the field that was their camp and towards the forest which appeared imposing due to the falling darkness. Skirting about the edge of the forest, he simply went to grab the dead branches that were lying about rather than wondering deeper into the forest. When he had a stack of dead branches in his arms, he made his way back to where Saphira laid and placed them down softly.

She did not wake and continued to sleep her ribcage expanding and falling in on itself as she breathed. Maybe he should see if there was any food he could hunt for Saphira so that she could merely wake and eat rather than hunt herself upon waking. He knew that Vroengard was dangerous and that the poison had altered the life on the island but he was sure that there may be something here for Saphira to eat.

Shadows lay heavy under the trees. The air was cool and still, like that of a cave deep underground, and it smelled of fungus, rooting wood, and oozing sap. He could only think that Arya would be disappointed in what Vroengard is as compared to was when she came to visit the island. He was careful to touch the moss and lichen that hung from the tree branches, practically blanketing the forest making it harder to see more than fifty feet before him. The forest Eragon thought was not alive like Du Weldenvarden was. This forest was dead. It gave off the feelings of death.

The trees were not welcoming but rather they stood at odd angels with a peculiar angularity and fierceness that made him believe that they were ready to come to life and wrap their branches about him—the uninvited guest to their forest. As he continued further into the forest, he frowned. So far he had see no sign of game, nor had he found any evidence of animals. There was a stream close by and he had thought that there should have been trails leading to the water. However, there were none but even a waterhole for deer.

That just served to add to the danger of the forest. It was either the fact that there was no game on Vroengard or that there was something threatening in the forest that kept the animals away. Walking over a fallen log, he blinked when he felt his gedwëy ignasia itch. Alert, Eragon immediately drew Brisingr as he heard several sharp sounds beneath him. He glanced down to see a half-dozen white, wormlike grubs—each the size of his thumbs—burst out of the moss and began to hop away from him.

What were those, he reached out to try and grab one but blinked when they began to hop away from him as if afraid of being caught. For mere grubs, they fled rather quickly on their feet. There was something about them that he did not like. They appeared unnatural and nor did he ever see such a sight. He blinked watch as they continued to seek to elude him. Eventually he reached out to Glaedr who may know what the grubs were seeing as he once lived on Vroengard Island.

_Do you know what these are? _He showed the dragon the grubs. _They are unlike anything I've seen before. Not on Alagaësia at least. _

To Eragon's surprise, Glaedr said, _They are unknown to me. I have not seen their like before, nor have I ever heard tell of them. They are new to Vroengard, and new to Alagaësia. Do not let them touch you; they may be more dangerous than they appear. _

Still he wanted to know what they were and the fact that they even eluded his teacher made him all the more curious. Were they a side effect of the poisonous explosion on Vroengard? He stared at them watching as they managed to put several feet between him and them. The nameless grubs hopped higher than usual and with a high pitch squeal of _skree-skree, _they dove back into the moss. As they landed, they split, dividing into a swarm of green centipedes, which quickly disappeared within the tangled strands of moss. Their centipede forms made him frown, were they made to eat into the skin? They were centipedes. He stared after them thinking in the back of his mind that he would have to be mindful of the moss above him now in case they held any of the grubs.

_They should not be, _said Glaedr. He sounded trouble.

He shifted his feet the sound of something crunching beneath him grabbing his attention. Slowly lifting his boot off the moss, he retreated behind the log to examine the moss with greater care. What he had originally taken as the tips of branches poking out of the blanket of vegetation were actually pieces of broke ribs and antlers—the remains, it appeared, of one or more deer.

So those grubs did this. His earlier assumption was correct, they were carnivores, they practically ate everything there was to the deer he found in the moss. Having done enough exploration into the forest, Eragon turned retreating back to the camp where Saphira was. Though he knew that Glaedr was guarding her, he did not like the thought of leaving Saphira defenseless especially now that he had seen such creatures. This island was not what it once was thought Eragon remembering all the details about it in the scrolls and texts that he had read.

When he could see the meadow and the blue of Saphira's scales between the trunks of the evergreens, he turned aside glad to see her resting. With careful footsteps, he stepped about the moss covered banks of the stream and walked from log to stone until he was standing on a flat-topped rock in the midst of the water.

There he squatted, removed his gloves, and washed his hands, face, and neck feeling too cautious to actually undress and enter the stream to bathe. As he sought to clean his hands, he blinked when a loud chattering rang forth over the stream. Glancing towards the direction of the sounds, his eyes wondered to the top of the trees on the opposite bank. Thirty feet up, four shadows sat on a branch. The shadows had large barbed plumes that extended in every direction from the black ovals of their heads. A pair of white eyes, slanted and slit-like, glowed within the middle of each oval. He stared at the four shadow. Birds? But they were unlike any type of bird he'd seen or heard of. His hand tightened on Brisingr.

The leftmost shadow ruffled its plumes and then uttered the same chatter he had mistaken for a squirrel. Two more of the wraiths did likewise, and the forest echoed with the strident clamor of their cries. He remained crouched staring at the shadows. So they were the apparent squirrels he had heard earlier. When they made no move to attack him, Eragon steadily got to his feet stopping when he heard them shriek in unison. There was a slither of sound as he drew Brisingr a few inches from its scabbard. Then they shrugged and shook themselves, and in their place appeared four large owls. They continued their barrage of chattering before they took wing and flew silently off into the threes and soon vanished behind a screen of heavy boughs.

The island was twisted thought Eragon as he fully sheathed Brisingr. The poison had twisted the creatures of the island, had made them abnormal. Making his way back to Saphira, he began to compose wards about their camp area no longer trusting in the fact that they were on Vroengard Island to keep them safe. Galbatorix may not be in close reach but a new evil was about them. One that even Glaedr and Oromis had no knowledge of. When he was finished, Glaedr spoke having reserved himself earlier in order not to disrupt Eragon, _None of these creatures were here when Oromis and I returned after the battle. They are not as they should be. The magic that was cast here had twisted the land and those who live on it. This is an evil place now. _

_The glory of Doru Araeba has been warped after its fall, _another voice had joined in with their minds and Eragon realized with a jolt that it was Oromis who was speaking to him from Glaedr's mind. He hurriedly greeted his master as he lit a campfire to keep warm. _It is good tidings to see that you three have arrived to Vroengard safely Eragon. We were worried about your state after the thunderstorm. _

_Have you seen the island Master Oromis? _Asked Eragon willing to show him his memories.

_I have seen Vroengard through Glaedr's eyes and it fills me with grief to see what was once a beautiful and glorious island rendered to such a mysterious and dark land. It is unsafe now, it is a land for the dead abandoned and forsaken—destroyed by our own doing, _his words made Eragon slightly shook Eragon and he could hear the grief in Oromis's voice as he thought of what once was and what shall never be. But what he said held truth, there was no way for them to rebuild Doru Araeba on Vroengard even after the defeat of Galbatorix. It was too dangerous now and too alien for them. Owls that screeched like squirrels and the nameless grubs were evidence to that testament.

_It was not your fault Master Oromis, Thuviel was the one who destroyed Vroengard, _said Eragon trying to ease his master's grief.

_Even so, we are the cause for such a waste of what was once beautiful lands. Had it not been for the battle of Dory Araeba, this shall not have occurred. It is poor repayment to an island that had severed our cause for centuries, _there was a pause in his voice before he regained strength pushing the sorrow away. _We have mourn the loss of Vroengard for nigh a century. It will not change if we spend another day mourning the island. _

_Of course, _said Eragon respectfully understanding Oromis's grief for the lost of what was once a home to him and Glaedr. He paused and asked cautiously, _how goes things with the march to Urû'baen? _

_Well, it will take another week or two I believe for us to reach Urû'baen. Queen Islanzadí has receives reports from Arya detailing that both of the armies shall meet a few days before we reach the flat plains outside of Urû'baen. Moral has been strengthening, it is our time Eragon to see to it that Galbatorix does not rule another month to come. _

_Then I will make haste to return to the Varden, _said Eragon worried at how close of a proximity they were to Urû'baen. It unsettled him and he could not shake it. He did not like the idea of his family and Arya so close to Galbatorix. Urû'baen was a prison and if they did not step well they could find themselves locked within with no escape.

_Do not worry yourself too much of our situation Eragon. You are in a dangerous place without any aid apart from Saphira and what we can give through Glaedr's Eldunarí. You must be cautious and wary else you may find yourself falling prey to an unknown evil. _

_I shall keep alert at all times, _said Eragon. _How are the Eldunarí, Master Oromis? _

_Still at pain and confused, it shall take time for them to realize that they are safe and no longer slave to Galbatorix's wishes. Time and patience is all it takes, I believe that we should not press them and we must keep them apart from the battle else it would only serve to unsettle them further, _said Oromis an image of the three Eldunarí in his grasps flashing through Eragon's mind.

He nodded and continued to study the valley, a frown suddenly forming when he saw a line of bobbing lights—lanterns he could tell—within the abandoned city. Whispering a spell to sharpen his sight, Eragon was able to make out a line of hooded figures in dark robes walking slowly through the ruins. They seemed solemn and unearthly, and there was a ritualistic quality to the measure beats of their strides and to the patterned sway of their lanterns. He felt a sudden curiosity overwhelm him and he wanted to give chase to those figures but thought better of it. If he died because of his curiosity Saphira would be furious with him among other things.

_Who are they? _He asked Glaedr. They reminded him oddly of Galbatorix's men. They indeed fell in line with the image of dark magicians.

_I do not know. Perhaps they are the descendants of those who hid during the battle. Perhaps they are men of your race who thought to settle here after the fall of the Riders. Or perhaps they are those who worship dragons and Riders as gods. _

_In any case do not go close to them Eragon, your wards have protected you and Saphira from detection and you do not know who they are. We can only assume that they are dangerous for they have been able to survive on this island after the battle, _added Oromis.

Eragon watched as the hooded figures wound their way across the city, which took almost an hour. Once they arrived at the far side, the lanterns winked out one by one, and where the lanterns holders had gone, Eragon could not see, even with the assistance of magic. After a moment, he sighed before bidding goodnight to Oromis and Glaedr.

Then Eragon banked the fire with handfuls of dirt and lifted his blankets, sliding under to rest. He hated sleeping without the small mass that was Arya in his arms. He wanted to embrace something with his arms, and to smell her unique scent of crushed pine-needles in his nose when he slumbered away. But he was alone and all he could do was roll about in his bedroll before he slept.

It felt as if he had just closed his eyes before he heard Glaedr's rumbling voice echo painfully in his mind. _Eragon! Saphira! Rouse yourselves! _

Eyes snapping open, he sat upright and grabbed Brisingr, one of the two blades that laid closest to him. Ready to unsheathed his sword at the slightest hint of danger, his eyes darted about trying to find what it was that Glaedr was trying to alert him to. All was dark, save for the dull red glow of the bed of coals to his right and a ragged patch of starry sky off to the east. Though the light was faint, Eragon was able to make out the general shape of the forest and the meadow. His eyes glided to the large figure before him and he blinked his mind not comprehending that a monstrously large snail was sliding across the grass toward him. He was more struck on the fact that the snail was so large that he could not think of defending himself. Instead he merely watched its progress feeling like he wanted to laugh.

The snail—whose shell was over five and a half feet tall—hesitated, then slimed toward him as fast as a man could run. A snakelike hiss came from the black slit of its mouth, and its waving eyeballs were each the size of his fist. The sight of so funny that Eragon had to bite back a laugh. With a flourish of his arm, he unsheathed Brisingr ready to slice the snail cleanly in half. But before he could move, Saphira's head arrowed past him and she caught the snail about the middle with her jaws. The snail's shell cracked between her fangs and the creature uttered a faint quavering shriek. With a twist of her neck, Saphira tossed the snail into the air, opened her mouth as wide as it would go, and swallowed the creature whole.

He thought of a soldier that she had done that to before and fought the urge to chuckle again. Then lowering his gaze to the ground, he saw for more giant snails father down upon the rise. One of the creatures had retreated within its shell; the others were hurrying away trying to escape now that they saw the might of a dragon.

"There's more over there Saphira," Eragon called to her.

Hearing his words, Saphira leapt forward. Her entire body left the ground for a moment, and then she landed upon all fours and snapped up first one, then two, then three of the snails. She ate all three of the snails and Eragon did not fault her for he was not hungry and she needed to eat. Besides, Eragon did not partake in the pleasure of flesh anymore. He had been living by elven standards for some times now and found it hard to return to what he used to enjoy. He sheathed Brisingr once more.

Returning to her spot that she had curled up in Saphira laid down and nudged his booted feet with her snout. Eragon smiled reaching forward to rub her snout affectionately, _did I bother you from your slumber Saphira? _

She huffed slightly, _No. I said for you to wake me if something was going to try and eat us and your did just that. Or rather Glaedr did. Either way, it was for a valid reason. _At her words, he felt his smile grow before he laughed, wrapping his arms about her snout as his chest bubble with humor. Feeling his amusement Saphira was bemused but she did not pull away at his sign of affection.

_What is it that amuses you so? _She asked.

_The fact that I nearly became dinner for a snail that is the size of an average human, _said Eragon chuckling still, _I can only imagine what Arya or my family will say when I tell them that fact. _He thought of Arya's expression and how displeased she would be to find out that he nearly fell prey to a snail and he laughed. He was a Dragon Rider, a Shadeslayer, a protégée of Galbatorix before he escape him and yet he nearly perish to snails. _It would have nee a sorry death indeed. _

_But memorable, _said Saphira.

_But memorable, _he agreed, feeling his mirth return. He grinned as he tightened his heart about Saphira's snout, _Thank you for saving me Saphira. You were very fearsome. _Despite the situation, he could tell that Saphira was very pleased with his compliment even though her opponents were not that challenging.

With all the excitement done and over with, Eragon retracted his arms from Saphira allowing her to curl up to continue sleeping. This time Eragon joined her. Carrying his blankets and the saddlebags that contained Glaedr's heart of hearts, he crawled under her wing and settle in the warm, dark nook between her neck and her body. Before he went to sleep he thought of the strange creatures that inhabited Vroengard: the nameless grubs, the owls that shrieked like squirrels, and now the snails that tried to eat him, snalglí as Glaedr had told them. Everything was out of place and it made him slightly restless.

As he closed his eyes he thought of the conversation he would have with Arya when she asked about his travels to Vroengard. Still chuckling, he curled up beside Saphira, thinking and dreaming. The following day was gray and gloomy and a chill settled in the air leading Eragon to believe that it would snow again later that day. Tired as she was, Saphira did not stir until the sun was a handbreadth over the mountain. Eragon merely waited for her deep in his thoughts.

After they gathered their thoughts, Eragon rolled up his blankets and strapped the saddle back onto Saphira, and together with Glaedr they set off for the Rock of Kuthian.

The walk to the apple grove seemed short than it had been the previous day. As before he and Saphira stopped at the edge of the tangled clearing that fronted the Rock of Kuthian. Before they dared to move any closer to the spire, Eragon stood fixed to the spot and began to use magic to divine if there were any spells in place about the area that could do them harm. He stood there for half an hour with the help of Glaedr to determine whether or not it was safe. Eventually when he was confident enough that there were no traps around or on the Rock of Kuthian, he and Saphira walked across the clearing to the base of the jagged, lichen-covered spire.

Eragon tilted his head back and looked toward the top of the formation. It seemed incredibly far away. He saw nothing unusual about the stone, nor did Saphira.

_Let us say our name and be done with it, _she said.

Nodding, he kept his hand tightly on Brisingr's pommel as he stood straight and tall unsure of what will occur but accepting of the fact that it would remain a mystery unless he didn't do so, "My name is Eragon Shadeslayer, son of Brom."

_My name is Saphira Bjartskular, daughter of Vervada. _

_And mine is Glaedr Eldunarí, son of Nithring, she of the long tail. _

They waited. Nothing happened but Eragon was not deterred. He knew something was waiting for them. They tried various ways to say their names either aloud, in their thoughts, in the ancient language, or just leaving and allowing Eragon to speak. But to no avail for nothing happened. Nothing greeted them nor jumped out at them. Eventually Eragon sighed as he thought of the one theory they had yet to test.

"It can be," said Eragon slowly as he stared up at the spire, unusually clam despite his failures. "That to be admitted entrance into the Vault of Souls, we must say out true names." The words fell between them like weight stones. For a time none of them spoke.

_But if it's a trap—_said Saphira.

_Then it is a most devilish trap, _said Glaedr. _The question you must decide is this: do you trust Solembum? For to proceed is to risk more than our lives; it is to risk our freedom. If you do trust him, can you be honest enough with yourselves to discover your true names, and quickly too? And are you willing to live with that knowledge, however unpleasant it might be? Because if not, then we should leave this very moment. I know who I am. But do you, Saphira? Do you, Eragon? Can you really tell me what it is that makes you the dragon and Rider you are? _

Glaedr's words took him by surprise leaving him to stare up at the Rock of Kuthian. He had thought of his true name before but had never sought to figure it out. He did not feel the need but now he was being forced to learn of it. And the thought crossed him once more. _Who am I? Am I really Eragon? Am I the person who I thought I am?_

**And that is all! I'm sort of brain dead right now but on a better note, I have an upcoming project to do everyone! I'm rather excited! Apart from that I have nothing else to say so see you all soon! Have fun everyone. **

**Question: Which book out of the Inheritance Series was your favorite? Personally I like Eldest just...well just because. Brisingr is second though. **


	96. Chapter 92

Chapter 92

**And so...Eragon's plight to find out his true name. All in all this is how I feel that the Eragon in this story would go about finding out his name. It's similar to the original slightly (setting wise) but everything else is completely different. Moving on though 2 more chapters and the revelation of the plot twist! Anyways, I enjoyed finding out your preferences for favorite book (It seemed like Brisingr was the most like). Anyways, R&R! **

Finding one's true name was not an easy task thought Eragon dully as he climbed the five broken steps that led up to the broken building before him. Three days since their failures at the Rock of Kuthian they had spent on Vroengard trying to divine their true selves. The fact that they were forced to do so in a haste made it harder for Eragon to self reflect in order to see his true self. He did not like being ordered about by a force he did not know and yet he had to blindly trust in Solembum's words. Saphira had been the first of them to acknowledge the credibility of the werecat's advice, believing that their nature and protection of their own freedom made them the last creatures to ever work in conjunction with Galbatorix. When she had told Eragon that she had made the decision to stay on Vroengard to try to find her true name, he did not argue with her and had agreed as well. The truth of the matter was that he was lost.

There was no direction or clear cut instructions on how to find one's true name. And he regretted not asking Arya how she came across hers or how she found hers to be exact. Yet here he was trying his hardest to divine a name that even Galbatorix could not figure out. Who was he? For a greater part of his life he had denied the name Eragon, his father, and his origins. He had played the part of Gabranth—had hid behind a mask that he created for himself. He never gave much thought to it, had just gone along with fate. He had lived with the spirit of Asura for many years, had been torn asunder from the inside out by Galbatorix and his pet magicians.

He did not even know his own identity much less his true name, the epitome of his entire being.

Eragon paused letting his eyes take in the structure about him. The building had been a nesting house, or so Glaedr had said, and by the standard of Vroengard, it was so small as not to be entirely noteworthy. Still, the walls were over three stories high and the interior was large enough for Saphira to move about with ease. The southeastern corner had collapsed inward, taking part of the ceiling with it, but otherwise the building was sound.

His footsteps echoed as he walked through the vaulted entryway. Making his way across the glassy floor of the main chamber, he tried not to sigh once more. He had a headache and he did not feel up to braving the dangers of Vroengard for the rest of the day. He just wanted to sleep but once again, he felt too guilty about wasting away his time. They had already used three days and they only had two left before they were forced to abandon this task and fly back to the Varden empty handed. The thought of this journey being useless made him frown. He did not want to return to the Varden without any type of hope for them to use against Galbatorix. It made him agitated and it made finding his true name all the more difficult for he became short tempered and easily irritable the more he thought of his past and his character. Oftentimes, he wanted to lash out at something but he knew that violence was not the answer and it would only serve to make him seem like a child unleashing a tantrum. He did not want to admit it but he was rather spoilt now that he contemplated the thought.

As he walked, his eyes drifted to the surface of the floor beneath him. Embedded within the transparent material were swirling blades of color that formed an abstract design of dizzying complexity. Every time he looked at it, he felt as if the lines were about to resolve into a recognizable shape, but they never did. The surface of the floor was covered with a fine web of cracks that radiated outward from the rubble beneath the gaping hole where the walls had given way. Long tendrils of ivy hung from the edges of the broken ceiling like lengths of knotted rope. Water dripped from the ends of the vines to fall into shallow, misshapen puddles and the sound of the droplets striking echoed throughout the building, a constant, irregular beat that Eragon thought would drive himself made if he had to listen to it for more than a few days.

Against the north-facing wall was a half circle of stones Saphira had dragged and pushed into place to protect their camp. When he reached the barrier, Eragon jumped onto the nearest block, which stood over six feet tall. Then he dropped down to the other side, landing heavily. Saphira laid on the other side, curled up on the ground licking her forefoot. She'd paused in her licking, and he felt a questioning thought from her. Eragon merely shook his head and she resumed her grooming, not having anything better to do since she had already hunted for the snalglí earlier that day.

Undoing his cloak, Eragon walked over to the fire he had built close to the wall. He spread the sodden garment on the floor, and then removed his mud-caked boots and set them out to dry as well.

_Does it look as if it will start raining again? _Saphira asked.

_I believe it will, _answered Eragon, his mood rather dull.

Crouching by the fire a bit to warm his slightly chilled body, he then stood and made his way to his bedroll. Sitting down, he removed Vrangr and Brisingr setting both of his swords by his side before he began to do what he had been doing for the last three days: think. At first, when they had made their resolve clear to stay on Vroengard in order to discern their true names, Glaedr had offered to help them often times showing them their faults which was a blow to their pride, Saphira's more so than Eragon. He had known long ago that he had many faults in his character, it was a fact that he had accepted. An while Saphira had acknowledged that she was far from perfect, the hardest thing she had to come to terms with had been her vanity, which she had refused to acknowledge as such for the longest time. Eragon had understood that he was arrogant, easily angered, selfish, and such. He had fallen prey to such emotions more than once. He knew that better than everyone else. He knew it, he admitted it, and he accepted it.

Leaning his head against the wall behind him, he sighed. If only Arya was here. He did not mind hearing about his faults from her rather than hearing it from Glaedr himself. His eyes drifted to Saphira as she continued to clean herself with her crimson tongue. For a brief moment it had bothered him that he could not divine her true name for she had been his spell-bound partner for all of her life. But it came to him the moment after he thought of it that when they were younger, in terms of age and both the concept of being a dragon and Rider, they had been separated from each other. And then he realized that there were things that Saphira hid from him just as he hid from her. Aspects of her characters that only she would know whether or not she would acknowledge it to him or she did not deem it important he did not know.

Leaving Saphira's form, his eyes drifted to his swords that laid by his side. He had unknowingly named them and had given them a name true to their nature. Though a sword was not as complex as a human being, he couldn't help but feel envious and yet proud when he stared at his double blades. They were made by him and for him. One was made by his hand and the other was made by Arya's. Yet, whenever he spoke their names, they reacted to him showing him their true nature: a sword that desired blood and another that burned brightly. _Vrangr and Brisingr, _the Wandering Fire. That alone described him well enough thought Eragon. However it was just two characteristics of himself that he understood if only on the surface. He was not shallow Eragon believed greatly but he did not believe himself to be complex either. When he thought about it, he was like his swords. He understood what he looked like, what he appeared to be on the surface but the smaller characteristics that were the veins in the blades, he did not know nor had he given much thought to.

Frowning slightly, he closed his eyes unsure of what to think of anymore. Vrangr and Brisingr, they were two sides to him—two parts of a whole, two sides of a coin. One could not exist without the other. His existence, was the flame or rather the burning fire that refused to give out, while his life and who he was today, was the wandering soul that sought a home for years on end. He had to accept both if he wanted to call himself Eragon. He had to accept both his flaws and his virtues to fully accept who he was. What was it about him that eluded himself? What was it that he was not seeing? Not understanding? He had plenty of time to think of the last few days and yet nothing made sense to him anymore. Circles upon circles without an exit.

He paused and a humorous thought flashed through his mind, would he be Eragon the Sleep Lord? It was a trait that he had always possessed when he was younger. He was a grumpy riser. It didn't matter what time of day it was but he never liked to be woken. Just the thought of it being anywhere close to his name made him inwardly laugh. At least he could get a good laugh out of his own soul searching. He paused, the feeling in his chest growing. For the last few days, he had felt a longing, a yearning, for Arya. The part of him that was wrapped in the warm embrace of part of her soul made it hard for him to think, especially at night.

Did Arya have any part in his true name?

Their souls were bonded but that didn't affect their nature. It only made them closer to each other, more so than others. But he didn't think of himself changing drastically but Arya was part of him now and forever. He was certain that part of his name involved her whether it was directly or indirectly he did not know. Did hers involve him Eragon thought idly. Thinking of Arya made him think of his family and in result he thought of the Varden. Once more he felt as if someone had threw him in a cold stream and bathed him in the chills of their reality. They were close upon Urû'baen. He knew that now from what Oromis had told him. In another day's time, the two armies would meet and coordinate their march on the black city. And here he was, wasting away his time trying to divulge his true name.

He had scryed the Varden various times through the day and was satisfied to know that everyone was safe. Though it irked him that he could not see Arya but only hear mention of her. Her wards had made him unable to see her through his magic and in place would only be darkness. Though he was glad that she was taking measures to protect herself, he just wished he could see her. After a long moment of letting his heart go through the aching process of longing, he reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a square piece wrapped carefully in silk. Unwrapping it, he took in the fairth of Arya he had created before he had left for Vroengard. Staring at her for a long moment, he felt his lips curl downwards. Would Arya accept him when she found out his true name, the nature of his existence? It would hold all his flaws and yet all of his virtues, it would give her a perfect and clear understanding of him. He blinked as the rain outside the building grew, the sound of it mixing with the crackling fire making his skin itch. He felt restless and useless.

His hand tightened on the marble slate but he was careful not to shatter it. _Think, Eragon. Think about yourself and try to see a connection. _He thought of when he was younger, growing up in Urû'baen. He had been treated like a prince by Galbatorix, it was a repayment to his mother for being the Black Hand that struck fear and inspiration through others. He was spoiled and everything was brought up to him. He was taught the world, the ancient language, the history of Alagaësia, and was forced to bear prejudices that he did not even understand at the time. Despite all that, he never left his mother's side and never sought to run away from his fate. That was one part of his life, that was Eragon. Then there was Gabranth, the monster that hid behind a horned helm. The protégée of Galbatorix, his Rider and his servant. He hated for so long. Had resented the world and everything in it. What did he care about the Varden and the Empire? What did he care about the war when he only wanted to protect his mother? He had served Galbatorix when he was younger, tortured into submission by Faust and bound by the spirit of Asura. Then when Gil'ead came and he met Arya, he had found an escape and with the push of his mother, he'd taken it. He had saw all there was to Alagaësia and more, had understood his own ignorance and slowly stopped hating and resenting but rather he began to care more, to understand sympathy, to feel empathy, and most of all to love.

There was Eragon, son of none. Then there was Gabranth, Galbatorix's Rider. And lastly, there was Eragon Shadeslayer, son of Brom.

They were three separate identities. But as he tried to find a connection between them, he only ended up frustrating himself once more. He couldn't see a connection, he couldn't think of one. After a long moment, he decided to put that to the side and tried to think of the people in his life that had affect him. He thought of his mother, whom he had devoted his entire life to. Sweet, kind, and loving was his mother, Selena, yet she was dangerous for she was the Black Hand that had once served Morzan. He was willing to devote his life to protecting her and her happiness and that had not change. Then he thought of Saphira, his dragon who would forever remain a constant in his life. He thought of his affection for Saphira, how he had depended on her since she'd hatched for him, how she had given him wings to fly across Alagaësia, and lastly how he had failed to protect her when she was but a hatchling. The thought of it nearly made him shatter the slate in his hand but he reigned in his anger. If he destroyed the fairth of Arya, he would feel beyond upset. Then he thought of the growing affections for his servants who had been so caring and protective of him. He thought of his father and his estranged relationship with him that he was trying to work on and then he thought of Murtagh. He had resented his father and half-brother but now after fighting alongside them and interacting with them, he had found his feelings for them changing. But as he thought of them, the names that came to him did not send a profound sense of relief through him nor understanding. There was another crucial key to himself that he was missing. Was he overlooking it on purpose or did he merely not know?

Unable to accept defeat, he continued to think. Throughout he was easily frustrated but the fairth in his hands kept him from lashing out or letting his anger take control whenever he met failure.

The rain grew heavier. Eragon disliked the sound of it drumming against the puddles, for the featureless noise made it difficult to hear if anyone was trying to sneak up on them. Since their first night on Vroengard, he had seen no sign of the strange, hooded figures whom he had watched wending their way through the city, nor had he felt any hint of their minds. Nevertheless, Eragon did not let his guard down. If those people were able to survive on Vroengard, they were not easy opponents if attacked.

Still thought Eragon somewhat at peace, he liked the rain more so than others. There was a sense of peace that it brought and it also showed to him how imperfect the world was. There wasn't always a bright sun in a clear sky. No, there were days when the gray gloom overtook and the rain poured down on them. However, it was a blessing. A relief to the exhausted and wary minds of others. It gave the land relief, it rehydrate the plants to give life to them. That was the rain, both a blessing and a curse.

The gray light of the day slowly faded to dusk, and a deep, starless night settled across the valley. Heaping more wood onto the fire; he watched as it illuminated the nesting house from within, the cluster of yellow flames like a tiny candle within the huge, echoing space. Close to the fire, the glassy floor reflected the flow of the burning branches. It gleamed like a sheet of polished ice, and the blades of color within often distracted Eragon from his brooding.

Reaching into his saddlebag, he retrieved a green apple that Desdemona had packed for him and took a bite of the apple, idly wondering if an apple had a true name. He took another bite, the crunching of the apple reaching his ears in the solitude of their silence, his and Saphira's. As he took another bite, he paused, if it was difficult for him to find his own true name, it would be beyond attempt to try and divulge the true name of Alagaësia. The spirits couldn't do it despite all their efforts and he couldn't either. He took another bite, he had no idea how to return to the in-between. He had yet to come across anymore spirits that could draw him in. The only hope he had to meeting Alagaësia was the key that Areth spoke of but he had no direction when it came to searching for the key. And if there was a key, he had no doubt that there was a gate. A gate to her sanctuary.

_No, he couldn't afford to be sidetracked now. _He had to focus on what was before him rather than something he had no hope of achieving. Going back to his thoughts about his true name, Eragon continued to think whilst he ate his apple finding no need to deny himself food. Several hours passed with little spoken between Eragon and Saphira. But as they thought, they remained conscious of the general drift of each other's mind. It was just a measurement that they had in place to keep them connected even though they were trying to view themselves separately from each other.

Then, as Eragon was about to enter his waking dreams in order to rest and calm his skittish nerves, he jolted awake when Saphira uttered a yowl, slamming her right paw against the ground, shaking the floor. Believing that she was hurt or that they were under attack, he had his swords out in a flash and was crouched ready to spring into action in case any sign of danger manifested itself. An instant later, he realized that Saphira's mood was not one of concern or anger but of triumph.

_I have done it! _Exclaimed Saphira. She arched her neck and loosed a jet of blue and yellow flame into the upper reaches of the building. Was she going to burn the building down thought Eragon alarmed as he sheathed his blades. But her next word was like a blow to the gut. _I know my true name! _She spoke a single line in the ancient language, and the inside of Eragon's mind seemed to ring with a sound like a bell, or like a water drop upon the surface of a calm lake. For a moment, the tips of Saphira's scales gleamed with an inner light, and she looked as if she were made of stars. He stared at her, letting her name ring forth and deep within him.

The name was grand and majestic, but also tinged with sadness for it names her as the last female of her kind. There was a part in her name that pointed to her past, a past chained by Galbatorix that no longer existed but it was there, a part of her character, a testament to how she was born and how she came to be. In the words, Eragon could hear the love and devotion she felt for him, as well as all the other traits that made up her personality. Most he recognized; a few he did not and it surprised him but at the same time he felt as if he should not feel surprised for this was Saphira. Her flaws were prominent as her virtues, but overall, the impression was one of fire and beauty and grandeur.

She shivered from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail, and she shuffled her wings.

_I know who I am, _she said a sense of pride suffusing in her. Eragon too felt proud of her, despite her harsh past, she had grown past it and was able to find her identity within the folds of her history. She had done something so difficult even when they were pressed for time. At times, he felt as if he did not deserve someone such as Saphira. The fact that she even picked him as a Rider made him wonder what she saw in him when he was younger. But he was glad nonetheless that someone like Saphira had chosen him.

Closing that part of his mind off to her, he made his way over to her. Sensing his approach, she lowered her head until it was at his level. He stroked the line of her jaw, and then pressed his forehead against her hard snout and held her as tightly as he could, her scales sharp against his fingers. There was a time when she was so vulnerable and unable to speak or hunt for herself—a time when she did not have a name. But now, here she was strong and proud, and certain of herself and who she was. And she was his dragon, his bonded life partner. Now it was he who depended on her, he who did not know himself.

_I am glad, more so than ever, _said Eragon softly as he felt her breath against him warming him, _that you chose me Saphira. So very glad. _

_Little one. _

That was right thought Eragon as he laid on his bedroll, compared to Saphira he was little and will always remain so. In her eyes, he was a constant when he himself thought he wasn't a constant. He would always be her little one but what was he to himself? Even that he did not know. As the hours went pass, he thought of Saphira's name and how it matched her. After what seemed like an eternity willowing in the bitterness of not being able to look within himself, he stood. He wasn't going to be able to think in such a rundown ruin. Standing quietly, he stretched making sure not to wake Saphira. The least he could do for her was let her sleep in peace rather than disturb her with his agitation. _I am going for a walk, _he said to Glaedr. He did not want Saphira to wake and tear down the island trying to search for him.

He expected the dragon to object, but instead Glaedr said, _Leave your weapons and armor here. _

_Why? _He did not like the idea of being defenseless on Vroengard.

_Whatever you find, you need to face it by yourself. You cannot learn what you are made of if you rely on anyone or anything else to help you. _Letting his words flow over his mind, Eragon nodded and removed his armor. Donning his boots, he left his cloak not feeling the need to wear it despite the night chill. Before he left, he dragged the saddlebags closer to Saphira before climbing out of the nesting house.

Outside the nesting house, Eragon was pleased to see patches of stars and enough moonlight shining through the gaps in the clouds for him to make out his surroundings. Taking one last look at the ruins of the city, he turned and made his way towards the forest and the crags of rocks beyond. Careful not to disturb whatever creature that laid in the darkness of the trees, he ducked about the moss and lichen and was careful where he placed his feet. It was with tremendous care and footwork that he made it through the stretch of forest. He was alert and cautious to his surroundings but it seemed as if the creatures paid him no mind as he walked through the midst, if there were any about to begin with.

He felt naked without his swords and armor but it was something that he had to contend with. The chill of the night air bit into his skin, however, he did not let it bother him. Another mind over matter method he believed in. It was dangerous to stray too far from Saphira and Glaedr but he was confident that he could take care of himself. Confident that he would not fall prey to the other inhabitants of Vroengard. The moment the thought crossed his mind, he winced once more listening to his own confidence or as Glaedr called it arrogance sound through his mind. After what seemed like hours, he broke free of the forest to face a towering cliff face. Over the side of it, he could hear the faint sounds of waves.

It was a steep climb thought Eragon as he stared up the jagged cliff face but he could make out many handholds and breaks in the rock surface that would allow him to climb upwards towards the top. The height of the cliff face was imposing but he knew that he could climb it. This time, he was going to scale his way towards the sky without the use of Saphira's wings. He would do it himself. Taking in a deep breath, he reached out and grabbed an indent in the surface and braving his feet against the rock began to climb. If he guess correctly he would say that the climb was at least two hundred feet if not more. But he was willing to undertake the journey. He had never done something by himself before. It had always been with the help of others, he hated to admit it but it was true. However, before he climbed he had removed his wards, all except for the ones that were a necessity for his survival on Vroengard. He wasn't going to rely on help to climb this rock surface, whether it was from someone else or from his own magic.

It was his own pride once more speaking but he needed this moment to do it without help. He hated to admit it but everything he'd done up to this day, he'd always relied on help.

He had relied on his mother's strength when he was younger. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the fine cut on his hand after grabbing on a sharp ledge of the rock face. Ignoring the pain, he continued upwards not looking down. It was something he had accepted when he was younger. He was weak and defenseless against the world, young and inexperienced. Digging his boots into the crack of the surface, he pulled himself up. Then when Saphira had hatched for him, he had to depend on her to keep himself sane. He had to rely on her strength. His arms burned as he reached upwards once more to find something to grip his hands with. Weak and dependent, that was how he was then. And when he became Gabranth, he had to rely on Galbatorix's goodwill and Asura's strength to become who he was then. Letting out a yell, he huffed as he hurriedly gripped a protruding ledge from the surface nearly falling to his death at a hundred feet up in the air. Taking in a deep breath, he continued his palms thoroughly scratched with cuts from the rough surface of the rock. Beads of sweat falling into his eyes, and his muscles feeling ready to give out, Eragon continued upwards. He was halfway there. Continuing the climb, he thought about the time he'd left the Empire, even then it required a push and pull from his mother to make the decision and since then he'd let others decided his fate. He had given his fealty to Nasuada as her vassal. He was taught by Oromis and Glaedr, and he became a puppet to Asura. His life revolved around others and not himself. Gritting his teeth, he continued upwards, his eyes measuring about sixty to seventy feet left before he reached the jagged top. Most importantly, he relied on Arya more than ever, it was comparable to how he relied on Saphira.

She had been there, a growing constant in his life willing and ready to rescue him. She'd given him everything and more. She'd given him a life, purpose, and most importantly she'd given him a part of her that she could never take back. Reaching up with his right hand, he gripped the top of the rock wall and pulled himself up despite the burning ache in his muscles. Heaving, he climbed to the top of the jagged cliff face to stare out at the island below taking in the slope that moved downwards, the vegetation disappearing as the shoreline appeared and continued into the depths of the water below. There, laying directly before his eyes was the ocean and the never ending horizon—the only evidence to tell him that the world was round and beyond the ocean was a world that laid waiting to be discovered.

Taking in a deep breath, he collapsed on top of the jagged rocks glancing down to find the world beneath his feet lingering in the ever encompassing darkness. When he was younger, locked away in the castle in Urû'baen, locked away in the walls of the city, and then locked away in the dark dungeons, he had wanted to see the world. He had wanted wings to stare down at the earth and take in the sights before him. Saphira had given him those wings of freedom but now, he had found it himself as he had climbed the rock face. There was a tingle in his hands and he knew that Arya's magic had healed the cuts. He smiled wryly, even at this distance a part of him still relied on her protection.

A breath escape him as he sat there, the night chill washing over him cooling his aching body from the climb that he had done by himself. Wrapping his wards about him once more, he continued to stare out at the land below and the ocean beyond. When he was younger, he had read stories about the Alagaësia, about the lands outside his prison and he'd wanted to see it. And he did. From the stone tunnels of Tronjheim to the luscious pines of Du Weldenvarden, he'd seen it all and now he'd seen Vroengard. He remembered the stories well enough and the words that were used to describe the world.

_There were flaming waters, frosty lands, and stone forests. There exist a world with many sights to behold and yet to be beholden. _

It wasn't that he wanted to see the world merely to see it. It was the fact that the person who was able to see everything in its entirety would become the freest person in the world like the ocean that laid before him. And here he was, standing at the top of the world looking down more free than ever.

"This is the outside world," muttered Eragon as he stared ahead of him. "The world that I dreamt of."

Was he disappointed? Perhaps but he was elated to know that he was part of this world. He was born to it and was able to revel in its wonders and mysteries. Yet despite everything he'd seen, he'd never found a sense of belonging—a sense of origin. Wandering, yes that was what his life had been. Wandering from one place to another, swept along by the tides of fate unable to fight but only to stumble and not fall while his life progressed.

He stared at the ocean, an entity that had always enthralled him. It was vast, its surface smooth betraying nothing that laid beneath. When one looked at it, all they could see was their reflection. All they could see was what laid before them but not under, not deeper. And he continued to stare at the ocean as dawn rose, his mind a turmoil of thoughts and emotions. It forever remained the same thought Eragon. Every once and a while, there was a ripple in the surface or a turn of tide but then it would settle and a sense of calm would return.

_Who am I? Who was he? Am I me? _

Eragon, son of none. Gabranth, Galbatorix's Rider. Or lastly, there was Eragon Shadeslayer, son of Brom.

Three different people, three different histories, and not one connection in between. His gaze remained on the ocean, watching the tide as it slammed into the shores shifting and transforming before returning to what it once was. How odd thought Eragon bemused. No matter the change, the ocean always remained as it is. At night the moon would shine on it, pulling its tides and in the morning the sun would warm its surface. Different and yet the same, forever one. Just like him.

And then a sense of understanding welled through him. Different and yet the same, just like the ocean. He was someone who could not exist without the other. He was Eragon and yet he was Gabranth. They were all the same person. Not different identities, not isolated from one another. He could not reject his past as much as he wanted to. He could not reject the younger Eragon or Gabranth. They were part of him, they belonged to him despite their weaknesses and their flaws. They were different and yet they were the same for they were him. He'd rejected his past, he'd lived behind a mask, and now he was fighting for a future. He was reluctant of trusting others and letting them past his guard, he was a cruel warrior, he was a hope to people. He was everything. Trying to wrap his mind about it made his head hurt. But it was true. Acceptance. He had to accept it.

He had to accept the lonely child that clung to his mother's skirts.

He had to accept the weak boy that was powerless against the tortures of Faust.

He had to accept the horned mask that hid the Rider beneath as he served Galbatorix.

He had to accept the man he'd become, fighting for the freedom of a world he thought that had forsaken him.

Then, as the first rays of dawn brightened the eastern sky over the rippling waves of the ocean, he thought of a name—a name such as he had not thought of before—and as he did, a sense of certainty came over him. It was a mere whisper, given life by his breath as he spoke not daring to believe. But the moment the words reached the deepest recess of his mind, his body vibrated with the recognition of the name. He felt his world turn and suddenly the ocean seemed much clearer to him as a bell of recognition tore through him, a soft echo of his person.

Then he laughed. For so long, he had denied his being, denied his person believing it was a simple matter as just abandoning who he was and taking up another identity. He gave it no thought nor pause. But now, he'd found it, his true self. Who he was and how his past had forged that person, that name. Letting it echo in his mind, he thought of the ancient words and how it fit him. It was a strong name Eragon thought, a testament of the tortures that he'd went through. There was a darkness to it though, a part that showed his inner demons that was part of him, of who he was and how his character was. Yet there was also a light to it, a virtue to his character that he did not even know existed. He'd never thought of himself as kind but it was there as well as a fierce determination, a fierce fire that refused to give out. In his name, he could hear his affections for Saphira showing their bond as dragon and Rider. Alongside that was his devotion and loyalty to his loved ones. He was not perfect thought Eragon listening to his flaws not surprised to find that his short temperament was part of it. But nor was he a bad person. His true name showed him how his identity flowed, how there were twists and turns but yet everything was connected, inseparable. It was like the ocean, cloaked in darkness by night and yet loved by the moon, but shining in the day and warmed by the sun. There would be ripples and changes in the surface and though it would remain wholly similar by appearances, underneath was something greater.

That was him: Eragon.

With the knowledge of his true name came his acceptance. He'd found the identity he'd longed for after searching for so many years. His existence was not a flaw thought Eragon finally at peace with himself. He was who he was and there was no need to become another person to fit the mold of the world.

Sitting there, he let the wind caress his skin as the sun continued to rise into the sky taking in the shining surface of the ocean. It was as if the waters was celebrating his accomplishment as it sparkled at him from a distance looking like a vast ocean of diamonds. He took in a deep breath thinking of his name. He was not who he thought he was and yet he was more. Not ready to go back yet to share his newfound peace and knowledge with Saphira and Glaedr, he remained sitting on the jagged cliff staring out at the land below and the ocean beyond.

_In this world, there is a sun and a moon; land and ocean; darkness and light. Two entities that complement each other. Just like Vrangr and Brisingr. Gabranth and Eragon. _

_I know who I am now. _

The thought was empowering, encompassing, and overwhelming. There was no more doubt, there was only certainty. Taking in another deep breath, he smiled as he leaned back to let the sun bathe him in its warmth as the wind passed over his skin. _I see myself now._

**And that is the true nature of the Eragon of this-both complex and forever flowing. Honestly, I thought that the Eragon in the original was very...I don't have a word for it but sometimes I just didn't like how his character panned out (at most he was very cringe worthy) and then when I read about his true name I thought to myself: this is it? (It somewhat irked me how CP described how he was very weak and flawed without pointing to much of the actual characteristics of his true name. Personally, I didn't think he gave it much depth. It should have been all encompassing I believe. And I hope I showed the growth of character of Eragon in this story and how he came so far since the first chapter. In the original, it showed Eragon view the ruins of Vroengard and thinking of Carvahall and such (more like staring at the sky and land) while this Eragon is more in tune with the ocean and such. So I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. See you all soon! **

**P.S.-I have a project that I was given through my job (finally using my hours spent in physics class and mathematics for something). **

**Question: What was the best&worst moment of Inheritance to you all? Personally, the best moment in my opinion was when Arya snapped her right hand. I don't know why but that scene just moved me greatly. The worst would be Eragon's whimsical confession to her during the Agaeti Blodhren. I cringed frequently and had to close the book several times to actually read through that scene...it was horrible. Anyways, I'm just curious. **


	97. Chapter 93

Chapter 93

**Standard Disclaimer: This chapter I've kept fairly close to the original chapters in Inheritance ('The Vault of Souls', 'Lacuna, Part the First', and 'Lacuna, Part the Second') The Inheritance Cycle and everything to do with it belongs to CP. I'm just trying to use my imagination hahaha. Anyways, the reasoning for this chapter being near exact (in my opinion) to the original was because I liked the Vault of Souls and the Rock of Kuthian in the original. And I didn't want to change it. However, this isn't the sole focus of my story. It's not the deciding factor in the final battle like it was in the original. (That's the next chapter.) But anyways, just a bunch of information from the original that has to be in here so R&R! **

Somewhere overhead, he heard a raven call as he and Saphira stood before the Rock of Kuthian, prepared to face whatever it was that was waiting for them. He had both his blades drawn unsure of what to expect. If it was a trap, he'd least be readied to defend himself. However, he doubted that his swords could hold their ground against magic despite being Rider's blades. If the enchantment on the name of the Rock of Kuthian was anything to go by, he was positive that whatever laid waiting for them was much stronger than they were, very much so. He doubted that even Glaedr, who had disconnected from Oromis and the elves in order to fully address the situation, could hold his own against such a mysterious force. His eyes darted to the saddlebags that were tied to Saphira and to the center bag that held the small chest with Glaedr's Eldunarí within. They were risking everything for this thought Eragon gravely.

No one moved as they stared upon the tall, dark spire. It was still early morning, and the sun shone brightly through the large tears in the canopy of clouds. When he had returned to Saphira's and Glaedr's side, he had been apprehensive about telling them his true name. But he did tell them waiting and hoping that they would not react badly to his true character. Saphira's reaction had been gratifying. She had remained silent for but a few seconds before she began humming and she had reached forward to nuzzle him with her hard snout, a thick tear falling from her eye as she expressed her gratitude to be bonded with him. And Glaedr had not reacted terribly but had instead welcomed Eragon—the true one back to their midst.

With the discovery and acceptance of his true name, Eragon had been unlike himself. It was not a drastic change but the pessimism that had been plaguing him for days had gone and he was left with a soothing touch to his mind, a calm acceptance, and a hard determination. He was determined, no matter what happened next, to return to the Varden and live out his true name. He would not disappoint himself anymore. His eyes darted to Saphira as she crouched beside him, her large sapphire eyes focused on the Rock of Kuthian.

Ever since they had shared their true names, the bond between them seemed to have grown stronger, perhaps because they had both heard how much they cared for each other. It was something they had always known, but nevertheless, to have it stated in such irrefutable terms had increased the sense of closeness they shared. Eragon was about to open his mind and reach out to the Rock of Kuthian to say his name with his mind but was stopped when Glaedr spoke.

_No, Eragon. I shall go first. It was agreed between myself and Oromis that if this is a trap, I might be able to arrest it before it catches either of you, _said Glaedr his rumbling voice full of determination. Though Eragon was reluctant to let the ancient dragon possibly sacrifice himself for their sake, he nodded. Both he and Saphira started to pull their minds away from Glaedr to allow the dragon to utter his true name without being overhead. But Glaedr surprised them when he said, _No, you have told me your names. It is only right you should know mine. _

Eragon and Saphira shared a look, and then they both said, _Thank you, Ebrithil. _

Then Glaedr spoke his name, and it boomed forth in Eragon's mind like a fanfare of trumpets, regal and yet discordant. His name was longer than eight Eragon's or Saphira's; it went on for several sentences—a record of a life that had stretched over centuries and which had contained joys and sorrows and accomplishments too numerous to count. His wisdom was evident in his name, but also contradictions: complexities that made it difficult to fully grasp his identity.

There was a sense of awe that he felt upon hearing Glaedr's name that was mirrored in Saphira. The sound of it made them both realize how young they still were and how far they had to go before they could hope to match Glaedr's knowledge and experience. Curiously, Eragon thought about Arya's true name. It would not doubt have greater weight that his thought Eragon as he fixed his stare on the Rock of Kuthian. They watched intently but there was no change to the surface of the spire. Saphira went next. Arching her neck and pawing at the ground, she proudly stated her true name. Even in the daylight, her scales again shimmered and sparkled at the proclamation. His hand tightened on Vrangr and Brisingr as he heard Saphira's true name in his mind. He felt uneasy letting her proclaim her name to their surroundings. He did not want Saphira to give up her freedom without knowing what awaited them but to his relief and disappointed nothing happened. _If this did not work, _thought Eragon anxiously, _we are finished. _

Taking in a deep breath, Eragon stepped forward knowing that this might be his final act as a free man. But it did not daunt him, Saphira and Glaedr had risked their freedom for the sake of the Rock of Kuthian and the Vault of Souls, he needed to do so as well. He spoke his name with his mind so as to reduce the chance that anyone might overhead it. Like before a tremor of recognition shook his body as every cell that composed his physical being hummed with the knowledge of his true nature. And as the last word was formed in his thoughts, a thin, dark line appeared at the base of the spire. He blinked, holding his breath as he watched the shift in the rock. The line ran upward fifty feet and then split into two and arched down on either side, tracing the outline of two broad doors. Upon the doors appeared row after row of glyphs lined in gold: wards against both physical and magical detection.

Once the outline was complete, the doors swung outward upon hidden things, scraping aside the dirt and plants that had accumulated before the spire since the doors had last opened, whenever that had been. Through the doorway was a huge vaulted tunnel that descended at a steep angle into the bowels of the earth. He could only stare at the open door in utter surprise. He had doubted that they would find something and had hoped furiously as the days went by that their journey was not a waste. And here it was, a tunnel leading them to something that could very well be their demise or their hopes. After a few seconds, he sheathed his swords. There was no backing down now. He was not going to turn away. He'd said his true name and it was heard and accepted by whatever it was that waited for them.

_It exists, _said Eragon as he took a step forward his mind searching the tunnel for any sort of life or trap that could be waiting for them.

_When it should not, _said Glaedr his astonishment and shock still not abating. _We and the Riders hid many secrets on Vroengard, but the island is too small for a tunnel as large as this to have been built without others knowing. And yet I have never heard of it before. _

Eragon stood at the threshold of the doorway staring inside the tunnel. From what he could see, it went further down into the earth. _Perhaps the enchantment that they wrapped about Alagaësia also erased the existence of this tunnel as well. _If the spell could erase the name, location, and image of the Rock of Kuthian he was sure it also erased the knowledge of anything that had to do with the spire. He glanced at Saphira, they had not felt anything from the tunnel but that did not mean that nothing was waiting for them. _Are you prepared, Saphira? _

He could tell that she was as nervous as he was but like him, she refused to turn away. She bobbed her head in a nod. _Let us dig out the rat hiding in this nest, _she said determinedly. That was all he needed to hear from her. Taking in a deep breath, he walked forward leading the way into the tunnel with Saphira close behind him refusing to let him move farther away from her than necessary. As the last inch of Saphira's tail slid over the threshold, the doors swung shut behind them and close with a loud crack of stone meeting stone, plunging them into darkness. He stared at what used to be the entrance as a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. He never liked being trapped in darkness for too long nor did he like the fact that presently, they had no means to escape if this was a trap. It was a slip up on his part for not ensuring their means of retreat but now that only meant that they could only walk forward. Shaking his anxiety from his mind, he took in a deep breath. He wasn't going to back down now. They were already locked inside, it would do them little good if they panicked now. Squaring his shoulders, he continued forward Saphira's presence a comfort to his mind. As they moved forward in the tunnel, he had used his magic to create a white werelight to illuminate the tunnel from the ceiling to create a depth of shadows so that he and Saphira could judge the depth of the tunnel.

It was deep thought Eragon and he had a fleeting worry about the possibility of it being too deep and therefore too close to the heat within the earth. Down the traveled, deeper and deeper into the earth moving through the tunnel that did not branch but continued in a straight path downwards, the walls remaining bare and uniform. When he thought there was no end to the tunnel, a breath of warm air caressed his face evidence that they were rather deep underground. In the distance, he noticed a faint orange glow in the distance and cautious of alerting whatever it was before them, he extinguished his werelight. A part of him wanted to draw his swords but he felt that it would only serve to threaten whatever laid in waiting.

The air continued to warm as they descended, and the glow before them waxed in brightness. Soon they were able to see an end to the tunnel: a huge black arch that was covered entirely with sculpted glyphs, which made the arch look as if it were wrapped in thorns. The smell of brimstone tainted the air, and Eragon felt his eyes begin to water. The stopped before the archway; through it, all they could see was a flat gray floor. He stared at the archway. The answers were beyond the archway, tempting them, daring them to take the chance and move deeper. It was a challenge thought Eragon as he steeled himself. With grave determination, he started forward and both he and Saphira walked through the archway together.

When they reached the end of the tunnel, Eragon notice several things at once. The first being that they were standing at one side of a circular chamber over two hundred feet across with a large pit in the center, from which radiated a dull orange glow. Second, that the air was stiflingly hot. Third, that around the outer part of the room were two concentric rings of bench-like tiers—the back one higher than the front—upon which rested numerous dark objects. Fourth, that the wall behind this tier sparkled in numerous places, as if decorated with colored crystals. Before he could continued his examination open stepping into such a chamber, movement in the corner of his eyes alerted him to the presence of another. He blinked as his eyes trained on the open area next to the glowing pit in which stood a man with the head of a dragon.

His body was not made from flesh Eragon noticed but rather of metal. It gleamed like polished steel for he wore not clothes other than a segmented loincloth fashioned out of the same lustrous material as his body, and his chest and limbs rippled with muscles like those of a Kull. In his left hand, he held a metal shield, and in his right, an iridescent sword that Eragon recognized as the blade of a Rider. Behind the man, set within the far side of the room, Eragon vaguely saw a throne with the outline of the creature's body worn into its back and seat. Fighting the urge to draw his swords, he never averted his eyes as the creature moved forward. His skin and joints flowed as smoothly as flesh, but every step sounded as if a great weight was being dropped onto the floor. He stopped thirty feet from Eragon and Saphira and stared at them with eyes that flickered like a pair of crimson flames. Then, lifting his scaled head, he uttered a peculiar metallic roar that echoed until it seemed as if a dozen creatures were bellowing at them.

Before he could react to the bellowing roar, a strange, vast mind touched his. The consciousness was unlike any he had encountered before, and it seemed to contain a host of shouting voices, a great disjointed chorus that reminded him of the wind inside a storm. As fast as the blink of an eye, the mind stabbed through his defenses and seized control of his thoughts. Despite the fact that Eragon was trained under and with those who he had considered experts at guarding their minds from Galbatorix to Arya, he was unable to fend off the attack. Whoever it was that had encompassed his thoughts, they were stronger than what he had ever thought.

A blur of light and a roar of incoherent noise surrounded him as the yammering chorus forced itself into every nook and cranny of his being. Then it felt as if the invader tore his mind into a half-dozen pieces—each of which remained aware of the others, but none of which was free to do as it wished—and his vision fragmented into six pieces. He felt his thoughts thoroughly shifted through, six different memories flashing simultaneously through his mind. They were tearing him apart and recreating him thought Eragon not bothering to struggle since he was too caught in their grips. Everything that was him, every memory that belonged to him was put under examination. For what seemed like hours, the alien mind examined every one of his memories. He was mortified when memories of his time spent with Arya flashed past and soon felt enraged that they had dared to encroach upon such a private and personal matter of his life.

At last, long after he would have given up hope of release if he still had command of his thoughts, the whirling chorus carefully rejoined the pieces of his mind and then withdrew. Staggering slightly when he was freed, he reigned in his limbs before he could collapse to his knees while beside him Saphira lurched and snapped at the air, no doubt feeling enraged at being violated so. His eyes darted about trying to find the source of the minds, a body to match the strength of their invader with. But there was none.

Again the consciousness pressed against Eragon's mind but this time it did not attack, instead it spoke to him, _Our apologies, Saphira. Our apologies, Eragon, but we had to be certain of your intentions. Welcome to the Vault of Souls. Long have we waited for you. And welcome to you as well, cousin. We are glad that you are still alive. Take now your memories, and know that your task is at long last complete! _

A bolt of energy flashed between Glaedr and the consciousness and an instant later, Glaedr uttered a mental bellow that made Eragon's temples throb with pain. A surge of jumbled emotions rushed forth from the golden dragon so great that Eragon had to withdraw himself as he felt sorrow, triumph, and disbelief pour from the old dragon's mind. Instead, he turned his attention to the metal creature wondering if it was from it that the consciousness was. But it had not moved since it had uttered that bellowing roar earlier. _What was going on? _

It was Saphira who answered is silent question for she said in a quiet, awed voice, _Eragon, look at the wall. Look…_

He did, his eyes moving to the wall to see what it was that had caught Saphira's undivided attentions. Dozens upon dozens of alcoves dotted the wall, and within each alcove rested a glittering orb. Some were large, some were small, but they all pulsed with a soft inner glow. He felt his throat constrict as comprehension dawned on him, the feeling similar to how Finny had once tackled him with his brute strength. He wasn't staring at crystals but rather he was staring at dozens of Eldunarí before him. Blinking, he lowered his eyes to the dark objects on the tier below; they were smooth and ovoid and appeared to have been sculpted from stone of differing colors. As with the Eldunarí, some were large and some were small, but regardless of their size, their shape was one he would have recognized anywhere. _It cannot be…_Galbatorix had destroyed the rest of the eggs back at the battle of Doru Araeba and had only managed to retrieve three successfully. But if that was true then what was he staring at? An illusion? Beside him, he could feel Saphira's shock and her disbelief mixed with her hope—her hope that her race was not dying.

Then the mind spoke again: _You are not mistaken, hatchlings, nor do your eyes deceive you. We are the secret hope of our race. Here lie our heart of hearts—the last free Eldunarí in the land—and here lie the eggs that we have guarded for over a century. _

He could not move and he doubted that he was even breathing as he let the consciousness speak within his mind, confirming what he saw but what he could not believe. For a century, Galbatorix had treasured the three eggs: Thorn, Eridor, and Saphira believing they were the last of their race and yet here on this desolate and forsaken island, beneath the earth hidden by layers of magic the rest of Saphira's race was protected. And he was glad, immensely glad that Saphira was no longer alone that she did not have to contend with the fact that she was the last female of her race. The burden of trying to bring the dragons back to their former glory was no longer hers to bear. But as the relief came to him he paused. He could not let his emotions get the better of him. They still had to be sure that this was indeed not a trap.

_Who are you? _Eragon asked the mind. _We need to know if we are to trust in your words. _

_They speak the truth Eragon, _Glaedr said in the ancient language but Eragon was not easily complacent by his words. He did not want to hear it from his Master who but a few moments earlier did not have memory of where it was they were heading. He wanted to hear it from the consciousness.

_Who are you? _Eragon repeated refusing to be swayed until he was given an answer. He had to protect Saphira and Glaedr if this was indeed a trap.

There was a feeling of approval from the consciousness before it spoke, _We are well met Eragon Shadeslayer. My name is Umaroth. My Rider was the elf Vrael, leader of our Order before our doom came upon us. I speak for the others but I do not command them, for while many of us were bonded with Riders, more were not, and our wild brethren acknowledge no authority but their own. _This he said with a hint of exasperation. _It would be too confusing for all of us to speak at once, so my voice will stand for the rest. _

His eyes darted to the metal being that still stood thirty feet away from them. _And this is…? _

_He is Cuaroc, Hunter of the Nïdhwal and Bane of the Urgals. Silvarí, the Enchantress fashioned for him his body he now wears, so that we would have a champion to defend us should Galbatorix or any foes force their way into the Vault of Souls._

_He always assumed, _said Eragon as he stared about the chamber, _but he never could find anything to give life to his assumptions. _He watched as the dragon-headed man reached across his torso with his right hand, undid a hidden latch, and pulled open the front of his chest to reveal a purple Eldunarí attacked to thousands of silver wires, then Cuaroc swung shut his breastplate.

_Where are you? _

_I am here, _Umaroth then directed Eragon's vision toward an alcove that contained a large white Eldunarí. There was a part of him that was awed beyond belief, unable to comprehend what was happening about him. He had read about Umaroth and Vrael in his texts and scrolls when he was younger but never had he thought that he would be speaking to the dragon that was bonded to the last leader of the Riders. He wanted to say that it was impossible once more but he found himself unable to as he once more started at the low tier where the eggs were. It wasn't impossible, it was just unbelievable. Stepping forward as if drawn towards the glittering orbs, he paused and turned to Cuaroc remembering that the creature was still holding his blade at the ready.

"May I?" he asked both mentally and physically.

The dragon-headed man clacked his teeth together and retreated with crashing steps to stand by the glowing pit in the center of the room. Taking that as approval, Eragon started forward to lean against the lower tier, tugging one of his gloves off as he reached forward and placed the palm of his bare hand against the egg. A sense of wonder and reverence gripped him and he was once more astounded to the point of speechlessness. The Rock of Kuthian, the Vault of Souls—they were more than he could have hoped for. They were the hope for Saphira's race, for the Riders once more. After a moment, he withdrew his hand but only after he reached out with his mind to feel the slumbering consciousness of the dragon within.

"The world was not what it seemed," said Eragon as he straightened, resting a hand on Saphira's shoulder. "There are so many." He could feel the quivers coursing through her. She wanted, he could tell, nothing more than to rejoice and embrace the minds of her kin, but like him, she could hardly believe that what she beheld was real. Then she snorted and swung her head around until she was looking at the rest of the room before unleashing a roar that shook dust from the ceiling. Immediately Eragon's eyes darted to Cuaroc hoping that the dragon-headed man was not moved to action. Thankfully, he did not attack Saphira despite her threatening bellow. _How?! _She growled demanding answers. _How could you have escaped Galbatorix? We dragons do not hide when we fight. We are not cowards to run from danger. Explain yourselves! _

Her lack or disregard for manners told him that she was seething with anger thought Eragon as he stared at Saphira seeing for the first time how shaken and upset she was despite the fact that she was overjoyed to know that her race was not dead—not yet. But she had been tormented for years that she was the last female of her race and had to contend with that fact day in and day out. The times she'd spent with another of her kind was mostly with Shruikan, who was more a mad dog now than a dragon. She'd found comfort in the knowledge and existence of Glaedr, Eridor, and Thorn but this was too much for her it seemed. This revelation was forcing her to reevaluate her life and her existence.

_Not so loudly, Bjartskular, or you will upset the younglings in their eggs, _chided Umaroth as if he was speaking to an upset child. Had it been any other situation, Eragon would have laughed but this certainly was not a laughing matter.

Saphira's muzzle creased as she snarled. _Then speak, old one, and tell us how this can be. _

For a moment, Umaroth seemed amused, but when the dragon answered her his words were somber. _You are correct: we are not cowards, and we do not hide when we fight, but even dragons may lie in wait so as to catch their prey by surprise. Would you not agree, Saphira? _

She snorted again and lashed her tail from side to side.

_Had we joined the battle for Doru Araeba, we would only have been destroyed. Galbatorix's victory would have been absolute—as indeed he believes it was—and our kind would have passed forever from the face of the earth. _

_Once the true extent of Galbatorix's power and ambition became evident, _said Glaedr, _and one we realized that he and the traitors with him intended to attack Vroengard, then Vrael, Umaroth, Oromis, and I, and a few others, decided that it would be best to hide the eggs of our race, as well as a number of the Eldunarí. It was easy to convince the wild dragons; Galbatorix had been hunting them, and they had no defense against his magic. They came here, and they gave charge of their unhatched offspring to Vrael, ad those who could laid eggs when otherwise they would have waited, for we knew that the survival of our race was threatened. Our precautions, it seems, were well thought of. _

He glanced about the chamber once more realizing why they had chosen the Rock of Kuthian as the location for the Vault of souls. "This chamber is a mile deep isn't it? To hide the presence of all the Eldunarí and eggs from Galbatorix," said Eragon understanding the logic and why the tunnel extended so deep into the earth. "If he were to pass over the Rock of Kuthian, he would have just thought of the confusion of energy from the earth rather than from you all."

_Yes, _said Glaedr proud of Eragon's reasoning. _Moreover, before the Battle of Doru Araeba, more than a hundred years ago, all of the Eldunarí were placed in a trance so deep as to be akin to death, which made them at much more difficult to find. Our plan was to rouse them after the fighting was over, but those who built this place also cast a spell that would wake them from their trances once several months had passed. _

_As it did, _said Umaroth. _The Vault of Souls was placed here for another reason as well. The pit you see before you opens onto a lake of molten stone that has lain beneath these mountains since the world was born. It provides the warmth needed to keep the eggs comfortable, and it also provides light needed for us Eldunarí to maintain our strength._

_And you were the ones responsible for enchanting the memories of Glaedr and Oromis? _

_Aye it was us, _said Umaroth and there was a tinge of remorse in his voice, _all who knew of the Vault of Souls agreed to have the knowledge removed from their minds and replaced with a false memory, including Glaedr. It was not an easy decision, especially for the mothers of the eggs, but we could not allow anyone outside this room to remain in possession of the truth, least Galbatorix should learn of us from them. So we said farewell to our friends and comrades, knowing full well that we might never see them again and that, if the worst came to pass, they could die believing we had entered the void…As I said, it was not an easy decision. We also erased from all memory the names of the rock that marks the entrance to this sanctuary, even as we had earlier erased the names of the thirteen dragons who chose to betray us. _

_I've spent the last hundred years believing that our kind was doomed to oblivion, _said Glaedr. _Now, to know that all my anguish was for naught…I am glad, though, that I was able to help safeguard our race through my ignorance. _

Then Saphira said to Umaroth, _Why didn't Galbatorix notice that you and the eggs were missing? _

_He thought we were killed in the battle. We were but a small portion of the Eldunarí on Vroengard, not enough for him to become suspicious of our absence. As for the eggs, no doubt he was enraged by their loss, but he would have no reason to believe trickery was involved. _

Eragon thought of the words for a moment and it suddenly came to him why Galbatorix never questioned the loss of the eggs. "That was why Thuviel killed himself," said Eragon piecing two and two together. Oromis had said that they had not know why Thuviel had done so but only that he did, therefore making Vroengard uninhabitable and useless to Galbatorix.

_By his gift of life, he secured a future for both out race and the Riders. He was a great and courageous hero, and his name shall someday be sung in every corner of Alagaësia, _said Umaroth in a high manner of respect for Thuviel and his sacrifice.

_And after the battle, you waited, _said Saphira.

_And then we waited, _Umaroth agreed. Eragon glanced about the chamber not able to think of devoting even a century to sit by idly while the world shifted and changed from above. That said, he couldn't even last a year locked away by Faust. _But we have not been idle. When we woke from our trance, we began to cast our minds out, slowly at first, and then with ever-greater confidence once we realized Galbatorix and the Forsworn had left the Island. Together our strength is great, and we have been able to observe much of what has transpired throughout the land in the years since. We cannot scry, not normally, but we can see the skeins of tangled energy strewn across Alagaësia, and we can often listen to the thoughts of those who made no effort to defend their minds. In that way, we have gathered our information. _

_As the decades crawled past, we began to despair that anyone would be able to kill Galbatorix. We were prepared to wait for centuries if needed but we could sense the Egg-breaker's power growing, and we feared that our wait might be one of thousands of years instead of hundreds. That, we agreed, would be unacceptable, both for the sake of our sanity and for the sake of the younglings in the eggs. They are bound with magic that slows their bodies, and they can remain as they are for years more, but it is not food for them to stay within their shells for too long. If they do, their minds can grow twisted and strange. _

_Thus spurred by our concern, we began to intervene in the events we saw. At first only in small ways: a nudge here, a whispered suggestion there, a sense of alarm to one about to be ambushed. We did not always succeed, but we were able to help those who still fought Galbatorix, and as time progressed, we grew more adept and more confident with our tampering. On a few occasions, our presence was noticed, but no one was ever able to determine who or what we were. Thrice we were able to arrange the death of one of the Forsworn; when not ruled but his passions, Brom was a useful weapon for us. _

"My father," said Eragon softly understanding the extent as to which they had helped aid in shaping the fate of Alagaësia despite them being located a mile underground, hundreds of miles away from the mainland of Alagaësia.

_When Brom rescued Thorn's egg, and the Varden and the elves started to bring younglings before it in an attempt to find the one for whom he would hatch, we decided that we should make certain preparations for that eventuality. So we reached out to the werecats, who have long been friends of the dragons, and we spoke with them. They agreed to help us, and to them we gave the knowledge of the Rock of Kuthian and the brightsteel beneath the roots of the Menoa tree, and then we removed all memory of our conversation from their minds. _

He listened to them for a moment before their words struck him, "Why did you chose me to come here? Why not Murtagh or better yet Arya?" The fact that they had allowed Eragon to come rather than his half-brother or mate surprised him. Did they really trust him that much?

_At first we had planned for Murtagh to be brought here for when Thorn hatched he was the only free Rider there was. When Saphira hatched for you, Eragon, all hope was lost to us for Galbatorix now had control of one of the eggs in his possession and we feared that he might one day turn you into a person akin to his Forsworn. We could not risk reaching out to help you for Galbatorix was too strong and too cunning, he would feel our presence and would question whether or not what he knew of history was set in stone. It was too great of a risk for us to undertake. Thus, we had to place our hopes elsewhere and that was in Murtagh. However, when Arya was captured and sent to Gil'ead, we watched as you tended to her and we took our chances with what we saw believing that there could be change and so we sent Murtagh. And you proved us correct for you allowed your brother to escape with Arya as well as with Eridor and for that we owe you our gratitude for you have given the Varden a means to fight more so than ever. Our hope had never been so great for now the possibility of two Riders to fight against Galbatorix existed. Because of what you have done for us we sought to repay you. _

"How?" asked Eragon curiously.

_Though we lost hope when Saphira hatched for you and Galbatorix then proceeded to take you under his wing, we did not stop watching you and we understood your desperate desire to save your mother. And so we pushed her to act on her emotions and leave Urû'baen knowing that you would follow your mother to the Varden and you did and there, you made your decision to fight against Galbatorix despite the fact that you would have perished from the spirit in your body. Once again, we wanted to show your our gratitude for making a sacrifice for our race and the Riders. _

_When Asura, the spirit, sought to control your body, we reached out to help you. To pull you from the dark abyss else your soul would have been consumed by his. _

He remembered the darkness, the falling, and most of all the wise voice that spoke to him and had helped him pull through. Blinking, he turned his eyes to the white Eldunarí that was Umaroth. _It was you who saved me from Asura? _

_It was we, _confirmed Umaroth, _Asura may have been strong but he was no match for us and we gave you the means to fight him. And when Arya went to save you by reuniting your souls, we helped her to forge the bridge. She was willing to sacrifice her being to save you and due to that devotion we were able to merge both of your souls and in turn save you and that Eragon Shadeslayer, is our thanks to you for what you have done for us. _

_What else have you done for us? _

_A few nudges, warnings mostly. We gave Murtagh visions of Arya in Gil'ead, when she needed aid and brought him to you. The healing of Murtagh's back during the Agaetí Blödhren and the strengthening of your seal. _

All Eragon could do was stand there as he listened to how Umaroth explain to him how he and the other Eldunarí had reached out across Alagaësia to aid him. All this time thought Eragon somewhat bitterly, he had been relying on help even if he wasn't aware of it. It was that he was not grateful, it was that he realized just how little control he had of his own fate. It made him wonder whether or not everything he did up till now was truly his actions alone but he shook the thought from his mind. He was being foolish now. Umaroth had merely set the circumstances but it was he who made the decisions. But still, he was now certain that fate was not merely a force to be contended with but rather a game that more than one person played.

But he was grateful nonetheless to Umaroth for saving him from being devoured by Asura and for binding his and Arya's souls together. He owed his thanks to them that much was clear. Eventually he spoke, his words sincere. "Elrun ono," he said.

_You are most welcome Shadeslayer, _Umaroth continued his voice ringing in their minds, _We have watched both of you, Eragon and Saphira, for many years now. We have watched you grow from hatchlings to might warriors, and we are proud of all you have accomplished. Despite your dark pasts and the tortures you endured, you have done us a great service by choosing to fight for a free Alagaësia. You, Eragon despite all the faults that you see in yourself, have been all we hoped for in a new Rider. And you, Saphira, have proven yourself worthy of being counted among the greatest members of our race. _

Saphira was full of joy and pride at the dragon's words and though Eragon felt the same, he was humbled for he believed that Murtagh and Arya were just as worthy of such words that were bestowed upon him. But he had no doubt that Saphira had proven herself to be such for in his eyes, she truly was a great being. After a moment, Eragon knelt and placed his hand over his chest in a sign of respect as Saphira dipped her head. "My sword is yours—"

—_And my teeth and claws, _said Saphira.

"_To the end of our days," _they concluded together. _"What would you have of us Ebrithilar?" _

Satisfaction came from Umaroth, and he replied, _Now that you have found us, our days of hiding are over; we would go with you to Urû'baen and fight alongside you to kill Galbatorix. The time has come for us to leave our den and once and for all confront that traitorous Egg-breaker. _

_You have seen in my memories what it is Galbatorix is after? _Asked Eragon and he felt Umaroth pause in his thoughts thinking back to the memories that he saw in Eragon's mind and he felt a sense of slight urgency to the dragon's consciousness.

_Which is why we must not delay the inevitable any longer for if we did, Galbatorix will truly be undefeatable, _said Umaroth gravely. Eragon nodded and they proceeded to prepare for their travels back to Alagaësia. From the white dragon, he and Saphira learned that there were one hundred and thirty six Eldunarí in the chambers Umaroth had elected five to stay behind to guard the eggs in the vault in case they did not win the battle for Urû'baen a thought that Eragon did not allow to plague him. And to Saphira's and Eragon's great astonishment, protected in the vault were two hundred and forty-three eggs, twenty four which had been bound ready to find their Riders. While he conversed with Umaroth, Cuaroc had set out to work laying his shield and sword down onto the ground before he went to the alcove on the wall and withdraw the Eldunarí carefully before placing the gemlike orbs in the silk purse upon which it had been resting, the piled them gently on the floor next to the glowing pit.

It was a small number thought Eragon as he watched the work. Galbatorix had many underneath his control for he had captured them during the battle and had made many wild dragons disgorge their own Eldunarí before he killed their physical bodies. They would help in the battle thought Eragon but he was unsure if they would have enough power to actually kill Galbatorix. They needed more thought Eragon as his mind wandered to the last hope that he held: the true name of Alagaësia. But he had to admit know that it seemed improbable since they were so short on time. With no direction, there was no hope that he would ever find out what it was that Areth spoke about.

When Cuaroc was done, Umaroth called to him. _Come, Eragon. You must cast a spell now. The words are as follow—_

The wording was strange but he did not question the old dragon and instead drawing upon their magic spoke the incantation. The air around the uneven pile of Eldunarí rippled and shimmered; then the pile seemed to fold in on itself and it winked out of sight. A gust of wind tousled Eragon's hair, and a soft, dull _thud _echoed throughout the chamber.

Surprised, Eragon watched as Saphira pushed her head forward and swung it through the spot where the Eldunarí had just been. They had disappeared, completely and utterly, as if they had never existed, and yet he and she could still feel the dragon's minds close at hand.

_Once you leave the vault, _said Umaroth, _the entrance to this pocket of space will remain at a fixed distance above and behind you at all times, save when you are in a confined area or when a person's body should happen to pass through that space. The entrance is no large than a pinprick, but it is more deadly than any sword; it would cut right through your flesh were you to touch it. _The dragon was silent for a moment thereafter and Eragon could feel him gathering his thoughts. Then Umaroth said, _There is one more thing you and Saphira need to know. The moment you pass through the great arch behind you—the Gate of Vergathos—you will begin to forget about Cuaroc and the eggs hidden here, and by the time you reach the stone doors at the end of the tunnel, all memory of them will have vanished from your minds. Even we Eldunarí will forget about the eggs. If we succeed in killing Galbatorix, the gate will restore our memories, but until then, we must remain ignorant of them. _Umaroth seemed to rumble, _It is…unpleasant, I know, but we cannot allow Galbatorix to learn of the eggs. _

And so it was thought Eragon as he watched as Cuaroc retrieved his sword and shield as he took a seat on the throne in the chamber, guarding over the remaining five Eldunarí and the eggs. It was a difficult prospect leaving so many eggs with but a small force to guard them on the island of Vroengard but it was necessary, he knew that for he understood Galbatorix.

_Farewell, _he said with his mind after he had made his peace with his decision. When they won, he would remember them and he would take them from the isolation back to Alagaësia, back to the land above so that they could see the sights of the world and be free. For in a way, they were like him when he was younger, defenseless and trapped unable to see the world.

_Farewell, Shadeslayer, _five whispers answered. _Farewell, Brightscales. Luck be with you. _

Steeling himself, together he and Saphira strode through the Gate of Vergathos and thus departed the Vault of Souls. When they emerged from the entrance of the tunnel into the early afternoon sunlight that bathed the clearing before the Rock of Kuthian, Eragon frowned feeling disoriented. There was a shrieking cry that jolted him causing him to accidentally cut his hand on the doors behind him as they swung shut with a hollow boom, and the lines of glyphs upon them faded away, and the rough, mossy spire once again appeared to be a solid piece of stone.

Alerted to any signs of danger, Eragon drew his blade, his blood coating the pommel of Brisingr and dripping onto the azure blade causing his sword to glow brightly but he was too confused and disoriented to think much. He felt as if he was missing something. He turned to Saphira but she appeared fine, more than fine. Was it just him? Still unsure of what it was, he lowered his swords allowing the tips to dig into the soft, grass.

_Saphira, did you…_he started to say, then trailed off.

_What? _

_Nothing. I just thought…Never mind; it doesn't matter. _

Sighing, he went to pull his swords up from the grass but was surprised when they did not respond to him. What made his pause was the rivers of blood that poured from Vrangr into the ground coating the earth that he stood on in red liquid. _Saphira move out of the circle! _Doing as he warned, she watched helpless as he tried to free himself from the blood that pooled into an even circle that spanned at least ten yards in diameter. In his right hand, Brisingr glowed brightly while in his left Vrangr continued to exude the blood that it had devoured during battle and Eragon realized with a jolt that Faust's blood was still embedded within blade. _What is going on? _

The blood continued to pour and he watched in amazement as the puddle beneath him began to take form forming strange and ancient glyphs that he'd never before seen in his life. Then the crimson liquid began to glow brightly as if set aflame. And a strange hymn filled the air, the words ancient and alien having no relation to any language he'd ever heard but it was as if he was listening to a song deep within him, forgotten in the folds of history and the tugging sensation grew in strength. It didn't hurt but he felt it, a tugging sensation on his soul, unable to fight it he blinked as the world vanished before his very eyes and he felt as if he was falling, falling through space and time, weightless and yet burdened with his existence. It felt familiar thought Eragon and then it was gone and he found himself lying on water, a contradiction in of itself. Confused and disoriented, he laid there not comprehending what was happening. _Where am I? _

"Welcome child to the Vault of Souls."

**Hahahaha! And the big reveal shall come the next chapter! But sadly enough, I won't be updating tomorrow due to my project and the fact that I have an eye doctor exam, I'm treating myself to some new designer glasses peoples. Anyways, you will all find out what the last line means in the next chapter but I think you may have an idea where its going hopefully you don't know too much...Apart from this chapter though, I was surprised by the response to the questions. There was a general consensus on the worst event being Eragon's confession but I never really thought of the ending being a contender...And now that I think about it, that was a pretty anticlimatic ending if I have to say. The best varied which was interesting enough. Anyways, I hope to be uploading the next chapter soon! See you all when I do! **

**Question: Best ExA moment (apart from lemons) in the original/this story? (I like the moment when she healed his hand on her own accord. It was sweet in my opinion. I'm a sucker for ExA that's why there's so much of it in this story, hahaha.) **


	98. Chapter 94

Chapter 94

**Part 1 of 2 of the Vault of Souls in my story that I wanted to write about. Anyways, I worked rather hard on this chapter for you all, hope you enjoy it. (Standard Disclaimer: I do not own anything involving the Inheritance Cycle but one could always dream right?) Anyways, please do have fun reading everyone! R&R! **

"Welcome, child, to the Vault of Souls."

The voice sounded about him, smooth and strong as if they knew exactly how to address him. It was calming and soothing, filled with an ancient history that he could not sympathize with. There was a depth to the voice, powerful and soulful, and he waited for the person to continue speaking but they did not. Instead, the words merely echoed about him before fading away into silence without any indication of speaking once more.

Disoriented, he laid there blinking trying to comprehend what it was that had just happened. His body felt heavy and his mind ached as if someone had repeatedly battered his thoughts over and over again. _Where am I? _The thought echoed in his mind dully and his reaction time was significantly decreased. One moment he had just exited the Rock of Kuthian and now he was lying face down somewhere and while he laid there he realized that his swords were not by his side like they normally were. The information slowly inched its way towards him as his body recognized the lack of a physical object pressing against his hip or back and the emptiness in both of his hands. It crawled up his skin before winding down to his mind which made note of the fact that he was now defenseless.

Still rather wound up, Eragon surrendered to the fact that his body did not want to respond to him but rather laid there, trying to take in his surroundings as much as he could. But it was near impossible with his face against the ground, not having the strength to lift it. He did, however, managed to see the ground beneath him if one could call it that. The surface was clear and it rippled with every little movement from his body. The sensation was cool and flowing meaning that he was indeed lying on water. But he did not go through it, the ground held his weight never submerging him. As he stared at the clear depths of the water, he thought he saw a spark of color below but it appeared before him so quick that he was positive he was merely imagining things.

_Where am I? _

The question rang forth in his mind again as he laid there, trying to reel in the motion of his limbs. Whatever had happened to him had temporarily rendered him of his mobility. It was then that he realized how alone he was. He couldn't feel Saphira's mind nor Glaedr or Umaroth. The only comfort he had was Arya's faint feelings within his chest. It was a familiar sensation, as if he had already been in this type of situation but he couldn't remember how or when. All he remembered was that he had felt like this before. Feeling his frustration well up within him, Eragon blinked when he felt his fingers twitch showing that his body was slowly beginning to respond to his commands. Despite the heavy lag between his mind and his nerves, he was determined to regain full control of his body once more.

At first all he could do was twitch his fingers against the cool surface of water. Eventually, after enough struggling he managed to tap them against the water. Then he was able to clench and unclench his hands. It was a slow process trying to work out the kinks of his body as if it wasn't his but eventually after what seemed like hours, he was finally able to regain full control of his limbs despite the immense frustration that plagued him in doing so. With careful and deliberate actions, Eragon pressed his palms flat against the ground and push himself upwards until he was on all fours. Then, as if afraid his body would give out, he slowly rose until he was kneeling and then in an agonizingly slower pace, he stood on his feet. Never again would he take for granted his magically adapted body thought Eragon as he tested his weight on his legs satisfied when they did not give way.

Swinging his arms to and fro, he nodded, pleased that they moved with his commands albeit it still rather slower than he was used to. He would have to shake off his disorientation. He was positive that it was the cause for his lack of control over his body. After a few more minutes of testing out his body, he gave himself the clear and instead lifted his head to take in his surroundings, freezing on the spot as his eyes took in the sight before him.

For as far as he could see, the ground stretched out indefinitely on all sides of him. It appeared to be as if there was no other distinctive change to the land—water—about him except for the green wispy columns that extended from the surface of the water into the air, curving about and circling each other before returning to the ground. _Where am I? _For the third time, the question pierced his mind as he slowly began to walk in the direction he was facing, having no sense of purpose. Not willing to cast his thoughts out, he began to use his voice to call out into his surroundings.

"Saphira? Glaedr-elda? Umaroth Ebrithilar?" there was no response to his call and he had a distinct feeling that he was indeed alone. He felt a chill run down his spine. Wherever he was, he could not comprehend the overly serene atmosphere. It was too peaceful, too quiet for him to be at ease. Mindful of his surroundings, Eragon continued walking, his boots splashing against the water beneath him but never breaking through the surface. The serenity of the place made him cringe. It was as if everything was dead and he was the only living thing left to walk the waters. Unable to shake the feeling that he was going to sink through the water, he continued onward. As he walked he paid close attention to the surface of the ground catching sparks of colors and what he thought to be images but he himself wasn't sure. _Was his mind tricking him? _

There was something below him, he could feel it pulsing beneath his feet, insurmountable and yet flowing and controlled. He wanted to reach down and see if he could push his hand through the barrier but thought against it. The thought of not being able to escape was caution enough for him. Not stopping, he continued forward feeling naked once more without his swords. The last he remembered was trying to free his hands from his blades but now that they were empty, he wished his was holding them once more. _This place…_He had an odd feeling about it as if he had once been here but he couldn't remember when or if ever. It was like a forgotten memory to him, a long lost past that was starting to dig itself away to reveal its true nature to him.

Unsure of whether or not there really was anything in this place, he began to trail along, keeping his sights on the emerald columns that continued to circle about in the air, pulsing with life. Even with his mind closed and guarded, he could feel the energy seeping from the columns, filling the air, causing it to hum quietly with life. The emerald lines seemed to grow more dense and concentrated a few hundred yards away. Cautious and alert, he slowly made his way forward unsure if whether or not if there was a trap waiting for him. After half an hour of walking, he had to duck and weave in and out of the emerald columns and the closer he was to them the more positive he was that they were indeed composed of pure energy which made touching them all the more dangerous. After hearing how Thuviel had converted his flesh to such and rendering Vroengard useless, he was careful to keep away from the emerald rivers of energy that continued to weave and pulse through the air.

That was when he saw a slab of white sitting before him. It looked like a bench that was carved elegantly to resemble a throne. As he closed in on the bench, he saw deep carvings in the white marble—if it was marble but that was the closest material he could place it as—and noticed that there were ancient characters and glyphs etched into the marble. An echo of reminiscence struck in him and he thought he had once seen such ancient markings before. Nearing the throne-like bench that was large enough to allow someone to sleep and rest on, he stopped before it studying the ancient markings in the marble and blinked. The more he looked at it the more he thought it resembled Saphira's scratching on a solid surface as compared to an actual language. Unable to divine what it said, he reached forward to touch the characters, letting his fingers glide over the markings.

The moment his fingers glided over the smooth surface, which he was positive was marble, he blinked as the markings began to glow, bright and golden. The emerald rivers about him began to pick up in speed, stretching and dancing about as if he had done something to irritate them-to threaten them into action. Bending his knees as the water beneath his feet began to shift and change, he flinched to the side, narrowly avoiding the touch of one of the emerald columns. A loud clap of thunder sounded all about him, causing him to wince as the heavy noise pierced him to the quick. Glancing up, Eragon caught sight of clouds hovering above him that were not there before.

Was he being attacked? What was happening? His arms stretched out beside him to balance him, he thought of an escape in case this was an attack but the ground was open before him without any sort of object or building to hid behind. Another clap of thunder sounded, followed by a tremendous roar as if there was a dragon the size of a mountain hovering close by . The sound was too bellowing to belong to Saphira, too ancient to be Glaedr, and too all encompassing to be Umaroth. Then suddenly the emerald rivers closed in about him, forming a cage that refused to let him out, spinning and pulsing so much energy that it forced him on all fours, the magic threatening to tear him apart. There was a pulse in his chest and he gasped doubling over as his hands came up to grip at his heart trying to protect the organ as well as his soul which seemed to be burning with fervor and passion, burning so intensely that he was sure that Arya felt it despite the distance between where he was and where she was.

Then as if they had always been there, he blinked, his mouth wide and gaping as he stared up at the seven dragons that peered down at him. Their eyes were bright and burning and they were staring down at him as if they thought of him as a predator in their midst. Where had they come from? The shades of their scales were bright and they glimmered as if they stood directly underneath the sun. Golden yellow, white, black, red, blue, green, and violet—they all stared at him; their jaws opened, showing their large, fierce teeth, and he blinked as he felt their heavy breaths beat down on him.

_Who are you? _

_How did you arrive here? _

_What do you want? _

They all spoke to him, their voices old and ancient but out of the seven of them he could only understand three of the voices while the others spoke in an ancient language that was too alien and detached for him to understand. He caught some phrases that were deviant of the ancient language but otherwise he did not know anything else that they were telling him. Unable to answer them, he gasped when he felt a strong consciousness rip apart his mind and without any control over his body, he collapsed to the ground, his body burning from the inside out as if someone had shoved a fist full of fire down his throat and it continued to consume him, his heart beating furiously as if it was pumping inside a furnace as opposed to his chest. He felt the consciousness continue to tear away at his memories, at his entire being. It was different from how Umaroth and the Eldunarí had analyzed his thoughts and memories. Whoever was attacking him was stripping him down, cleaving him into thousands of pieces, destroying him and yet recreating him.

It was curious, very curious of his soul bond with Arya and a strangled yell left his lips when he felt their intertwined souls began to resonate within him as the consciousness touched their souls, testing their bond. Twitching on the ground, he sought a way to relieve himself of the pressure and the pain as his vision began to swim before him.

"_Arya, what is wrong?" her mother was holding her face in her hands as her body trembled and she felt her knees give out causing her to collapse, in a daze as if struck. It hurt. It hurt too much that she thought she was burning alive, drowning leagues beneath the ocean, and crushed inch by inch until she remained no more. _

He gasped, a spasm running through his body as he laid defenseless before the seven dragons that encircled him, refusing to let him go free. About him the prison of emerald energy did not relent but continued to trap him, refusing to let him out as if afraid he might escape and wreck some unknown danger on the land. It was as if their claws were digging into him, so painfully that he could not bear to hold the agony anymore.

"_Breathe Arya, you must breathe," Oromis was trying to speak with her but it hurt too much to take his words to mind. Every breath that she released made her afraid that her lungs might collapse in on themselves. She was in the embrace of her mother, whose arms were shaking and though she wanted to comfort her, her mind was in turmoil and the agony was almost enough to make her faint. _

They searched him, pinning down memories that they found interesting and twisting and shifting them into different perspectives, trying to understand each and every little thing they saw. They were untrusting of him, untrusting of what they saw, and what was more Eragon could feel a detachment from them as they watched his memories go by. They did not feel anything for the war between the Empire and the Varden, the only thing that moved them was the sight of the Eldunarí, Saphira, Thorn, and Eridor. They were frustrated at the slow death of their race and they were frustrated at the knowledge that Galbatorix was the cause of it. To add to their anger, the sight of Shruikan lying at the Black King's feet, no more than a mere dog was almost too much for them to bear. Their anger was so great that he felt as if their fury would manifest and spark a roaring fire.

_Someone was lying her down on the ground, and she heard herself and her strangled cries of pain and her heaving breaths for air. She saw her mother hover over her, could feel Oromis beside her whispering words in the ancient language, and could hear the rapid sounds in the tent as everyone tried to make themselves useful and assist her. Was she dying? _

_Her fingers twitched at the thought of dying so close to Urû'baen and she felt furious beyond anything else. Eragon had yet to return. She was not going to die here of all places and not when her mate was not even in Alagaësia. _

They lingered over his time spent with Saphira and Arya, as well as his tortures with Faust. There was something they were trying to reconfirm and though he was unsure of what it was they must have found it when they came across the memory of his time with Areth. They'd listened to her words, took them for its worth and then continued their examination of Eragon. He twitched once more when they found in the midst of his mind, his true name and fear washed over him. But the moment they heard his name, they gave it no mind. Their reaction to his name was minimal at most as if it was information and nothing more to be mindful about. They continued their assessment of him as if trying to see if he was worth their time, their presence, and their attack.

"_Drink this Arya," her mother held a goblet up to her lips and she parted her lips despite the painful heaves that she was trying to control and drank the amber liquid in the wooden goblet. It did little to help the pain but it dulled her mind to keep the sharp agony at a distance, however small it was. But despite the drink her mother gave her, she let out another strangled cry. Seeing her in so much pain, her mother swooped down and wrapped her within her arms, tucking her head underneath her chin. _

Eventually, he felt the pieces reformed and they began to reconstruct his mind with care as if making sure not to misplace his being in their reconstruction of Eragon. When they were done, he laid there in shock as the emerald prison loosened and the rivers returned to their original position circling about each other at a smooth pace as if they were never bothered. After a long moment, he was able to move once more, his head aching. Everything hurt but he was not dead at least. That was a gratifying thought.

The seven dragons did not move from their spots as they stared down at Eragon as if testing him. Cautious of their great strength, he pushed himself to his knees staring up at them. His eyes flickered from one to the other, staring at the gleaming eyes that bore down on him. Then he spoke, tentatively with both his mind and mouth. "Who are you?" asked Eragon staring up at the large white dragon who was much larger than Glaedr and as if a testament to his size, he appeared to be much fiercer.

_We have no names, _the white dragon blinked down at him, _we are the first of our kind to have ever flown in the sky of Alagaësia. We are the first. _

It was a male's voice that rumbled in his mind and he was glad that the dragon could understand him. He was unsure which three were the ones that could speak in the ancient language with him but it seemed the white dragon was part of the three. The earlier awe he felt at meeting Umaroth was overshadowed as he stared up at the seven dragons who were millenniums in age. They were the first of the dragons to have ever been born to Alagaësia, meaning that they were the first of civilization on the land. He stared up at them unable to speak nor comprehend what it was that he was seeing. They seemed so majestic and powerful that he could hardly breathe in their presence much less acknowledge their words that they were the first dragons to be born.

_You are the first of your kind to have stepped foot here, _he blinked when another voice spoke using his true name as opposed to his inherited name. He turned as his body shivered at the sound of his true name to the dragon who spoke. It was a female dragon by the sound of her voice and his eyes met the gleaming violet eyes of the violet dragon to his left. She was studying him intently. _Never before has a mortal been able to cross the gate and travel about Her lands unchallenged. You are the first to have done so and have caught us all unawares. Our apologies mortal for attacking you so but this is Her sanctuary. And we must take care in guarding it. _

His blood froze, he had heard of this type of speech before and it had come from Areth, another ancient soul that he had come in contact with. It couldn't be that they were speaking of Alagaësia? He glanced about his surroundings. They had called it her sanctuary just like Areth had once referred to it as. Was he hallucinating? Was he dead? It seemed plausible but he did not think he was dead. No, the only way he could possibly be dead was if he had faced Galbatorix and lost.

_Her sanctuary? _He asked tentatively afraid that he may overstep his boundaries. They were ancient dragons and he was sure that they had a different sense of manners as he was used to but they merely blinked, staring down at him. Compared to them thought Eragon bitterly, he was no more than an insect that could be easily dealt with. It just showed to reinforce how weak he truly was in the face of a truly greater opponent. Solembum was right: there were stronger forces apart from Galbatorix.

_The one you call Alagaësia, the mother of our race, _it was the red dragon to his back that spoke, his voice soothing despite its great rumbling and deep nature. He truly sounded ancient and each word he spoke rang out with ancient wisdom that not even Umaroth or Glaedr could exude. They were very different thought Eragon. Though Umaroth and Glaedr were accomplished dragons in their own rights, the seven before him were different. Their mere presence sent him to his knees.

_You have opened the gate and have traveled past the boundaries from the living, through the in-between, and finally you have broached Her sanctuary. No mere mortal can do such. You soul has transcended the planes of life, _the white dragon spoke once more drawing Eragon's attention. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he stared up at him. It sounded like he was dead.

_Am I dead? _

He was unsure why but it appeared as if his question sent a great deal of amusement through the dragons as they stared down at him. The sapphire dragon, who reminded him of Saphira but even grander and more majestic, hummed. Her deep voice filled the eerie air, giving him some sort of comfort. Seeing her, he missed Saphira greatly and wondered what had become of her and the Eldunarí.

_In a way you are for only the souls of the dead can cross the in-between and enter Her realm, _answered the white dragon peering down at Eragon, who had froze on the spot listening to his words. _However, your physical body is still alive. You are still connected to the living Alagaësia. The question is whether or not you can find your way back before your body becomes a mere shell of its former self. _

_You are unlike dragons, _once more they used his true name having no desire to use his birth name. He trembled once more as the red dragon continued speaking. They made no desire to control him despite the knowledge of his name and that made him inwardly humiliated. Even if they didn't know his true name, they had enough power to force him into submission easily. They were strong, much more so than he was. _You do not possess the ability to disgorge your heart of hearts like we do and cannot separate your soul from your body with ease. The more you attempt to do so, the more you risk exposing yourself to this realm and then you will shall be unable to return to the physical world. _

The knowledge of his plane traveling made him blanch and his hands trembled at the thought of remaining in such a realm while his real body was but a lifeless shell. The thought of not being able to return to fight Galbatorix shook him. He couldn't do that to the Varden and all the others relying on him. He needed to return to them.

_You are the first of your kind, _said the violet dragon lifting her head to sniff him as if his scent intrigued her. Tentatively, Eragon reached up and watched as she blinked at him. He was very aware of her sharp fangs that were much more threatening than even Glaedr's due to her size and laid a hand against her snout surprised that he did not pass through her. _Ghosts do not exist. _He nodded despite the tremor that ran the length of his body as she said his true name once more. She lifted her head to stare at him. _We have yet to come across such all of our years spent here guarding Her sanctuary. Never before has there been two beings to have shared their souls. Least of all two-leggings. _

_The world is not what it once was, _the white dragon said his voice rumbling with an ancient grief, _our race is dying. We are the first of our kind but it seems as if they are the last of us. _An image of Saphira, Thorn, and Eridor appeared before his mind as the dragon thought of the memories that he'd gone through in Eragon's mind. _We have rested far too long, content to our own duties that we have neglected the well-being of our descendants. _

_I do not understand, _once more Eragon was careful not to offend them as he spoke, _you said that this realm is for the souls of the dead…then are you not where you should be…? _He trailed off unsure how to end and he was on full alert, afraid that he may have angered them but they did not seemed angered instead, they merely stared down him.

_We are not dead, _he refrained from speaking out as he waited for the white dragon before him to elaborate, _when Alagaësia withdrew upon herself. Our race thrived for centuries but the seven of us had found respite and peace during our years and instead we decided to use our lives to serve Her. We laid to rest and weaved magic that would bring our heart of hearts through the barriers of the world and join with Her. Over time, our Eldunarí grew to become part of this world indistinguishable from the physical reality and our bodies died and gave way to the earth. _

_You gave up your life to live in Her sanctuary? _Eragon was beyond surprised as he stared up at the beings who were basically the first of life on Alagaësia and once the thought crossed his mind once more, he felt insignificant as if his existence was but a mere notch in history. He felt intimidated even more so than when he faced Galbatorix when he was younger.

_No, we lived out our lives and were beginning to grow old and merely find pleasure in sleeping our days away. We did not want to live our lives in such a way and instead we sought Her out and she accepted us into Her realm, _the white dragon explained to Eragon. He nodded and then as if he was seeking their approval, he sought words.

_Do you agree, _began Eragon as he kneeled before them, feeling too insignificant to stand, _with the pact that was made between your race and the elves and humans? _The first dragons were freed and wild and from what Glaedr told him, bonded dragons were often looked down upon for being too tame. He felt as if they would not agree to having a Dragon Rider in their midst.

There was a murmur amongst the dragons and this time they spoke in the alien race that Eragon had heard from the other four that were unable to speak in the ancient language. Eventually, the ruby dragon spoke once more, _it is unseemly that a race such as ours is bonded to two-leggings, elves and humans, but it has not been a cause for not. Alagaësia has thrived from the pact and it prevented the extinction of the races as we warred with each other. However, had it not been for this pact Galbatorix would never had come into power and our race would not have been in such a precarious situation. _

_We do not blame you, _the white dragon spoke his voice sincere despite the shame that Eragon felt. _You have sought to bring us back to our glory and for that you have our respect youngling. You have made a name for yourself that shall be remembered amongst all the races. _

_Can I ask how the three of you are able to speak in the ancient language? _

_We may not have kept a close eye on Alagaësia, _said the violet dragon, _but we do not neglect the memories that arrive here with the souls of the departed. We have taken an interest in the languages that have blossomed in Alagaësia and have taken with the ancient language. Or rather, three of us has. The others are not bothered to learn for they argue that they shall never need it. _

_It was beneficial for us in hind sight, _the ruby dragon spoke as if amused, _that we did so else we would have been unable to speak with you so. Now that we have answered your questions. What is it that you came here to seek from us? _He spoke Eragon's true name once more and as always, the bell of recognition rang forth from within him as he felt propelled to tell them why he had come.

_I do not know how I came to be here but I came seeking help to defeat Galbatorix, _said Eragon in almost a plea. With their help, he knew without a doubt that Galbatorix could be defeated—that they would be on equal footing with one another. The white dragon peered down at him and lowered his head until his snout was hovering over his head. He felt his breath against his hair and lifted his head to stare in the white irises as they seemed to size him up.

_We cannot help you for our connection to the physical world no longer exists, our bodies died long ago and without them we cannot hope to cross the boundaries despite whether or not we want to assist you and save the remainder of our race, _the white dragon spoke and Eragon felt his heart plummet to his stomach. They would have to fight Galbatorix as they were and he could not even begin to comprehend how they would do so.

_And the souls of the dead cannot depart through the gate like you can, _the violet dragon added sounding remorseful, _the gate only opens one way and that is when one dies and is admitted here for their soul to rest. We cannot open the gate from this realm if we wanted to. Though it is a wonder how you were able to open the gate and pass the boundaries despite being a mortal and a two-leggings. _

It was hopeless thought Eragon as he knelt there thinking of how to fight Galbatorix now that his last hope was gone. But then there was a murmur of the alien language once more and he glanced to the side to find the sapphire dragon speaking, her eyes blinking as her tail swung from side to side. There was a sudden clamor of argument about the dragons as they all seemed to debate something heavily while Eragon sat there unable to understand what it was that they were speaking about. Then suddenly they fell silent as the white dragon nodded solemnly.

_For you are the first to ever step foot here and your need is great, we shall see to it that we help you, _the white dragon spoke and Eragon watched as they lifted their heads skyward as if focusing on something high above them and then a strange humming took place mixed with a hymn that Eragon heard when he fell unconscious before waking up in the sanctuary that belonged to Alagaësia. They sang and they poured their entire being into maintaining the hymn and Eragon watched as the air vibrated with the sound of the soothing song despite the alien language that was mixed within. The ground began to shake and the emerald columns started to twist and turn in different directions and he saw that the white marble bench glowed once more, the markings burning brightly in the gray atmosphere.

The ground's shaking grew as the hymn continued, a product of the dragons' humming and their minds singing, and he watched as the emerald rivers began to wildly dance about, the energy that was condensed in them running free and if he was not careful, he felt his body ready to rip apart at the seams. But the hymn continued and there was a clash of thunder from above them and in the sky above, he saw the clouds take a wispy and willowy form of a woman. _If it was a woman_ thought Eragon. There was a flash of golden light that blinded Eragon and the ground gave a tremendous quake as the hymn of the dragons faded out leaving a comfortable silence in its aftermath.

Rapidly blinking to clear his eyes, he glanced about wildly at their surroundings, finding that everything was back to what it was originally as if untouched by the hymn earlier. The emerald columns were calmly circling and curving about each other, emerging from the waters and disappearing into it. The atmosphere was serene and calm once more and he heard the white dragon speak in a tone of complete reverence.

_Behold the mother of our race and our world, the world that you fight for._

**And so...Part 2 shall come soon but not tomorrow everyone. I know it's disappointing but I'm going to be busy tomorrow coming up with drafts and overlooking an extensive amount of paperwork...But hey, on the bright side I got my new dazzling glasses. Anyways, I'll try to see how fast I can update after tomorrow but I don't know for certain. Moving on, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I always wandered (as I'm sure most of you have) how the beginning was like and so I tried to incorporate some of that here. There may be some questions but that shall all be answered in the next chapter. Anyways, see you all soon! **

**Question: If you could be one person in the Inheritance Cycle, who would you be? And who would you like to know? (Personally my answer to that question would be Arya. Like I said before I just admire her character despite the way CP portrayed her.) **


	99. Chapter 95

Chapter 95

**I have nothing much to say here really apart from the standard disclaimer (Inheritance belongs to CP). So R&R everyone. **

It was bright—too bright for his eyes to adjust to the light that he had to reach up with his right hand to shield them. There was a serenity to the atmosphere. It reverberated deep within him and he felt a sudden sense of elation erupt in his chest at the thought of meeting Alagaësia. The hymn from earlier had faded as the dragons ceased in their humming and singing to leave behind silence. But never before had silence been so loud to his ears. Experimentally blinking, he lowered his hand, eyes alighting on the gray surroundings once more to find all seven dragons staring in one direction, their heads lowered slightly to show their humbled respects.

Cautious of the sight that awaited him, Eragon turned his head ever so slightly. His eyes found the marble bench and the person he saw sitting on it nearly made his heart stop. There sitting on the bench in an elegant pose was Arya but it wasn't her. He could tell that she was not the same Arya that he knew despite her appearance. She wore the same leather clothing that Arya wore, her hair was long akin to a mane that flowed down her back unbound by the lack of the usual headband she wore. The only physical difference between the Arya before him and the one that was his were her eyes. Rather than the deep jaded emerald that shined like jewels, the one before him were ancient sapphires. _This was Alagaësia? _

Finding his voice, Eragon spoke cautiously, "Who are you?"

Arya turned her head towards him, her eyes flashing before she rose from the bench in one fluid motion. Then with grace and dignity, she glided over to where he still knelt. There was an aura about her that made it impossible for him to move to his feet. He felt insignificant more so than when he was facing the seven dragons. Her presence commanded respect and he was instinctively giving into that demand. She opened her mouth speaking in the alien tongue to the dragons and her voice pinned him where he was. He could not move unless she gave him free will thought Eragon surprised. It wasn't that he was being held back by magic but rather, the power that resonated in her voice held him in place.

The dragons began to reply to her and after a few minutes she closed her eyes. He waited watching as Arya or rather the woman that looked like Arya stand still on the water in such a striking pose that he did not dare to breathe too heavily. After a long moment, she opened her eyes to stare down at him and her lips parted once more and this time she spoke in the ancient language, her soothing voice the sound of a forgotten memory in him. He felt as if he knew her, as if he'd known her all of his life.

"Welcome to my sanctuary," she spoke his true name and he found himself trembling once more. Her voice and her presence had some sort of affect on him that he could not understand but he knew that it was not intentional on her part. A part of him understood her and where she came from but he could not understand why. "You are the only live being to have ever been able to pass through the gate."

"Are you…are you Alagaësia?" asked Eragon quietly as he knelt before her, unable to bring himself to stand unless she told him so.

She inclined her head and had it not been for her eyes, Eragon would have been fooled into thinking the person before him was indeed Arya. But she wasn't and he knew that well enough now. There was a presence to her that made her different from Arya. She smiled as if his question amused her before speaking as she nodded, "I am Alagaësia as you call me. Or rather I am her spirit."

"Are you alive?" asked Eragon his voice quiet, barely above a whisper.

"Yes and no," said Alagaësia as she stared at Eragon still smiling as if he had said something particularly funny. "A part of me lives on in the physical world, as the land—as Alagaësia. However another part of me lives in this realm where the spirits of the dead reside. So I am dead but yet I am alive. You can say that I am living after death."

She motioned for him to stand and he did so as the dragons began to back away as if to give them some privacy. Without waiting for him to speak, she began to lead him about the open area, not really intent on leading him in a particular direction but she only seemed to want to walk about with him beside her and almost instinctively he wanted to reach out and take her hand but he stopped himself reminding himself once more that the person before him was not Arya. She was like Areth thought Eragon. She had taken a form that she knew that he was most comfortable with. It was unsettling but he could not speak out against her.

Finding his voice, he spoke, "Are you a dragon?" They had said that Alagaësia was the mother of the dragons. Therefore it would only be a justified assumption to ask that of her. She turned to stare at him as they walked, their feet causing the water to ripple ever so slightly outwards. "Areth told me that you were the mother of their race. That this land was made for your children."

"The dragons are indeed my children," she said in her ancient and soothing voice. "Long ago before the dawn of races, nothing existed except for the moon and the stars and this world was left barren. However, a change started to happen and life started to bloom. And when the sky met the land, our children were born. Dragons are the sons and daughters of the land and the sky, nothing is denied to them nor out of their reach. They are the true children of Alagaësia. However, I am not a dragon. Nor am I a human, elf, Urgal, Shade, Ra'zac, or any other creature you have had encountered in your lifetime."

"I am the embodiment of Alagaësia—of the flowing spirit that rests beneath the land. Many do not give much thought to the land anymore and forget that where they live and trample their feet upon is something that I give to them. I provide the life and energy that is enough to sustain the physical world of Alagaësia, and in turn that sustains the life that feeds from the land," said Alagaësia as Eragon nodded trying to remold his entire concept of the world as she spoke to him. When the war was over, he wondered if this sort of information was allowable to the public. It certainly seemed sacred and ancient. Would someone take advantage of it? Would they believe him?

Probably not. Despite all the best efforts Eragon had put into his studies, he had never gave a thought to Alagaësia, the land, or the life that fed from the land. He knew that the flow of energy was important but it was so simple that it always escaped his thoughts. Now, he was being told differently and he was having trouble trying to merge what the dragons told him with what Alagaësia was telling him. She continued, her voice flowing over him like how a river flowed over rocks. "Though I am not a dragon, their magic stems from me. They may not be able to control the deepest and most ancient of magic within them but it lies dormant in their souls, waiting to be tapped into and used. Only their emotions can bring that sort of magic forward for they have to be strong enough to reach past the boundaries of the different worlds and call it forth. That is how your dragon, Saphira, had managed to reconstruct the Isidar Mithrim."

She continued and they walked past an emerald column, "You say the souls of the dead reside here," Eragon began glancing about them, "But how come I only see the seven dragons and you here? There's not a soul around." His last statement was somewhat ironic to his own ears now that he heard it. Her smiled widened and once more he had to force himself to recognize that the person before him was not Arya. It was Alagaësia and he was sure that she would be displeased if he confused the two of them. If only she had taken the form of someone else that was less distracting. Not having seen Arya in days, it left Eragon with a greater longing for his mate than he thought possible from him.

"Look beneath you," she said and he did so blinking when he saw a shift in the water underneath. That was where he saw the small flicker of lights. "They are resting beneath us. They are living in the realm on the other side of the water. This place is a sanctuary for the souls of the departed. Unlike the Eldunarí, the other races cannot continue living without a physical body to encase their spirit. Before a dragon dies, they can disgorge their Eldunarí and continue to live with their soul entrapped in the case of their heart of hearts. That is how a dragon's spirit can continue to exist in the physical world when their body dies. However, the other races do not possess the ability to separate their souls and doing so can cause irreversible effects as you are aware. Therefore when a creature apart from a dragon dies, their soul cannot hope to last in the physical world and thus they pass through the gate to this sanctuary to reside."

He nodded, trying to digest the information.

"You are not dead Eragon and thus you cannot sink beneath the surface of the water," said Alagaësia as she walked.

"What is beneath the water?" asked Eragon as he stared at the ground beneath his feet. Were the sprits merely resting beneath them, unthinking and encompassed in darkness. Or was there something else?

"Another world," said Alagaësia as they continued to walk, the dragons having not moved from their spot where they had left them. But Eragon had a feeling that if he dared try anything threatening, they would be upon him without any sort of mercy. "Would you like to hear the flow of energy, of magic in Alagaësia?"

"Yes, if it will not trouble you to do so," said Eragon with a nod.

"The physical embodiment of Alagaësia allows for the rise of plants from its soils, and that in turn sustains the animals, and the animals in turns sustain those who hunt them. Then when their hunters die, they bodies returns to the land and their souls pass through the gates to rest here until their time comes. The cycle of energy is every continuous and that is called the Inheritance Cycle. One inherits the energy from the death of another and so on and so forth."

"However, the elves deny that way of life and rather seeking in the pleasures of flesh, they give up their cravings and satisfy their own needs with the plants born from the soil of Alagaësia and in return, they give back to the land," said Alagaësia with an odd smile and Eragon was reminded strangely of a mother talking about a beloved child. "That is why Du Weldenvarden is well protected as it is because the forest has the protection of the magic within the land."

They paused and Alagaësia glanced up at the emerald river that was before them. She reached out and Eragon watched in amazement as she gently touched her fingers to the stream. It glowed brightly and the strange hymn he heard from the dragons and before he fainted came to life. "This is the stream of consciousness," explained Alagaësia sensing his curiosity. "The memories of the dead gather here and come together to form a never ending history that continues onward. It is dangerous to touch and could easily overwhelm any lesser being. However, I trust that you, the only person to have ever set foot on these grounds can withstand it."

"What am I supposed to do?" asked Eragon, eyeing the stream of consciousness with untrusting eyes.

"Reach out to it and it shall react to your touch and if you are strong, you can overcome the magic that seeps from it," she said watching him with steady eyes and he realized with a jolt that she was testing him, to see if he was worthy. Not one to back down, he took in a deep breath and reached out to touch the emerald river that pulsed with life. The moment the skin of his index finger touched the river, he felt his knees buckle as his mind was overwhelmed with hundreds of thoughts.

He saw strangers he'd never met before, events that he'd never heard of, and things he did not want to see. They pressed against him, a tremendous amount of voices and images that threatened to rip him apart at the seams and leave him in tatters. Trying to reel in the thoughts that exploded before him, he fought against the pressing stream trying to find a moment in history that he could focus upon. Determined, he cast out in the ocean of memories that threatened to drown and suffocate him for once that would take his full attention away from the others. Shifting through the memories, he blinked when one particular memory came forward and stretched about his mind covering every nook and cranny that his mind had to offer. It completely blanketed out everything else.

_Urû'baen, there was a tremendous battle on the plains before the city. It was the elves, they were fighting against Galbatorix and his Forsworn. Above he saw the dragons circling the sky, bellowing their rage and their thirst for blood as the battle rages beneath them. He saw flashes of magic and heard the clangs of metal against metal and knew that this battle was one that was ferocious and at the same time tentative for the tide could easily be turned. _

_His eyes scanned for Galbatorix and he found the man standing in the midst of the raging battle, swinging the pale blade that once belonged to Vrael about in his hands, slashing down his enemies with a sword that once brought justice and order to Alagaësia not misery and sorrow. He was fighting with an older elf and Eragon recognized the elf with a jolt. He had seen him before on a fairth in Arya's chambers. _

_It was King Evandar. Overhead, Blagden flew as if to protect the elven king. _

_He was strong and powerful thought Eragon as he watched the king fight Galbatorix blow for blow, never tiring nor losing in speed or strength. They elves, Eragon assumed, were channeling their energy into the king so that he could fight to the best of his abilities. They were his greatest hope in defeating the traitor at the moment with the fall of the Riders and the death of Vrael, the only person who could have been capable of destroying Galbatorix had he not faltered when delivering the final blow. _

_Eragon watched as they fought knowing full well the outcome. Evandar, despite the opponent he was up against, did not falter nor did he flee as he continued to trade blows with Galbatorix, his expression one of pure fury. _This was Arya's father. _The thought crossed his mind as he watched the battle progress sadly. Despite their strength, Eragon could tell that the elves were struggling to maintain their fight with Galbatorix and his Forsworn. What was worst was that the dragons that they revered and respected joined the battle to attack the elves, who hesitated in killing them. _

_Then he saw it as Evandar raised his blade. There was a flash of black magic as their blades met and the blade of the sword in the elf king's hand gave way to the Rider's blade in Galbatorix's hands. The silver blade snapped, the halved end piece flying through the air leaving the king with a jagged and useless blade to defend himself. And even then he did not cower in fear but he was cut down with a savage blow. It was a dignified way to die thought Eragon as he watched the elves cry out in shock and surprise. Then there was a call amongst the elves and with their commander dead, they began to retreat having lost the battle and their last hope in defeating Galbatorix. In the midst of their retreat, Eragon thought he saw a young and angry Brom but he was unsure whether or not his mind was merely seeing things as he watched the elves pull back abandoning all hope. _

_Galbatorix had won. _

Blinking furiously, Eragon gaped as he felt a chill run through his body causing his legs and arms to tremble. Though he may not be in his physical body, his soul was very capable of feeling the norms of an actual body it seemed. He had saw Arya's father killed by Galbatorix and for some reason he felt beyond guilty as if he could have reached out and helped him or saved him from being killed by the traitor.

Realizing that he was indeed kneeling, he pushed himself to his feet his eyes darting to Alagaësia who was regarding him with an expression of approval. It appeared as if he'd passed her test for she stared at him with a half-impressed and knowing expression. "You did well to fend off the waterfall of memories," she stated turning back to reach out with a hand to touch the stream once more. She did not look as if she was overly affected by the stream. Instead, she closed her eyes with a soft smile before opening them once more. "The pieces of history come together here and here they stay."

He nodded shakily as she withdrew her hand. "If—if," Eragon began gathering his breath as he stared at her, "If you know what it is that is happening outside of your sanctuary, why is it that you have not helped Alagaësia? Galbatorix…he is trying to kill your children."

He had thought his words might anger her seeing as he was blatantly calling her out for abandoning her children but instead, she lowered her eyes to the ground, watching the ripples in the water for a moment before she spoke. "It saddens me to know that my children are being killed—to know that the children that I have come to love have turned against each other, slaughtering one another. Alagaësia was never meant to be controlled and horded to one person. It was meant for the races to live and thrive."

"Then why did you not do anything? Areth said that you abandoned the land," pressed Eragon curious as to her inactivity while the world suffered. She lifted her eyes to pierce Eragon with a hard stare and he immediately closed his mouth at the anguish on her face as if he had said something that he should not have and instantly guilt and remorse welled up within him so fast that he was shocked with himself.

She turned and continued walking and in response to the slight beckoning of her fingers, he followed her dutifully pulled by her presence and authority. "Long ago," she spoke his true name and he nearly toppled over as his legs trembled. "When my children took to the skies, I thought that it was enough for me to rest and so I withdrew and entered this realm—this sanctuary to rest for there was no need of my guidance back in the physical world. I did not belong there to meddle nor to hover. And so I rested for centuries until the dwarves were created and then they warred with the dragons. The blood that seeped into the land had blanketed me in my slumber and I was unable to wake. Then the elves began to war with the dragons, their magical blood filling the land once more and then for a time there was a moment of prosperous peace."

"However, during the years of war, the death of so many at so short of a time had changed the gate to this sanctuary," said Alagaësia with a slight frown, "No longer can I leave through the gate for I have slept too long here and have become one with this realm. And the gate has shifted changing so that only the souls of the dead may pass through. Do not worry," she caught sight of his alarmed expression, "You shall still be able to move about but I warn you, the more you enter this realm the more difficult it shall be for you to free yourself from the Vault of Souls."

Remembering what Areth said about a key, Eragon blinked, "You said that the souls of the dead can only pass through the gate…and Areth spoke of a key that they were searching for to reach the sanctuary…how did I…how did I get through the gate?"

"There is a key," said Alagaësia with a sad smile, "But it did not exist in Alagaësia until recently." Eragon blinked waiting for her to speak. "Your sword, Vrangr, was the key to open the gate. It embodied the characteristics of Asura, a wandering spirit that was trapped in your body as well as part of you and your mate. It is as much a part of this world as it is the physical Alagaësia. When your blade connected with the poisoned ground of Vroengard, Vrangr opened the gate with the blood of those it devoured and because of that the gate opened for you."

"It is ironic in hindsight when one thinks of it, of all the possibilities for a key to the gate of this realm, it shall be something that does not belong of this world. The metal of your swords was made from the shooting star that fell to Alagaësia, brightsteel as the elf-smith Rhunön calls it, and it did not belong to this world originally. That is why it can cut through anything that is made of this world, warded or not, for it has the strength to overcome what belongs on Alagaësia. How very odd and ironic indeed that one such as yourself should possess the key. You are the first being to have your soul bonded with another and as such you and your mate shall forever be part of one whole. You shall be together for eternity—in this life, in death, and in the life after death."

Eragon was glad at her words despite his earlier astonishment at hearing that Vrangr was the key to the gate. He had never expected that the key to possibly one of their greatest hopes against Galbatorix had been given to him, made by Arya's hands as a sign of her devotion and affection for him. To know that it was Arya who had given him the means made him eternally glad that they were bonded. Another part of him was joyful to have the depth of their feelings restated to him. They had eternity ahead of them just like she'd said.

"I wonder, do you believe it is fate that brought you here?" asked Alagaësia staring at Eragon with her unnerving sapphire eyes. "From what my children showed me of your memories, you are at the center of it all. Son to the Bane of Forsworn, Rider to the last female dragon, mate to the elven princess, foster brother to the king of dwarfs, a member of the halls of the Kull, the hope of the Varden, traitor to Galbatorix, Shadeslayer, and a bonded mate in a soul bond. Everything revolves about you Eragon. You are indeed very deep in the fate of all the races on Alagaësia. Never before have I met someone of such importance."

"You are speaking too highly of me," muttered Eragon humbled.

"No, I do not think so," she stared at Eragon for a long moment before glancing away as if ashamed. "I know what you came here seeking help from me but I cannot give it to you."

He started, his eyes growing wide. His last hope was shattered thought Eragon as he tried to reign in his intense disappointment. Yes, he still had Umaroth and the other Eldunarí but he had hoped fervently that he would have been able to return with something more for the Varden and their allies to rely on. He wanted their possibility to turn into some type of certainty when they fought Galbatorix. Now, he had nothing he could bring back—nothing despite Elva's reassurance that the true name to Alagaësia existed.

"It is not that it does not exist for it does but it shall be of little use to you," said Alagaësia as Eragon stared at her unable to mask his disbelief. "It is too long and lengthy for you to utter in a battle if you want to turn the tide in your favor. Centuries has passed since this land came to be and it has been changed and shifted continuously as the races began to settle and history began to shift with them. No, it is of little use to you especially since the gate shall not open to allow me to help you. Do not be mistake by my words. I want to assist and I am eager to rouse from my slumber but as my children had explained to you, little can be done here for the gate does not open from this realm."

"If I opened the gate, can you help us?" asked Eragon seeing a path that he could possibly take that would ensure their victory.

Alagaësia started at him for a long moment before she spoke in a slow voice, her soothing tone once more easing his stress. "You have the key to open the gate for yourself to enter through, however, you do not possess the power nor the strength to open the gate any wider than what is necessary for one soul to pass through."

"But is it possible though? To open the gate to that extent?" asked Eragon.

"It has never been forcefully opened by a mortal before," said Alagaësia her brows furrowed. "None have ever come across knowledge of the gate and you are the first to know. Understand that if you attempt to open the gate any wider than necessary, you shall be attempting something that no one has done before and the consequences can be severe."

"As long as I can defeat Galbatorix, I shall take the risks," said Eragon determined. By the look in her eyes, he knew that there was a way for him to utilize her help in the final battle. It sounded dangerous but he wasn't going to back down. Not now of all times. "Please, Alagaësia, help me to defeat Galbatorix and save your children."

Alagaësia blinked at him and he was once more struck with how similar her expression was to Arya's when she made the same contemplative expression. Then she spoke, her tone masked in caution as she did so, "There is a way I believe for you to attempt to open the gate…but you may very well end up throwing away your life to do so. I ask you," she spoke his true name once more commanding his attention as her azure eyes pierced his, desiring the truth from him, "are you willing to give up your own life for the sake of something that has a slight possibility of working?"

Eragon blinked staring at her. Her question stung him. It was as if she had struck him. Standing there, Eragon was at a loss for words. His life to use the gate? A myriad of emotions struck him, coursing through his heart in a raging torrent. Standing there, letting her words repeat themselves in his mind he keenly felt Arya's presence within him and knew that if he did not answer correctly, he was in essence betraying her in a way. Was he willing to die for the sake of Alagaësia? He knew that many expected him to die for their cause but he, himself, was not willing to give up his own life just for the sake of others. It was his life and he would do with it what he pleased and that was to live it out beside his mate.

"It is not that I am afraid of death but I do not wish to die," said Eragon with a steely voice, "I will not die for such a cause but I am willing to risk my life for it, if that makes any sense."

Alagaësia stared at him for a moment before she smiled and once more he had to hold his ground as his body made to embrace the body of Arya before him. "A good answer at that," she paused before drawing herself up and though she was shorter than him—Arya was originally shorter than him therefore making her short since she took her appearance—she appeared to stare down at him. "The danger that lies in opening the gate does not reside in actually opening it but in maintaining the size of the gate to allow any sort of connection between this realm and the physical realm. It is important to remember that the souls of the dead cannot linger outside of the Vault of Souls due to the lack of a physical body to make a bridge between this plane and the physical one. Therefore when you attempt to open the gate wider than it should be, you will have to use your body as the bridge between these two worlds. The toll of allowing the souls to travel through you will cause irreversible damage if you do not attempt to do so correctly."

"How will I be able to expand the size of the gate?" asked Eragon waiting on baited breath for her answer.

"Your soul consumed Asura's and therefore you have his strength and his inner power," said Alagaësia, "You will be able to reach out through the in-between to this realm and if you are strong enough you can maintain the gate. However, to open it larger than before, you must alter the key."

"Vrangr?"

"Yes," she nodded. And so she told him how to attempt to open the gate larger than before and he listened enrapt, memorizing her words with every fiber in his being and when she was done, he blinked when the dragons once more surrounded him and it was at this point that his senses began to fail him. He heard the strange hymn once more, saw the world shift before him, and felt a sensation of being ripped away from the folds of the world and being woven into it once more.

When he came to, he found a familiar sapphire eye peering down at him as he laid on the grass covered ground disoriented, his body aching. His eyes flickered to the items in his hands and he blinked at the sight of Vrangr and Brisingr. He was back…on Vroengard. As he laid there trying to regain his bearings, he heard her voice echo in his mind, floating over the hymn of the dragons as they sang.

_May fortune be with you child. Let us fight for this world._

**I think this story will end in a few more chapters so I'm gearing up towards the ending and then a few post-war chapters (I'm not planning on writing much). Anyways, I don't really have anything to say because nothing's really struck out at me. Anyways, see you all soon. **


	100. Chapter 96

Chapter 96

**And the ending is on the horizon everyone. I know there are several of you who wish to see a post-war sequel that involves reconstruction and the rise of the Riders once more as well as ExA and their possible child. And I am still contemplating the idea but I've been set on making a Time-Travel Inheritance Fic for a while. Still there are several chapters left and I may change my mind who knows? Anyways, the standard disclaimer (Inheritance=CP) so R&R! **

On the flight from Vroengard to Urû'baen, Saphira did not have to battle her way through a storm and was fortunate enough to have a tailwind to speed her progress, for the Eldunarí told her where to find the fast-moving stream of air, which they said blew nearly every day of the year. Also, the Eldunarí fed her a constant supply of energy, so she never flagged nor grew tired. As a result, the city first came into sight on the horizon a mere two days after they departed the island.

As, they flew the dragons had, through Umaroth, poured memory after memory into Eragon and Saphira: a cascade of experience—of battles won and battles lost, loves, hates, spells, events witnessed throughout the land, regrets, realizations, and ponderings concerning the workings of the world. The dragons possessed thousands of years of knowledge, and they seemed driven to share every last bit. But it was nothing as compared to the stream of consciousness that Alagaësia had showed him while he was trapped in the other realm. The great disparity between the memories just reasserted to Eragon that Alagaësia, her spiritual embodiment, was far more ancient than even the oldest of Eldunarí that traveled with them.

What would have turned out to be an overwhelming experience of torrents of memories that poured into his mind was lessened by the fact that he had already once been subjected to something similar but far worse by touching the stream of consciousness. The history of Alagaësia that he knew was insignificant and far from complete when he thought of the memories that made up the stream of consciousness. The memories of all the dead connected together to make one forever continuous stream of memories. While he and Saphira were trying their best to absorb the memories that were laid before them, he thought of Alagaësia and the seven original dragons.

When he had shown the memories to Saphira and the Eldunarí, the dragons were shocked beyond belief as they watched the first of their kind speak to him in his memories. There was a sense of awe and respect that he had never felt from even Umaroth when he spoke them. Their shock was almost similar to his when he first stared at the seven dragons and even then it was no doubt deeper, especially for Saphira to be able to gaze up the beginnings of her race. However, when they peered through his memories with Alagaësia, none of them could understand what it was that she spoke and that confused Eragon for she had spoken to him in the ancient language. And he had remembered hearing it as such and responding in kind, however the dragons heard a different language entirely. Did Alagaësia or the dragons do that?

Believing that Alagaësia wanted the knowledge that she shared with him to be a secret, he merely closed the subject off to the dragons altogether finding it difficult to try to explain to them what it was that she had spoken to him about for whenever he tried to say it aloud, his tongue would suddenly find it difficult to form words and his mind would become muddled. Yes, thought Eragon cautiously as Saphira flew, Alagaësia did not want him to speak of what she had spoken to him about. She had wanted it to remain a secret and as such took precautions that he had not known of until he had tried to speak about the brief moment he was in her presence.

It had puzzled him but he could only trust in what she did for he was sure that there was a reason as to why she had done so. As he thought of Alagaësia, he felt the reassuring pressure of Vrangr on his back and was once more awed that his sword held such a weighty significance. Thinking of his sword, he reached up to touch its pommel. _Vrangr…_

_Do you trust her? _

He blinked when Saphira spoke after they were given a brief moment's respite from the dragons' in pouring of memories. When his mind realized who it was that Saphira spoke of, Eragon paused for a moment. _She had no reason to lie to me. What she told me may very well be one of our greatest weapons against Galbatorix. _

She was silent for a moment then she spoke in a soft voice, _I know. _

_Then why is it that you feel so reluctant? _

_It is difficult to trust in something that I have no knowledge of, _said Saphira in a slightly defensive voice. Eragon blinked and inwardly sighed feeling guilty for not seeing the obvious in his bonded partner. He knew that Saphira was eager to fight Galbatorix and face their destiny but there was also the fact that they also had to contend with the thought of death or even worse, enslavement by Galbatorix, in the final battle.

_We took our chances with the Rock of Kuthian, _said Eragon trying to balance both situations on a scale that was somewhat biased, _let us take our chances with what I was told. If it means winning, then I will not back down. _

_As I know you will not, _said Saphira and he could tell that she sounded torn between being proud of him and being worried for him. Saphira was, after all, similar to a mother hen. Though he felt a twinge of irritation of her at being compared to such a weak and wild creature, the affectionate way in which he thought so prevented her from speaking out against his thoughts. As she fell silent, he took a moment to think of her words. He was worried about the outcome of the final battle as well, as confident as he was in his abilities, he was hesitant when it came to opening the gate during the battle. It had never been done before and the unknown consequences that could follow made him anxious. He was willing, however, to take his chances and trust blindly in the fact that it would help them fight Galbatorix.

_Let us see who is stronger, _thought Eragon darkly as Saphira neared Urû'baen, _your control of the ancient language or the strength of Alagaësia. _

For the duration of the flight apart from subjecting himself to the onslaught of the dragons' numerous memories, he oftentimes withdrew upon himself as he thought of what was to come and how to best face it. He had a plan in mind but he was not certain if it would bode well not just for the Varden but for the whole of Alagaësia. If he opened the gate too wide…Just the thought of it made him anxious as he thought of connecting the realm of the dead with the realm of the living through the use of his body as the bridge. Throughout the flight and his constant thoughts, a variety of emotions ran through him. Frustration at his lack of certainty at the battle that loomed overhead, worry over his loved ones, eagerness to see the war done with, and most of all the fear that he felt in once more coming face to face with Galbatorix. The man had humiliated him back at Gil'ead through the use of Jeremiah's body but now, Eragon was stronger and he was not going to have a repeat of the ragdoll act that he was forced to play to the traitor king.

When at last Urû'baen came into view, the Eldunarí ceased sharing their memories with Eragon and Saphira, and Umaroth said, _Now you would be best served by studying the lair of our foe. _

This they did as Saphira descended toward the ground over the course of many leagues. What they saw did not surprise either of them. Saphira and Eragon had spent most of their life in Urû'baen, locked away in the thick and tall walls of the city. He stared at the dark city and the mountain of stone that Galbatorix had surrounded himself with. Eragon knew by experience how difficult it was to escape from the city and it was similarly just as difficult to break entry past the thick walls.

A mile southwest from the walled shelf and the city beneath lay the Varden's camp. It was significantly larger than Eragon remembered, which brought to mind that Queen Islanzadí and her army must have finally joined forces with the Varden. Despite all of Galbatorix's power, even the kind had to be wary of the might of the elves. They were not a force to be reckoned with, especially not united.

When he and Saphira were a league or so form the tents, the Eldunarí helped Eragon extend the range of his thoughts until he was able to feel the minds of the men, dwarves, elves, and Urgals gathered within the camp. His touch was too light for anyone to notice unless they were deliberately watching for it. Searching through the multitude of minds, he came upon the soft melody of one particular mind, narrowing his focus on Rosalie as he reached out to her.

_Rosalie, _he said. _It is I, Eragon. _The more formal phrasing seemed natural to him after so long spent reliving experiences from ages past.

_My lord! Are you safe? Your mind feels most strange. Is Saphira with you? Is she hurt? Where are you?_

_Nothing is amiss, do not worry. _

_Then—_Rosalie's confusion was evident.

Cutting her off, Eragon said, _We're not far, but I've hidden us from sight for the time being. Is the illusion of Saphira and me still visible to those below? _

_Yes, my lord. The elves have Saphira circling the tents a mile above. Sometimes she is hidden in the bank of the clouds, or the elves make it seem as if you and she have gone off on patrol, but they do not dare let Galbatorix think you've left for long. I will ask Blödhgarm to make your images fly away now, so that you may rejoin us without arousing suspicion. _

_No, do not do so yet Rosalie. I need them to maintain their spells for a while longer. _

_My Lord?_

_We are not returning directly to the camp. _Eragon glanced at the ground. _There is a small hill perhaps two miles to the southeast. Do you know it? _

_Yes, I can see it. _

_Saphira will land behind it. Have the leaders of all the races present as well as Oromis, Jörmundur, Bard and the others, my father, and Roran, _Eragon paused on the name of his cousin. He did not want to involve a human such as Roran in his plans but his cousin had proven himself an apt leader despite his lack of education. So he grudgingly added his name to the list, _join us there. However, tell the dragons to remain at the camp. I do not want to arouse an suspicion if they were to fly out to meet us. Make sure that those who do come do not leave the camp all at once. If they can hide themselves, that would be best…Ah, you should also bring Blödhgarm as well. _

_As you wish my lord. We will meet with you as quickly as we can, but it may take some time to stagger our departures correctly. _

_Of course. I trust you'll do what's best. And Rosalie, would you tell Oromis that I require something from him? He shall have to bring it to me to avoid arousing any suspicion. _

_I shall my lord. _

Eragon severed their connection and leaned back in the saddle. He could only imagine their expressions once they learned of the Eldunarí. He had no doubt that Oromis would be most affected. He would be brought to his knees in emotions thought Eragon, perhaps all the elves would be once they learned that the leaders of their past were still alive albeit in stones rather than bodies. _Before a dragon dies, they can disgorge their Eldunarí and continue to live with their soul entrapped in the case of their heart of hearts. That is how a dragon's spirit can continue to exist in the physical world when their body dies. _

Once more Her words rang out in his mind and he had to push the thoughts away. The biggest priority at the moment was speaking to the others and convincing Nasuada to merge his plans with hers. Though she may be his liege lord, he was unwilling to go into battle until she took into consideration his battle strategy at the moment.

With a whirl of wind, Saphira landed in the hollow by the base of the hill, startling a flock of nearby sheep, who scurried away while uttering plaintive bleats. Sliding from the shadows, he stretched his sore limbs after two days of traveling. At the thought of seeing Arya again, he felt a pleasant sensation run through him. Though he was not as enthused about meeting Islanzadí once more, he would have to do his best to try and make amends so that mother and daughter could march into battle without any regrets. While they waited, Eragon ate a red apple wondering how it looked like to others to see the pieces of an apple mysteriously disappearing. Curious, he saw himself through Saphira's eyes and nearly choked at the sight of an apple floating in midair half eaten. As he ate, Saphira had sprawled her full, sinuous length on the ground next to him, though he could not see her. Her presence was betrayed by the shadow impression her body left upon the flattened stalks of grass, like a strangely shaped hollow.

As he ate, he gazed out at the pleasant fields around the hill, watching the stir of air in the stalks of wheat and barley. He took another bite of his apple listening to the thoughts of the mice in the grass and the worms in the earth and the birds that fluttered past overhead. _They were part of Alagaësia, _thought Eragon in slight wonder as he gazed about the vast land and the animals that roamed about. Then he heard her voice in his mind once more, soothing and overwhelming.

_The physical embodiment of Alagaësia allows for the rise up plants from its soils, and that in turn sustains the animals, and the animals in turns sustain those who hunt them. Then when their hunters die, they bodies returns to the land and their souls pass through the gates to rest here until their time comes. The cycle of energy is ever continuous and that is called the Inheritance Cycle. One inherits the energy from the death of another and so on and so forth._

_Yes, _agreed Eragon once more letting a sense of awe overwhelm him as he thought of the fact that he had spoken to the land, _it is an Inheritance Cycle indeed. _

He took another bite of his apple pausing in his chewing as he sensed the approach of Arya, Blödhgarm, and Queen Islanzadí. He glanced in the direction of their presence not alarmed when the shadows of their footsteps moved toward him from the around the western side of the hill.

The air rippled like water, and then the three elves appeared before him. Queen Islanzadí stood in the lead, as regal as ever. She was garbed in a golden corselet of scale armor, with a jeweled helm upon her head and her red, white-trimmed cap clasped about her shoulders. A long, slim sword hung from her narrow waist. She carried a tall, white-bladed spear in one hand and a shield shaped like a birch leaf—its edges were even serrated like a leaf—in the other.

Taking in her appearance for a moment longer, Eragon took a bite of his apple once more as his eyes drifted to her daughter who stood at her right flank and his heart nearly failed him. Arya, too, was clad in fine armor. She had exchanged her usual dark clothes for a corselet like her mother's—although Arya's was the gray of bare steel, not gold—and she wore a helm decorated with embossed knotwork upon the brow and nosepiece and a pair of stylized eagle wings that swept back from her temples. She was beautiful thought Eragon as he stared at her. Támerlein hung from her waist, the emerald scabbard glinting in the sunlight. Though the splendor of her raiment did not compare to her mother's, Arya's armor only served to add to the deadly image of a warrior that she possessed. He stared at the two. Together, mother and daughter were like a pair of matched blades, where one was adorned for display and one fitted for combat. He stared at Arya before taking another bite of his apple, struck at how she appeared. He thought he saw a twitch of her lips as she stared in his direction but his eyes had drifted to Blödhgarm.

Like the two women, Blödhgarm wore a shirt of scale armor, but his head was bare, and he carried no weapon besides a small knife on his belt. Eragon stared at the elf wondering if he was going to go into battle as he was. He took another bite of his apple finishing it before tossing the core to the side letting it return to the ground.

"Show yourself, Eragon Shadeslayer," said Islanzadí, looking toward the spot where he stood. Eragon released the spell that concealed him and Saphira, and then not wanting to appear ill mannered before Arya's mother and the Queen of the elves, he bowed to her in greeting. When he straightened, he did not cringe nor flinch beneath the stare of her emerald eyes that reminded so greatly of Arya's. "It is a relief to know that you have returned unharmed Shadeslayer."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Eragon murmured inclining his head to the Queen. He stared at her noticing that her posture was relaxed as she stood before him. The last time he'd spoke to Queen Islanzadí, she was in stupor that was unlike herself after the battle for Gil'ead. He was unsure whether or not she'd let his union with Arya pass but she was certainly not addressing the matter currently.

His eyes darted to Arya and he was surprised to find her faintly smiling at him. There was a hint of relief in her emerald eyes and he knew that it was also gleaming in his own brown eyes. They were together once again. His fingers twitched and he longed to close the distance between them but he resisted the urge and instead kept his feet planted firmly on the ground seeing as Islanzadí was studying him intently. _Just wait until you're alone, _Eragon repeated to himself firmly.

The elves plied him, Saphira, and Glaedr with numerous questions, but the three of them refused to provide answers until the others had arrived. Still, Eragon thought that the elves sensed something for the Eldunarí, for he noticed that they sometimes glanced in the direction of the hearts of hearts, although they seemed not to realize it.

Orik was the next to join them. He rode from the south on a shaggy pony that was lathered and panting. "Ho, Eragon! Ho, Saphira!" The dwarf king cried, raising a fist. He slid down from his exhausted mount and moved to greet Eragon and Saphira. Orik was much more amiable than Eragon last remembered him but then again, he barely paid much attention to others about him apart from a select few.

Roran, Murtagh, and Brom arrived on foot soon afterward. If he hadn't known better it would look as if the men of his family were merely spending time together. His half-brother gripped his arm and welcomed him, "It is good to see you back safe brother," said Murtagh with a smile. He like everyone else before Eragon was armored for battle in fine steel armor, Zar'roc offsetting the ensemble with its bloody hue. "I had my worries about your journey but it appears they were all for naught."

"Aye," agreed Eragon as he released his hand. "How is mother and Ella?"

"Well as can be, they are currently spending time with Katrina and the others from Carvahall," said Murtagh as their father came forward to embrace Eragon. Unlike usual, he did not stiffen nor deny him for on the horizon was a battle that could take away their very wells. The time for resentment was over.

"I am glad that you are unharmed son," Eragon nodded as his father drew away with a small smile. He spared his father one last glance before nodding in welcome to Roran, who returned the sentiments. He was a man of few words thought Eragon as he pulled away to study the forming group before him. He may not like Roran and his overbearing confidence much but he would not deny him his accomplishments.

Soon after the arrival of his family, his servants arrived cloaked in magic until they dispersed it. Bowing to him and he had somewhat impressed at how dangerous they looked in their own armor. He stared at the four of them as they laid their hands over their heart, bowing at a small angle to him a sign to show that they were offering up their hearts.

"Lord Eragon," they murmured.

"It is good to see that you are all well," said Eragon as they straightened. Bard merely grinned at ease while Finny nodded enthusiastically. The women were more calm and spared him slight smiles. Whether or not they were anxious of the battle to come, he could not tell for they acted normally and without any slight changes to their personalities. They were as he'd left them. He stared at the four of them for a moment knowing that he would be relying on their skills later.

Fifteen minutes later, the king of Werecats Grimrr Halfpaw appeared walking side by side the Kull, Nar Garzhvog. Eragon, as he did for the rest, greeted them respectfully making sure to lift his head when doing so the Nar Garzhvog, least the Urgal believe he was challenging him. Eventually, it took another half an hour until the last of the congregation arrived. Oromis had arrived five minutes before Jörmundur, King Orrin, and Nasuada. And Eragon was immensely glad to see his master as well as he could be under the circumstances presented to them.

His master was dressed accordingly for battle. He was dressed similarly to Queen Islanzadí. Oromis wore a corselet of golden scale armor, as well as bracers upon his arms. A tall, diamond-shaped shield was slung on across his back, an archaic helm rested in the crook of his left arm, and around his waist was Naegling, his golden sword. They spared each other a short greeting to which Eragon did not miss the expression of curiosity on his face as he went to stand beside Queen Islanzadí.

When Jörmundur, King Orrin, and Nasuada rode up Eragon politely greeted them. Waiting for them to settle themselves, his eyes roamed over the congregation of people before him realizing that almost every race was represented before him except for the Ra'zac which Murtagh and he brought the fate of extinction upon. _They have no place here either way. _Gathering himself, he stood before them tall and proud and ready to reveal the secrets of their travels and the hope they had found against Galbatorix, one more easier to discuss than the other. First, he had everyone swear oaths of secrecy in the ancient language. Then he explained the concept of an Eldunarí to those who did not know of it, recounting a brief history of the dragons' gemlike hearts with the Riders and Galbatorix.

The elves appeared uneasy with Eragon's willingness to discuss the Eldunarí before the others, but none protested, which pleased him. He knew Arya trusted in him fully but did not know if Islanzadí, Blödhgarm, or Oromis share the same sentiments since he was revealing such a deep secret. Those who did not know reacted as he thought they would with surprise, disbelief, and dozens of questions. All of which he tried his best to answer without getting frustrated for they kept on halting him in his explanations.

Throughout his explanation, Orrin was surly and remained stridently unconvinced of the existence of the Eldunarí. In the end, the only thing that quelled his doubts was when Eragon removed Glaedr's hearts of hearts from the saddlebags and introduced the dragon to the him as well as those who had yet to meet him.

The awe displayed at meeting Glaedr gratified Eragon. Even Orrin seemed impressed, although after exchanging a few words with Glaedr he turned to Nasuada, who seemed to be expecting his anger, for she turned to face him as well. "Did you know of this?"

She inclined her head before nodding, "Yes for I was told by Arya and Murtagh at Feinster about their existence."

The admission displeased Orrin. "So once again, you chose to ignore me. Without the support of my men and the food of my nation, the Varden would have had no hope of confronting the Empire. I'm the sovereign of ruler of one of only four countries in Alagaësia, my army makes up a goodly portion of our forces, and yet neither of you deemed it appropriate to inform me of this!" _Obviously, _thought Eragon observing king and his tantrum.

Before either Eragon or Nasuada could respond to Orrin, Orik did so seeing that an argument was close to brewing. "They did not tell me about it either, Orrin," the dwarf king rumbled. "And mine people have helped the Varden for longer than yours. Eragon and Nasuada did what they thought was best for our cause; they meant no disrespect."

"As Orik says," agreed Nasuada unmoved by Orrin's anger. The king scowled and looked as if he was going to continue arguing but Glaedr preempted him by saying, _They did as I asked, King of the Surdans. The Eldunarí are the greatest secret of our race, and we do not share it lightly with others, even kings. _

"Then why have you chosen to do now?" demanded Orrin. "You could have gone into battle without every revealing yourself."

In answer, Eragon recounted the story of their trip to Vroengard, including their encounter with the storm at sea and the sight they had witnessed at the very top of the clouds. While Arya, Blödhgarm, and Oromis appeared most interested in that part of the story, Orik was the most uncomfortable and he knew it was because dwarves did not take kindly to leaving the ground. He continued his tale, telling of how he, Saphira, and Glaedr had entered the Vault of Souls, though he refrained from divulging that this had require their true names. And when he at last revealed what the vault had contained, there was a moment of shocked silence.

Then Eragon said, "Open your minds."

A moment later, the sound of whispering voices seemed to fill the air, and Eragon felt the presence of Umaroth and the other hidden dragons surround them.

The elves staggered, and Arya dropped to one knee, pressing a hand to side of her head as if she had been struck. Eragon had instinctively moved to her but had to catch himself. Queen Islanzadí knelt, adopting a pose much like her daughter's. In his mind, Eragon heard her speaking to the dragons, greeting many by name and welcoming them as old friends. Blödhgarm did likewise. However, unlike the others, Oromis remained standing, a hand pressed to his temple as an expression of fierce joy emerged on his face as his memory was returned to him. He was exuberant in the fact that he had managed to protect the Eldunarí in his ignorance, very much the same as Glaedr reacted.

Apart from the elves' reactions, he took great interest in the others. Grimrr's tail twitched from side to side in apparent pride and pleasure as Umaroth greeted him, thanking the werecats for carrying their message as they had asked. Orik uttered a cry and looked about, wild-eyed. Roran, Jörmundur, and Orrin stood dumbfounded. Murtagh and Brom were widely smiling, a look of fierce hope and joy on their faces. Nar Garzhvog merely tilted his head from side to side as if something bothered him. And Eragon's servants merely stood there waiting and alert despite what they'd learned. He was glad that the four of them were prepared to leap into action in case they were required to. His eyes darted to Nasuada and he could see how determined and hopeful she looked mixed with her awe at being able to meet the dragons. Off in the distance, he could hear the joyous roars of Thorn and Eridor and only hoped that the dragons did not do anything to scare or alert the rest of their forces.

He waited patiently, understanding their emotions for he had felt similarly when he had learned of their existence. The elves seemed most affected by the revelation: Blödhgarm stared into the air with an expression of joy and wonder, while Arya continued to kneel. Eragon thought he saw a line of tears on each of her cheeks. Islanzadí beamed with a triumphant radiance, and for the first time since he had met her, Eragon thought she seemed truly happy. There was a moment of silence as the dragons spoke solely to Oromis and Eragon thought his teacher appeared much younger than he'd ever did before. He was glad thought Eragon as he stared at his aged teacher, that he was able to be reunited with his comrades before the final battle.

Eventually when they'd settled Orik was the first to speak, "By Morgothal's hammer, this puts a new twist on things! With their help, we might actually be able to kill Galbatorix!"

_A wonderful vote of confidence, _thought Eragon somewhat sarcastically as he nodded.

"This will give us a level field," agreed Murtagh his eyes gleaming. "We will be able to hold our own against him."

The Orrin spoke up. "Umaroth says that you have devised a battle plan. Do you intend to share it with us, _Shadeslayer?_" Eragon did not miss the sarcastic way in which he drew out his name.

To Eragon's surprise, Queen Islanzadí spoke next, "I would like to hear it as well," she said in a kinder tone. That was probably the nicest she'd ever sounded when speaking with him thought Eragon stunned.

"And I," said Orik.

His eyes darted to Nasuada, seeking permission to speak. She nodded waiting for his strategy. Eragon took in a deep breath, "Before we speak about any sort of battle plans, there is one more thing that I have learned while on Vroengard," said Eragon slowly unsure of how to phrase it. He paused trying to collect his thoughts which were beginning to drift at the moment at the whispers in his mind and he was glad when Umaroth had asked for silence for him. He took in a deep breath and his eyes flickered to Arya's momentarily before he spoke. "Apart from the Eldunarí, we will have another ally to fight beside us during the final battle. One that Galbatorix has never given thought of."

"And who is this ally?" asked Nasuada curious and cautious.

He doubted they would believe him the first time around but he answered her as confidently as he could, "Alagaësia." His answer, as he expected was met with silence. They stared at him as if seeing whether or not he was confused but he merely stared back. He was not surprised when Orrin let out a snort.

"My apologies Shadeslayer but I was under the impression that you were speaking of a real ally," Eragon did not rise to the bait but he shook his head.

"I am not jesting Your Majesty," said Eragon as he stared at them for a long moment. Then it was Saphira who spoke.

_Perhaps, you should show them your memories Eragon. _He frowned, he doubt what good it would do for only the elves, Brom, Murtagh, and his servants would be able to understand the memory for it was only in the ancient language that they spoke. But he relented and reached into his mind to retrieve the memory in which he spoke to the seven original dragons. He could feel the immense surprise and astonishment the emanated from the elves as they listened to the dragons speak. Even Brom and Murtagh were stunned but the moment the memories ended, like Eragon had predicted those who knew the ancient language were struck while others were not.

Orrin seemed even more short than usual, "That did not prove anything. We cannot count on an ally because of your delusions." Insulted Eragon frowned and then he sighed. Remembering what Alagaësia had told him, he slowly withdrew Vrangr from his back staring at his sword. Then with a flourish of his arm unsheathed the deadly sapphire blade.

"Then watch," said Eragon taking in a deep breath as he pinned Orrin with his stare. "It will only be for a moment but you shall be able to feel her spirit." Stilling his hand, he brought Vrangr to the flat of his palm and cut a thin line across his hand, watching as his sword devoured the blood that made contact with its blade. Moving back a few paces from the others, he held Vrangr parallel to his body with the tip pointing downwards before driving the sword into the ground.

There was a moment of silence before the ground about them began to quake and once more blood began to pour from Vrangr, his sword emptying itself onto the ground as he fought to keep his soul within his body as he began to open the gate once more. Above them, he saw the clouds stir as a strange hymn filled the air and a glowing symbol composed of his blood glowed beneath him. All about, the animals stirred calling out wildly and the stalks of grass seemed to sway to an unknown breeze. He dug Vrangr deeper trying not to sink into the gate as it started to open beneath him. _Maintain control Eragon, _he thought to himself repeating the world that Alagaësia had taught him to prevent his mind from blanking completely.

That was when he saw a shift in the ground beneath him, at first it was not noticeable but them he watched as a root peaked itself up from the ground, the bark forming a hand. Surprised, he nearly lost his consciousness once more as he kept the gate open refusing to let his soul be tugged in. The hand continued to reach upwards and soon enough a faceless wooden soldier appeared from the dirt. He watched in surprise as it turned its head towards him before kneeling as if waiting for his orders. Then there was a loud cry and he glanced about to find a pack of wolves standing on the hill, tamed and calm. The ground gave another tremendous quake and the hymn grew. Knowing that it was too dangerous to keep the connection, he heaved and with a great effort pulled Vrangr free closing the gate.

It was the first time he had ever managed to open the gate without falling unconscious and it hurt. He felt his body quiver with the effort of it as he sheathed Vrangr and straightened to stare at their dumbstruck expressions. "Alagaësia, exists. Or rather her the spiritual embodiment of the land does," he huffed watching as the wooden soldier began to give way now lost of the magic that Alagaësia could provide before fading away in thousands of tiny wooden pieces. The wolves on top of the hill let out a whine before turning tail and running off, having lost interest in the proceedings now that the presence of Alagaësia was gone.

"She has promised," Eragon took in a deep breath, "She has promised to aid in our cause and in our fight against Galbatorix."

"By the gods," murmured Brom astonished. "Alagaësia…has a spirit."

"The land is alive," said Eragon, "And she is saddened by the constant fighting as well as the near extinction of her children that were originally born to Alagaësia, the dragons."

"And how will she help?" asked Orrin in disbelief, but Eragon could see the awe in his face at meeting the spirit of the land that he and his nation thrived upon.

"You shall see in the battle but to do so I need something from a few of you," he motioned for Oromis, Islanzadí, Orik, Nasuada, Grimrr, and Nar Garzhvog to come forward. Reaching into the saddlebags on Saphira, he grabbed the empty bowl that was inside and passed it to Nar Garzhvog. "If you would just fill it with a few drops of your blood."

They immediately bristled at his request but seeing his determination they did as he'd asked. He watched as the Urgal bit himself drawing blood. He held his hand over the blood a steady stream of his black blood falling into the bowl. Then he passed the bowl to Grimrr. The werecat had sliced his hand in the same fashion Eragon had done to himself and let a few drops fall into the bowl. And the bowl was passed about the leaders until Oromis lifted his hand, healing the broken skin as he returned to bowl to Eragon which was half filled with a mixture of their blood.

"And I have what you've asked for Eragon," he reached into his pocket to pull out a vial of red blood that was taken from Glaedr. He uncorked the vial and poured the blood into the bowl, scrunching his nose at the strange smell that the mixed blood caused. Dragon, elf, human, Urgal, werecat, and dwarf blood all created a strange scent. Careful not to knock the bowl over, he unsheathed Vrangr and held the tip against the surface of the blood watching as the blade drew the blood upwards. As he'd expected, Vrangr began to shake in his hands as it absorbed the last drop of blood in the bowl. Rather than pulsing violet, he watched as there was a shimmer over the sapphire blade before it took on a golden glow. _You must alter the key. _

He sheathed his blade thanking them. "May I ask as to the purpose of taking our blood?" asked Grimrr staring at Eragon with his piercing eyes.

"It is necessary to awaken Alagaësia," said Eragon and that was all he was willing to give them. He paused before turning to Queen Islanzadí, "When we go to battle Your Majesty, you must tell your forces to not rely on their wards."

"And why is that?"

"Galbatorix for the past century has been searching for a way to control the flow of magic in Alagaësia and so it shall be a risk if we focus on using magic too much at least until Alagaësia joins the fray," said Eragon. Glancing about, he began to explain to them his battle strategy which was a risk but also it would give them an advantage against Galbatorix, who Eragon knew would never come out to fight on the front lines unless he was forced to. All the while as he spoke, he noted their silence and their grim faced determination. It was a risky plan that hinged on many factors but there was a constant in it and that constant was him.

"And you are determined about this plan?" asked Nasuada when he was done, Eragon nodded blinking when he felt soft hands slid into his. While he was explaining their next course of action, Arya had quietly joined his side shifting like a shadow between buildings until she stood next him—as if she had been there all this time. He could feel her worry and anxiety but he nodded.

"Do not fight to the citadel," said Eragon stressing that point, "Only to the center of the city and hold the lines there. If we force the armies too deeply in, it will greatly stiffen any sort of flexibility. That is key." Then he continued to explain the major point of the battle and he could see that he was winning them over. Eventually when he was done he saw their fierce determination and their willingness to see the battle down and over with. But despite their reactions, he was focused on the slight pressure in his hand. He felt his expression hardened as he thought of the impending battle ahead.

_There are no more safe paths._

**I think I'm going to change the final battle up. It's not going to be as long nor while their be a lot of talking and blah blah blah with Galbatorix. I'm still thinking of how to end this favor-fully and with a bang. So let's hope I can all live up to your expectations everyone. I'm somewhat nervous because (in my opinion) I was drastically upset with how CP ended the Inheritance Cycle. So I'm going to try and overcome my disappointment with the original ending with the ending in this story. Anyways, see you all soon! **

**P.S.-100 Chapters everyone! Wow! **


	101. Chapter 97

Chapter 97

**A filler chapter before the final battle everyone! I'm getting so nervous! (Standard Disclaimer-Inheritance Cycle=CP). Anyways, have fun reading R&R! **

After a brief hour of more explanation on Eragon's behalf, it was agreed that they would go with his strategy. It was bold but it was what they needed to smoke Galbatorix out of his citadel. Eragon was not a fool, he had been trained under the traitor king for the most part of his life. He understood Galbatorix's twisted personality and the layout of Urû'baen, therefore he could spot the weaknesses in his opponents. Though he and Saphira had considered breaking through the traps that Galbatorix had laid out for them to reach him in the castle, they had decided against it. It was too dangerous to alienate their allies. Getting one dragon and Rider past would be a tremendous difficulty but to get all him and Saphira, as well as Arya, Murtagh, Eridor, and Thorn through would be impossible.

No, he was going to force the coward to leave his hole and face them.

He wasn't going to give into what Galbatorix expected of him. The king no doubt believed that he would fly straight to him and try to end the battle before it could ever hope to make way. But Eragon would not. He would smash his armies and force the city to its knees and trap Galbatorix within his own thick and tall walls just as he'd trapped him when he was younger. _I will make it your coffin. _

When the others began to drift away to make their preparations to move at the first rays of dawn, Eragon found himself standing with Arya beside him facing Queen Islanzadí. How unnerving. He wanted to say something but his throat suddenly felt rather dry. Tomorrow was the final battle and he did not want to offend the queen and serve to be the wedge that drove mother and daughter further apart. After a long moment Islanzadí drew herself upright to stare at Eragon.

"After this battle is," she paused looking as if she was struggling to speak to him. He paused his eyes darting to Arya, who shifted where she stood. She nodded just slightly to show him that the queen meant well and was trying to voice her words. "done and over with. If you and I are still alive I believe there are matters we must discuss. Though I do not agree with your union, I am hard pressed to dictate my daughter's life with my decisions. Her choices are her own," her eyes flickered over to Arya who was watching her mother with kind eyes. Had something happened between the two of them? "Though you and I are different Eragon, we are the same in that we both wish to protect Arya. And so I ask of you that you watch over her for this battle will be unlike any of our kind in history. I do not wish to see Galbatorix enslave someone so independent and free-spirited as Arya."

Eragon's brow furrowed at the thought. He would never let a thing become of Arya, "You have my word You Majesty, that a fate such as that will never be Arya's."

His eyes darted to Arya as she stared at her mother, then with long, graceful steps she moved towards Islanzadí, her hands reaching out to take the queen's hands in her own. "For as long as we can," Arya's eyes darted to Eragon, "Let us fight together Mother." He nodded to her. He would not deny Arya the request to fight alongside with her mother in a battle that could possibly be the end of their lives or freedom.

"Before you do," said Eragon hesitating but he steeled himself. They both deserved to know and he would not deny them. "There is something you must see, if you would please open your mind to me." He readied himself to bring forth the memory and when both of their minds touched his, he opened his slightly to let the memory pour forth. He knew Arya had uncertainties about her father's death and he wanted her as well as Queen Islanzadí to know how Evandar had died a valiant death, how he did not run away from battle even when he knew in that split second that he would not prevail as the victor. When the memory came to an end, he pulled back blinking as his eyes focused on mother and daughter.

Islanzadí's face had an appearance that she was facing a bright light while Arya's eyes were closed and he saw a few tears fall from her eyes. Now she knew how her father had died. He was killed by Galbatorix and as he watched the both of them, he saw the determination that flashed across their faces before Islanzadí opened her eyes once more to pin Eragon with a stare. And he saw that in that one moment, the queen did not hold any sort of ill feelings towards him for he had shown her the memory of her mate that had long eluded her grasp. Now with the knowledge of Evandar's death, he could only pray that Islanzadí would fight and become the victor. He did not want Urû'baen to become the tomb of both of Arya's parents.

"Mother," though her voice was soft, there was a hardness to it that belied her determination, "I will not runaway. Even against Galbatorix, I am my father's daughter and I shall not bring him shame nor our family if I turned away from my fate now. I will not have it said that I am a coward. Those of our family do not turn away from what must be done, neither shall I."

"No, we cannot," Islanzadí agreed and it seemed as the memory of her mate's death had struck a chord in her. Her eyes connected with Eragon's once more and in them, he saw a silent request. A request that she had harbored in her heart for a hundred years: to bring Galbatorix to justice. With grim faced determination, Eragon nodded. He was not going to let Galbatorix go not with how many lives he'd ruined over the century. "However, I would not lose you again so soon, Arya. It is only since you brought the new Riders to Ellesmeŕa that we have begun to speak once more, as a mother and daughter ought."

"And you shall not lose me," Arya placed her hand on Islanzadí's face and Eragon was struck by the emotion between the two women. Feeling as if he was intruding he went to avert his eyes. "I promise you, I shall not die." She paused and spoke once more in the ancient language, "_I shall not die." _

Arya's determination made Eragon proud of her for she trusted in herself and her abilities. She believed in it without qualification that she would not die and it lightened the anxiety in his heart. Islanzadí appeared impressed, and proud too. She smiled and kissed Arya once on each cheek. "Then we shall fight together, and we shall not run."

"Yes," and the two of them embraced.

As they separated, Eragon took this moment to approach Islanzadí pulling from his pocket a thin golden bracelet. He lifted it up and held it out to the queen. She glanced at it with a curious question, "It is a bracelet that was given the blessings of the spirits," said Eragon as the queen lifted her hand allowing the gold to wrap itself about her wrist as if it were alive. "It shall provide significant protection should magic fail."

"Thank you Eragon," and he could tell from the sincerity of her words that she meant it. Then to his surprise, she rested her hand on his face and said kindly, "May your swords bring us victory and cut a new fold in history."

"I shall do my utmost Your Majesty," said Eragon in the ancient language watching as she nodded. She spared Arya one last look before she turned and swept away returning to the camp to gather her forces. When they were finally alone, apart from the Eldunarí and Glaedr, Eragon was able to gather Arya into his arms once more despite her armor he was glad to hold her within his embrace knowing that within a few hours they would be forced to fight against an enemy that had controlled Alagaësia for a century, an enemy who had killed her father, an enemy who had imprisoned Eragon and nearly been the death of him. They were going to end things once and for all. He was anxious but he was eager—eager to see what laid on the horizon. Careful to avoid her helm, he bent down to press his lips against her in a chaste kiss not allowing himself to be swept away in his emotions. He had to remain in control during the battle. He would be the spear that led the Varden into battle. He could not afford to be sidetracked, not for anything.

"I have missed you Arya," said Eragon quietly as he held her in his arms. She shifted but did not pull away.

"You…seem different," murmured Arya as she tilted her head back to stare up at him. He smiled at her as his arms tightened about her even more. After conferring with Saphira, who gave her approval without a moment's hesitation, he spoke once more.

"We learned our true names."

Arya's eyes widened. "You did? And…were you pleased with them?"

_In part, _said Saphira.

Eragon nodded, "I know who I am now in the greater schemes of the world. For so long, I did not know. I did not have an identity that I was comfortable with but now, I do know and I accept it for it is who I am. The world…is much different than what I perceived it to be."

"I see," murmured Arya as she pulled back slightly, her gaze kept on his. She blinked once before she spoke, "Was it difficult to find your true names?"

So he told her how they had accomplished it, and he also told her about the strange creatures they had encountered on Vroengard Island, which interested her greatly. After promising that they would one day visit the island together, he continued once more asking Saphira for her permission. She gave him her approval but albeit a bit slower than before. The idea resonated within him and he did not want to back down. It was not the fact that their last hours could be upon them but it was the desire to let Arya know him, truly know him. When they finished speaking of Vroengard, he looked Arya in the eyes and reached forward to take her left hand in his resting it against his chest. "Arya, I would like to share my true name with you."

The offer seemed to shock her at first but she blinked and he saw an emotion pass on her face that he rarely if ever saw. He could not name it but he could see that she was grateful that he trusted her to such an extent and that she was overwhelmed. Letting her wrap her hands about his neck, he took a step closer to her. "I have been waiting for this moment to tell you mine as well," she murmured, "I had thought long of it since before you left for Vroengard and I wish for you to know mine as well Eragon. It is only fair."

Her words touched him for he did not necessarily ask for her true name but she was willing to give it to him as a sign of their trust in each other. She was giving him everything and he could only respond in kind by giving her everything of him. "Will you listen to my name Arya?"

Her emerald eyes were ablaze with emotion for a moment but they softened and she nodded. "I will. And I promise to remember and protect it for so long as it remains yours." He smiled as he leaned forward to place his lips by her ear, careful to their surroundings. He wanted her to know, he wanted to give this to her and the thought of it was exhilarating and somewhat frightening—to give someone the means to control him. But he trusted in Arya and he would not have anyone else but her to hear his name. Then with a soft breath, he let his true name slip from his lips. His whole being vibrated in recognition of the words.

Then he pulled his head back so that he could see her reaction. Would she be disappointed in his name and the slight darkness it carried? He was not proud of those words but he knew that they were testament to his character. She blinked once, her eyes turning to stare skyward before they returned to him and her expression was tender. "Your name, it fits you well," she said in a low voice, "It is a good name." Then she leaned forward to whisper his name in his ear and the feeling that went through him was pleasurable to hear it from her lips. There was a way that she said it that made him feel complete and he sighed softly, happy. "I am honored to be your mate, Eragon."

There were no words to describe how he felt. He waited for her to speak hers. She reached up placing her lips by his ears as he did for her and in a barely audible whisper she told him her true name. As she spoke, the name rang within his mind, and with it came a rush of understanding. He knew a great deal of her name but there were also many parts that surprised him, parts that he realized must have been difficult for Arya to share. She was proud and wise but also very selfless and determined. In her name there was her clear affection for Eridor, her devotion to her family, and her desire to help her people. But there was also a wish to see the world and to be loved. And there was a part that made his heart warm for it showed her affections for him albeit indirectly.

It meant much to him to have her speak her true name to someone the likes of him and he would forever cherish it for as long as it remained hers. "Your name is a good one Arya," he murmured as he pulled her tighter against him ignoring the metal of her armor. "I will forever cherish it for as long as it belongs to you. I am honored that you told me." He whispered her name in return and felt the tremor of her body in his hands as he spoke it. "Have you ever told anyone else of your name?"

"No, you are the first," she murmured once more giving him the honor of knowing her name. He winced slightly as he thought of the others who knew his name. Kissing her once more, he paused thoughtfully.

"Now you can wake me up without having to poke and prod me," he said thinking about her commanding him awake. At his words, she let out a soft laugh, one of her hands moving up to massage his hair. He sighed as he felt her nails scratch his scalp.

"Perhaps," she agreed in a slight teasing manner.

After a moment of peaceful silence, he spoke once more. "How did you learn your true name?"

Arya was quiet for a long moment before she took a breath and said, "It was a number of years after I left Du Weldenvarden, when I finally had become accustomed to my role among the Varden and the dwarves. Faölin and my other companions were away, and I had a great deal of time to myself. I spent most of it exploring Tronjheim, wandering in the empty reaches of the city-mountain, where others rarely tread. Tronjheim is bigger than most realize, and there are many strange things within it: rooms, people, creatures, forgotten artifacts…As I wandered, I thought, and I came to know myself better than I ever had before. One day I discovered a room somewhere high in Tronjheim—I doubt I could locate it again, even if I tried. A beam of sunlight seemed to pour into the room, though the ceiling was solid, and in the center of the room was a pedestal, and upon the pedestal was a single flower. I do not know what kind of flower it was; I have never seen its like before or since. The petals were purple, but the center of the blossom was like a drop of blood. There were thorns upon the stem, and the flower exuded the most wonderful scent and seemed to hum with music all on its own. It was such an amazing and unlikely thing to find, I stayed in the room, staring at the flower for longer than I can remember, and it was then and there that I was finally able to put words to who I was and who I am."

"I would like to see that flower someday," said Eragon softly. If it moved Arya that much, he would not mind to stare upon such a flower.

"Another thing we shall do together once this war is over," she said sealing the promise of a future together. She embraced him once more before gently pulling away. "I should go and confer with my mother and her generals. There is much yet to be done."

He frowned slightly but knew that he shouldn't be greedy for her time. A battle was coming soon. With a sigh, he bent his head to kiss her but this time more passionately as he slipped his tongue in between her lips to pin it underneath his, suckling on it gently. Eragon would have continued but her hands on his chest stopped him, gently pushing him away.

"Go do what you must Eragon, I shall come for you an hour before dawn," with that said she squeezed his hand gently before turning to leave. He watched as she soon disappeared around the curve of the hill, leaving him alone with Saphira and the Eldunarí. After a moment, he reached out for his servants to signal for them to return. They did so appearing before him five minutes later. He nodded to them and after warding the area he turned to the four of them.

"I need you four to assist me during the final battle," said Eragon as he untied the strap of Vrangr and handed it to Bard watching as his blond servant's eyes widen. "I need you to take this for me."

"But my lord, you'll need it to fight—" Rosalie protested but Eragon shook his head.

"I promised that Vrangr would be a sword used to protect," said Eragon, "It will not be the sword to kill Galbatorix. Brisingr shall do it."

"But what do you need of me?" asked Bard in shock as he gripped Vrangr in his hands, the blade shaking slightly. "I cannot wield Vrangr like you can and the sword does not accept any other wielder apart from you and Arya. It will be wasted on me."

"It is not meant to be wielded in this battle," Eragon explained, "It shall be used to awaken Alagaësia. I need you four to do exactly as I say, you must swear it to me." Instantly, they seemed to catch on what it was that he was asking of them. There was a moment in time when he had once spoken to them as such and he knew it was alarming them.

"But what is it that you want of us my lord?" asked Desdemona confused and slightly reluctant though she and her three companions gave him their word to do as he asked. "Are you unwell?"

He chuckled slightly, "No, I am well but you must do what I ask of you else we will be at a disadvantage to Galbatorix. You four know the layout of Urû'baen more so than any other soldier there is in the Varden. Therefore I can only entrust this task to you."

"We will not fail you," promised Bard with a determined expression.

"Bard, I shall help push forward to the center of Urû'baen but the moment Galbatorix and Shruikan leaves the citadel, I shall leave the forefront of battle to you. You need to make it to the center and defend it. However, do not use Vrangr and do not let any blood taint the blade in the battle, wrap it if you must to keep it from absorbing anymore blood," ordered Eragon as his servant nodded, his eyes fierce. _The key cannot be altered. _

"While Bard is defending the center," said Eragon turning to Rosalie and Desdemona, "I need you two to use magic to etch a circle onto the ground, the pattern needs to be exact." Taking a moment to show them the markings in his mind he gave them ten minutes to memorize what they saw trusting that they would be able to keep it exact. He understood their abilities and had faith that they would not fail him.

"We shall see to it my lord," Desdemona muttered.

Then he turned his eyes to Finny. The young boy stood ramrod straight, awaiting his orders. "You must scale the parapets Finny and destroy the catapults, you need to guard the advance to the center. That is the focal point of the battle, I shall keep Galbatorix and Shruikan away from the fighting however I cannot guard every opening in our advance. Because the walls are thick and tall, retreat will be difficult and the fighting will be more in Galbatorix's advantage. You all must maintain this position until Alagaësia joins us. It will not be easy but I trust in your strength Finny."

"I will not fail you Lord Eragon!" he proclaimed loudly.

"Now listen closely," Eragon told them to come closer to explain to them the process of how to go about the process of waking the land and after about two hours about making sure that they could do it well enough, Eragon was satisfied enough to let them go. He watched as Bard wrapped Vrangr multiple times in a silk wrap before tucking the sword beneath his arms as if it were a precious piece of glass. Then the four went their separate ways to prepare before the final battle. Knowing that he could count on them, he turned to Saphira, reaching out to contact Blödhgarm to make their mirror images disappear so that they could return to the Varden.

The first thing that came to him was to visit Oromis and Glaedr's actually physical body which was not hard to miss seeing as the dragon was larger than a hill and merely lying in the field to the east of the camp. It was odd to see his physical form after spending so much time with his Eldunarí. He kept forgetting that Glaedr was more than a mere stone. Still, the dragon was intimidating both ways. Oromis was sitting on a stool facing the city wearing an impassive expression when Eragon came to join him. He muttered his greetings first and crouched quietly beside his master his gaze flickering towards the black city.

"Tomorrow will be the release of a century's worth of pain," said Oromis quietly even though Eragon had yet to open his mouth to speak. "It frustrates me that I will not be able to fight Galbatorix myself but if I must guard the army, then I shall do so."

"I shall make sure that Galbatorix understands the century's worth of sadness and anguish that his rule has caused," said Eragon promising it to his master as he sat there. "If it is any comfort to you, I wish that you were buy my side in the final battle. If there is anyone that is deserving to face Galbatorix, it is you for he betrayed the Order for his own selfish ambitions."

"Thank you Eragon," Oromis turned to him with a slight smile. "If I may say so, you are not the man that came to me in Ellesmeŕa. You have changed in the short time that has elapsed between then and now. It is a good change and for that I am glad."

He bowed his head humbled. "You speak too highly of me Master Oromis."

"No, I do not believe I am," Oromis disagreed, "You have become more than we can hope for and once this battle is done with, you shall become the new leader of the Dragon Riders. I can think of no other person more fitted for the task of rebuilding our long lost order. Tomorrow Eragon, now this as you fly into battle. I have faith in you and I am the one that is honored to fight alongside you."

"Thank you Master Oromis," said Eragon feeling the tips of his ears burn at his praise.

"You, Arya, and Murtagh," said Oromis looking distinctly proud, "The three of you shall become leaders of a world that is much different than the world that I once belonged to. I am proud to have been your teacher, however short it has been."

"You will still be needed after this battle," said Eragon adamantly while Oromis chuckled.

"Perhaps," he amended with a slight nod not refuting his words. Eragon stared at his master for a moment before they both sat together in silence not having the words to speak. Then wanting to give Oromis a moment's peace and solitude with Glaedr, he left bidding him farewell so that they may collect their thoughts before the final battle.

The next manner of business was putting on his armor. Stepping into the shadows for a moment, he pulled off his plain steel armor to replace it with the silver armor the dwarves crafted for him before the battle of the Burning Plains. Tightening the armor on his body, he slid on his helm that Rhunön had crafted for him and stretched letting his body become accustomed to the slight weight that pressed down on him. Done and dressed, he wove through the tents, Saphira having flown off to rejoin Eridor and Thorn in companionship. Searching through the woolen tents, he stepped between the shadows as the soldiers went about with their preparations.

They were saying farewell to their families and others were praying for their victory. But there was one race that unnerved him. The elves were fairly quiet about the upcoming battle. He knew that most, if not all, were going to join in the battle. The few that remained were going to guard the camp and stay back to heal any of the wounded that managed to escape the city. Though they were forced to fight after a century, he could only feel for them despite their obvious strength and power. He could see an unease about them which was no doubt due to Islanzadí's proclamation that half an hour after battle that magic would not be used by them in order to defend themselves against Galbatorix better. If they killed, they would do so by hands and weapons. They would also have to be mindful of their surroundings and those about them for no doubt their wards would begin to fail them if Galbatorix uttered the true name of the ancient language and therefore change the ancient language in turn. They could not take that risk and as such they all had to fight as if they could never use magic in the first place. And he knew that it irked them for they were a race that relied upon magic.

_It is just until Alagaësia can join us, _thought Eragon grimly as he moved between the tents to find Arya's tent amongst the rest. He swept the tent flap aside, she was not inside as he suspected. Reaching underneath her cot, he pulled out the bags that belonged to him that she'd kept for him while he went to Vroengard. Dumping the contents onto the cot, he stared at the black armor and the horned helm. To think he would rely on this even at this point.

"I have kept my promise to you," said Eragon in the ancient language as he stared at the armor. "It is your turn to fulfill your promise to me."

All remained silent for a moment before his armor gave a twitch. He watched as if held by invisible strings, his armor piece itself together as if there was a person wearing it. The helm lifted itself up and fixed itself upon the armor piece turning to stare at him though the empty slits in the helm. He stared at the armor. "You will need a sword," Eragon said watching as the left gauntlet raised to the air, the palm of the metal hand expanding outwards. A great amount of iron dusting mixed with gold ores came up from the ground forming a sword, thin and sharp. "Do you remember my request?"

The helm was inclined to the side and he took that as a nod or as close to it as it could get. Nodding to the empty armor, he watched as it swept the tent flap aside and disappeared into the night. They would keep their end of the promise to him. He did not doubt it in the least. Taking in a deep breath, he cleared his mind as he thought of the next destination he had to go to.

Ten minutes later, he found himself standing within his parents' tent. It was agreed upon by their family that his mother and father would remain behind to guard those who could not fight at the camp and to remain by Ella's side. Murtagh and Eragon had practically bullied them into it.

"Eragon," his mother was staring at him at a loss for words and he could see the emotion in her eyes as she stared at him armored and readied for battle, a battle she would not be joining him with.

"I have made my decision mother," said Eragon as he reached out to place a hand on her cheek. "It is not your fault. I could have run if I wanted to before now but I tire of being the coward. It is my choice to fight and I shall not cower."

"But I keep thinking that had I not left Urû'baen—"

He shook his head, silencing her. "In either cases, I would have been at Urû'baen. It is only a matter of sides at that point. I am not afraid, not anymore. I have found what to fight for and I will not relinquish it. Believe in me and let me protect you now."

She had protected him when he grew up in Urû'baen and it was now his turn to protect her. She merely smiled at him, her eyes watering before she nodded. Embracing his mother, he moved onto Ella and gave his baby sister a kiss whispering that he would return to her before long and that she should be good for their parents. Then it was his turn to say goodbye to his father.

"I know that I have no right to say this Eragon," said Brom in a gruff voice, his blue eyes aged. "But you have made me a proud father, you and Murtagh both. I am very glad to have you two as my sons."

He stared at his father and no longer was there any resentment. "Thank you," murmured Eragon as they shared an embrace before he pulled away. "Had you the chance, I know you would have been a good father to me…I want you to know, father, that I am proud to be Eragon." That was as close as he could get to saying that he was proud to be his son but he knew that it was enough for Brom scrunched up his face in grief and happiness as he reached out embrace Eragon once more. They were father and son that were denied a life together and now when they were mending their broken ways, they had to part once more with the uncertainty of reunion upon their heads.

He stayed for but a moment longer but could not bring himself to linger for his resolve would weaken. Instead, he turned and made his way to the north of the camp where the city laid. Breaking free of the camp, he stared up at the ominous city. Their futures laid before them in that prison. He would break it open and free them all.

"Are you ready?" Turning, he caught sight of Arya as she emerged from between two tents.

"No," said Eragon truthfully, "But I will not back down."

"My thoughts exactly," she murmured as she took his hand. They turned back to stare at Urû'baen together. He was not going to bow down to Galbatorix. For so long that city had been his cage and he had broken free only to be forced to return. The only way to completely leave it behind in his past was to kill Galbatorix and Shruikan.

Their future will start there, thought Eragon. It was not the end but the beginning of the end.

**Please anticipate the upcoming chapters everyone! I shall try my best to wow you all! Have fun everyone! Have fun! Hahaha. Anyways, see you all soon! **


	102. Chapter 98

Chapter 98

**Just a little inching along into the fighting. (I believe the final battle will span 4 chapters and one might be a Roran POV because I need some eyes and ears on what happens later). It starts out similarly but will go on to be different I assure you all. Anyways, this is part 1 consider it breaking and entering. I'm going to rack my brains on what to do for the next part. (Standard Disclaimer-Inheritance=CP)Anyways R&R!**

If there was one thing that irked him, it was that Arya had forced him to use a shield for this battle. He had preferred to go and grab a spare sword to replace Vrangr in the battle but she would not have it. After hearing about Galbatorix trying to control magic through the use of the ancient language—something Eragon had yet to disclose to anyone apart from the Eldunarí and a few others—she had immediately went to fetch a shield for him of elven standards proclaiming that he had to take care of his safety. Seeing how worried she looked, he begrudgingly took the shield up. It felt rather useless in his hands and strapped to his arms. He shifted his left arm frowning at the burdensome weight of the shield.

He glanced behind him, the troops were ready and waiting to move. _This was it, _thought Eragon as he stared at the dark city which was cloaked in early morning darkness. He was going to lead the Varden into the charge with Murtagh and Arya following and then bringing up the rear was Oromis. The four of them would be the first wave. Their attack would surprise and disorientate the soldiers guarding the parapets and allow the Varden to scale the walls and close in on the city. Knowing that hundreds of troops as well as more than a handful of magicians were waiting for them, none of the Riders could be spared to open the gates. The task was given to the elves and Islanzadí had assured them that within the first fifteen minutes she would have the gates opened for their forces to march through into the city but she'd also promised more than one entrance into Urû'baen. Though her words had chilled him, he did not protest against them. Not everyone was going to be able to climb the parapets and to rely solely on scaling the walls would be a handicap to their forces.

A preemptive strike would be their only chance of winning. Their forces could not afford starting off the final battle on horrid footing. Taking a deep breath, he glancing down at Saphira not seeing her despite the fact that he was sitting astride her back in her saddle. Earlier, they had armored Saphira for battle and as Eragon had planned they had casted a spell to make them invisible to their foes but he knew that it would not last once they entered the walls of the city. Galbatorix's wards would not allow them to enter the city unseen. If there was one thing the traitor Rider despised, it was letting unknown enemies lurk about. One that cannot be seen is one that was dangerous. However, that did not bother Eragon. All they needed was surprise and that would give them time to fight.

_Eragon, now is the time, _he heard Saphira's voice sound in his head and he nodded.

Reaching up with his gloved hand, he placed his thumb and forefinger into his mouth, pinching the fingers together and blew creating a sharp whistling sound. It would not be heard by the soldiers guarding the parapets but it was loud and clear enough to be heard by the forces of the Varden. He waited and turned to watch the Varden's camp.

A thick column of humans, dwarves, elves, Urgals, and werecats streamed out of the camp. It was amazing to see in of itself how the different races could come together in the face of a common enemy. _When this is all over, it will not bode well for the races to become withdrawn and isolated once more, _murmured Eragon in his thoughts as he shifted on the saddle. He heard Saphira's acceptance but she did not voice anything more than that for her blood was singing with her excitement to be joined with battle. The first wave was not going to last for very long for the moment the four of them attacked, Murtagh and Arya would roundabout to rejoin the forces to help assist their combined armies into Urû'baen. Arya was going to fight alongside her mother while Murtagh was going to assist Nasuada.

Eventually, they were to rejoin Eragon when they forced Galbatorix from the citadel. They were going to need to rejoin for Arya carried the Dauthdaert, the death spear, and they were going to need it to kill Shruikan. When the black dragon emerged, he could not join in with the battle for it would only serve to frighten the soldiers for Shruikan was much larger than Glaedr and acted with a thirst for blood as motivation. However, if his assumption was correct Galbatorix would not join in with the fighting. He was too much of a coward. And in that instance, Eragon was willing to play the game the king had set out for them. He would fly to greet Galbatorix and isolate him from the fighting long enough for his servants to carry out his instructions.

It unnerved him though that everything he'd planned was based on a whim—an assumption of his. He was certain enough in his understanding of Galbatorix and the layout of Urû'baen that he was confident enough to voice his thoughts in his battle strategy but it still made him feel slightly uneasy. _Now is not the time to be uncertain, _he thought to himself as he squinted his eyes to try and keep his sights on the column of soldiers but it was difficult to do so in the flat gray light of early dawn. The column marched across the sloping fields toward Urû'baen, and when the warriors were about half a mile from the city, they divided into three lings. One positioned itself before the front gate, one turned toward the southeastern part of the curtain wall, and one went toward the northwestern part.

The warriors had wrapped rags around their feet and weapons, and they kept their voices to a whisper. His eyes darted to the catapults, ballistae, and siege towers that being moved at a decent pace but not hurriedly to make too much noise. Judging the distance correctly, he brought his hand to his lips once more and blew another whistle which was not as loud as his first but he did not need it to be for he knew that the ones he wanted to hear the whistle had heard it without any sort of difficulties. Rearing on her hind legs, Saphira unfurled her wings and with a beat of her wings took to the air. And though he could not see his companions, he knew they were also airborne due to the stirring in the winds. They had to clear the battlements to prevent their forces from being decimated before they could even enter the city walls.

As they neared the battlements, Eragon took in a deep breath. The battle was about to start in but a few minutes. His eyes darted to where he felt Arya's presence. He knew it upset and worried her that she was going to have to separate from him to fight alongside her mother for the beginning duration of their attack but he was glad that she would be protected while he fought at the front lines. It was a selfish wish of his but he didn't want her caught up in the fighting despite the fact that it was her duty to do so as a Dragon Rider. They had spent a few measly minutes together before they were forced to get about with their preparations but it was something that Eragon had to contend with. After the battle he would make sure to see her and spend the rest of the following day just with her.

That was his wish at least.

_Let the battle begin, _thought Eragon as Saphira dove towards the parapets and then with a swipe of her paw, she swept the soldiers off right from the top, knocking the hot oil that was prepared the night earlier off of the wall as well and tumbling downward into the city. He winced wandering which house that could have landed on and only hope that wherever the oil landed that it did not hurt an innocent. A few hundred yards away, he spotted an invisible force sweeping another battalion of soldiers off of the walls and done to their deaths. A similar occurrence happened to the eastern wall and then on the southern wall, cracks began to erupt in the top surface due to a heavy impact. All about the walls, there was a shimmer in the air before the four dragons were revealed, their scales glittering as they each let loose a torrent of flames, bellowing their presence to the whole of Urû'baen.

_The army is not going to need to sound the horns to alert the army of our presence, _thought Eragon as Saphira continued to sweep the battlements clear.

A horn sounded in Urû'baen, and then another and another, and from what Eragon saw perched on Saphira's back, lights began to appear throughout the city as lanterns were unshuttered and torches lit. The alarm was sounded but it was too late thought Eragon as he turned slightly to glance at the Varden's progress. _Saphira, _Eragon sent to the sapphire dragon. She acknowledged his call and lifted her head to release a terrifying bellow. It was their signal to the Varden.

Above them, the sky lightened as the Varden and their allies gathered in orderly formations at each of the three locations outside of the walls. Inside the city, Galbatorix's soldiers continued to prepare for the assault, but it was obvious thought Eragon that they were panicked and disorganized. How long was Galbatorix going to sit by Eragon did not know. But he knew how to push the king into making an appearance. If there was one thing that Galbatorix did not tolerate, it was mockery.

Three more horns sounded, this time the Varden's. On the third sounding, the dragons took flight in different directions. While Eridor circled about to join the forces at the gate, Thorn turned and went to assist the forces at the southeastern part, while Glaedr took care to aid the elves at the northeastern part. Utter confusion and panic racked the soldiers on the battlements. They cowered easily at the sight of the four dragons and the fact that the Varden had managed to sneak up to the city walls. Eragon smirked slightly as Saphira went airborne hovering in the air for a moment before she climbed the skies to take them away from the battle and out of the range of their enemies and their weapons. Taking this time to study the layout of the troops in the city, he frowned. He did not see Barst anywhere. That blasted commander was no doubt hiding. He was a hunter though Eragon and he did not hunt aggressively. Rather, he could starve and wait for his pray to walk into his trap than give chase into the hunt. That meant that Barst was not a fool. But Eragon smirked, Galbatorix may have Barst as a commander of his troops but he had Bard. It was clear to him who had the better of the two brothers.

Below he heard the great chorus of shouts and cries from the army, and then the Varden's war machines launched their projectiles at the city, archers loosed their arrows, and the ranks of warriors broke and charged toward the seemingly impenetrable curtain wall. To the northwest he heard a loud thud and could only assume that Glaedr had tried to use his strength to break the wall in but it held underneath his force. The wall was too thick for him to be able to break with one hit. He heard a repeated _thud. _That vibrated through the air and then on the seventh _thud, _there was the sound of masonry cracking with a loud split of thunder followed by the rumbles of heavy stone falling to the ground and the shocked cries of the citizens of the city.

_Glaedr has destroyed the northwestern part of the wall, _observed Saphira as they watched as the force there began to pool into the city. Eragon nodded, before lifting his hand and letting out another piercing whistle. They had the advantage and now they had to push forward to keep the momentum going. As soon as his whistle died out the voices of the elves sounded above the noise of the battle, eerie and beautiful as they sang in the ancient language.

_If Galbatorix believes he is safe within his walls, we shall tear them down, _thought Eragon as he continued to listen to the elves as they sang. _And if he continues to rely on his wards and the protection of his citadel then we too shall destroy that until he comes out to face us. The time of cowardice was over Galbatorix. _

Sweeping down to join the fray once more, Saphira flew about the walls clearing them to allow the Varden's soldiers scale the walls and gain control of the parapet. As she flew, Eragon focused his eyes on the walls as the elves continued to sing. From the other side of the wall tower that separated them from Urû'baen's main gate came a sound like a mountain breaking. Fan-shaped jets of water sprayed into the air, and then with a great noise, the wall over the gate shuddered and began to crumble inward.

And still the elves sang.

_Saphira, _Eragon called to her softly as he saw the wall crumble to create an opening into the city. While the elves had worked to create the breach with their magic, Glaedr with some energy from Naegling tore down another opening into Urû'baen. It was as Eragon had planned. He had an inkling that Galbatorix would have spare plans if his first went awry. In such a city as Urû'baen, becoming trapped was easy. And so, he was not going to be the one trapped but he was going to be the one trapping. The three breaches in the walls were placed at strategic points that allowed the columns of soldiers into the city and then they would sweep Galbatorix's forces towards the center, fanning outwards to cover more ground to prevent any sort of pincher formation or encirclement. _Let us land and join the battle. _

_Are you ready? _

_One can only hope, _Eragon sent back as Saphira let forth another bellow before she dived forward folding her wings close to her body. The air soared by his ears as she tore through the sky, her scales glittering brightly. He needed to get them to the center of the city and then draw Galbatorix from the citadel. He felt his heart pound in his chest as Saphira landed in front of the opening that was created. He could see Eridor and Thorn in the midst of the warriors and the Riders on their backs each wearing grim determination.

There was a galloping of hooves against the pavement and Bard, Rosalie, and Desdemona emerged from the warriors moving past the leaders that were also astride their stallions. "My lord!" Bard spoke to him, his face smeared with blood that did not seem to belong to him. On his back was a long object that was wrapped in a silk cloth. "Galbatorix is luring us in!"

He glanced about the streets finding it increasingly desolate and empty. He frowned but he did not pay much heed. If he was luring them in then he would take the bait for he was playing this game in the same pace. He was after all Galbatorix's former pupil. What they were ensuring on both ends was that the other had no form of escape. This would do thought Eragon glancing up at the lightening sky and the rising sun. "Remember what I told you three!" ordered Eragon as he shifted Brisingr in his hand and the shield on his arm. "To the center!"

"Yes, my lord!" rearing his stallion on its hind legs, Bard tore through a side street with Rosalie and Desdemona following. _I trust you three to get it done, _thought Eragon as he watched as they disappeared from view between the alleys. He would play the man's games thought Eragon as he motioned Saphira to move forward through the main street as their forces divided themselves, fanning themselves outwards to cover more ground and leave no route of escape. As she walked forward without any sort of hesitation, he blinked when he heard a horn sound amongst the buildings as they marched deeper and deeper into the city.

There was an eerie atmosphere within the air. The windows were thrown shut haphazardly as if families and citizens did not want to see the battle within the streets of their homes. The streets and alleyways were abandoned and there was not a sound apart from the fighting on the battlements to which Eragon entrusted Finny the job of clearing. There was something else within the air. It unnerved him and yet it was something that he expected. Galbatorix was going to use the city to his advantage. As much as it was built to be protected from an outside an invasion, it was also built to be a tomb. If one did not pay accurate attention to the tide of battle than they could easily find themselves trapped with no escape. It was Galbatorix's mistaken that he had raised Eragon in the city and had instructed him on its defense when he was younger believing that he never would have been strong enough to have left the city walls. That was his own downfall thought Eragon. It was his own confidence that had brought him to where he was at this moment.

_Who would be the victor? The master or the pupil? _

As she continued to march between the buildings, her tail swaying for side to side often times scraping a chunk of the walls from the stone foundations, Eragon kept his eyes open for their enemy. Galbatorix had allowed them to break into his city rather easily meaning that he was once again confident that he could sweep them out just as easily as he allowed them in. He was under the impression that he was the one in control. But it was only momentarily. When Bard and the others carried out his instructions, the tide of battle will be in their favor and it would not doubt take Galbatorix by surprise for he had never given such thoughts to Alagaësia. He had the Eldunarí at his whim as well as the possibility of discovering the true name of the ancient language. The only thing that Eragon had against him was the advantages of surprise or rather the unknown.

_There is an uneasiness in the air, _Saphira said as she continued forward. Eragon nodded as he turned to find Thorn and Eridor several yards behind peering about cautiously. In the air, circling about was Glaedr. He was waiting for the battle to break out to land. His large mass would make it difficult for him to navigate through the buildings and streets of Urû'baen without unintentionally harming innocents or their own forces. He knew that the two of them ached to fight Galbatorix but they were to remain with the main body of the Varden to assist in gaining control of the city while Eragon and the others went to work with Galbatorix.

He was shaken from his thoughts when a horn sounded among the buildings ahead of them. It blared for the better part of a minute, a low, ominous tone that caused the Varden to pause. _Do not falter Saphira, _said Eragon when he felt her hesitation. Doing as he'd said she continued forward despite the caution in her body at the sound of what appeared to be a rallying horn. Whatever it was that laid waiting for them, it was coming. From the side of his eyes, he saw a flash of golden light. It was Bard's signal to him. They were closer to him than he'd thought. That would mean that the center of the city was not far off.

He heard Roran screaming at his battalion to take shelter in the buildings which was no doubt a good bet at the moment seeing as they did not know what it was that they were up against. No daunted, Eragon undid the straps of the saddle and despite Saphira's reluctance he slid to the ground. The horn sounded once more and he heard Nasuada signal the army to a halt.

_Be ready to take flight, _said Eragon as he started forward not daunted by whatever it was that laid before them. He would stand between the enemy and the Varden for he was certain that Galbatorix did not want him killed but rather, he needed Eragon to rebuild the Dragon Riders or rather his twisted view of the order in any case. The horn sounded once more, and the tramp of many feet.

That was when he saw it ahead of him. Rather than dread, a sense of anxiety filled him as he watched as rank after rank of soldiers march into the streets leading from the citadel, the rows of men brisk and orderly, their faces devoid of even the slightest hint of fear. They were confident thought Eragon. They were confident that they were going to win which could only mean that Galbatorix had given them a means of winning. He had seen that type of confidence on Jeremiah and on Faust. He knew and understood it well enough. At their head rode a squat, broad-shouldered man upon a gray charger. He wore a gleaming breastplate that bulged over a foot outward, as if to accommodate a large belly. In his left hand, he carried a shield painted with the device of a crumbling tower upon a bare stone peak. In his right hand, he carried a spiked mace that most men would have found difficult to lift but that he swung back and forth easily.

It was Barst, he recognized the man easily enough all apart from his belly. Barst was never an overly indulgent man and he knew after various occasions meeting the man that he was well built. Taking a look at him, he came to one conclusion and one only. _Eldunarí. _Turning slightly, he caught sight of Arya and Murtagh. His eyes darted to the space behind him and then to Barst hoping they made the connection. They blinked but he could see understanding flooding their eyes. If they removed the Eldunarí from Barst, the fool would be a human with human limitations once more.

As they continued to march, Eragon blinked hearing a chant enter the air. "Lord Barst! Lord Barst! Lord Barst!" The soldiered stamped the ground with their hobnail boots and banged their swords against their shields. Did they not know the difference between a battlefield and a shrine?

"Is this a welcome ceremony?" Eragon called out to Barst as he halted the troops to stare at Eragon with his hard eyes. He swung his mace looking all the world like he wanted to bash the mace into his head but he did not instead he merely continued to examine Eragon as if trying to deduce where it was that he came from.

"Halt!" he called to the soldiers in his company in a deep voice and they did so, their eyes flickering to Eragon. Who did they think was stronger? Eragon or Barst? Eragon inwardly smirked, if he was able to defeat Jeremiah and Faust, Barst was a mere fly in the wind. "His Majesty wishes for you all to surrender for he does not want to have to waste such lives over a needless battle. You cannot win, you must know that. If you and your Riders surrender there may be time for you to grovel for his forgiveness."

If this was an offering Eragon was not in the least bit interested, he was more angered by Barst and his overbearing confidence. "Tell the coward to come out here and face us if he is so confident in his abilities," said Eragon lifting Brisingr. "If not, you are wasting your words!" _Saphira, fly! _With that said, he sprung forward and at the same time he saw Roran's battalion emerge from the side street roaring with him. He heard their cries in the air that consisted of "The Varden!" or "The Riders!" as they charged. Focusing purely on Barst, he ran forward.

For all their confidence, the soldiers cried out in alarm at their charge no doubt believing that Eragon would have taken the offer from Galbatorix. He would decimate his army and when there was no one left to face him, he would have no choice but to fight Eragon or wait until they closed in on his citadel. Whichever one he chose, Eragon was going to leave it up to him. He heard of the howling and war cries about him but he made sure his voice was heard over the rest.

"Leave Barst to me!"

Barst had one Eldunarí but he had a hundred times that number. _Umaroth, _Eragon murmured, _lend me your strength. _

_We shall but use it sparingly for Barst is but a fly compared to the beast that still lay waiting in the citadel, _Umaroth warned him. Beheading all the soldiers in between his path to Barst, Eragon charged forward feeling as if the shield on his arm was useless as he continued to block blow for blow to him, the soldiers eager to sink their blades into his flesh. Eragon had ordered that they treated each and every soldier as if they could not feel pain for they were within Urû'baen. Barst sat upon his charger in the center of the square and as Eragon neared he blinked when he saw Bard emerge from the streets towards the square. A growl left Eragon's lips. Of all the places to be the center of the city, it was also the heart of the fray. Lifting his shield, he shook his head to Bard and sent them a look that told them to momentarily retreat. He slashed Brisingr towards Islanzadí and Arya, both mother and daughter were a force of their own as they fought together one astride a white stallion and the other an emerald dragon. Understanding his meaning, they turned and went to join the two.

Rosalie and Desdemona could only started the etching of the symbol when the tide of battle was not so fierce. If they tried to do so in the thicket of weapons, they would only injure themselves. Loping off the heads of three of the soldiers before him, Eragon ran forward his eyes focused on Barst watching as he swung his mace, faster than any human ought to have been able to. With every blow, he slew at least one of the Varden. Gritting his teeth, Eragon lifted Brisingr murmuring underneath his breath to release a bright blazing ruby light into the air. The time for magic was over. Seeing his signal, he saw a shift in the Varden as the soldiers moved about each other flowing like a mosaic that came together and then broke apart. Rather than offensive, they were now pressing together to close each other's openings now unable to rely on their words or magic. He closed in on Barst watching as arrows fired at him vanished in puffs of sickly orange flame, swords and spears bounced off of him, and even a Kull was not strong enough to knock him from his steed.

_No matter, _running forward he let out a yell as Barst turned to him charging at him with his charger. Stabbing the man in the heart next to him, he grab his corpse as Barst closed in on him, swinging his mace and Eragon was not surprised to see the weapon pass through his wards. Dodging, he threw the corpse as Barst watching as it got caught in the mace and with a swing of Brisingr, he sliced the front legs of his charger causing the horse to pitch forward and throw Barst to the ground. He may be protected with wards and an Eldunarí but he was no match for the strength of a Rider's blade nor Eragon.

Before he could scramble to his feet, Eragon blinked when he heard the sounds of chains clanking from the citadel. Barst was still trying to regain his bearings as he struggled to his feet, his protruding belly making it difficult and his mace hindering his movements. But he was safe from the battle due to his wards. Nothing could touch him apart from a Rider's blade. That would mean…He caught sight of Oromis sliding from Glaedr's back and felt his heart catch in his throat as his master made his way to the struggling Barst.

The clanking of chains continued for a moment followed by a hollowed boom and he turned towards the citadel to find a stone slab on the side come apart to reveal a blazing, eye warped by madness and fury. From where he stood, he could see the pale blue iris. Then large snout appeared from the darkness of the gaping hole in the citadel. The snout continued to show a dragon head and just from the head alone one could tell that Shruikan was even larger than Glaedr. A strong neck followed, and then Shruikan took to the air, every beat of his wings, sounding like a rumble of thunder. The dragon peered down at them with ravenous thirst before releasing a tremendous bellow that shook the air and he watched as soldiers from both sides paused in fear of the sight. He let forth another roar this time releasing a jet of flames, whipping his head back and forth as if he wanted to burn the entire city to the ground. The dragon shifted allowing them to catch sight of the figure on his back and Eragon felt his blood boil as he took in the sight of the king.

Though Eragon could not see his features clearly, he saw the glint of sunlight from his head. Upon his head was a crown of reddish gold set with all manner of jewels. At the sight of their king and his dragon, the soldiers of the Empire were renewed with vigor as they lifted their weapons into the airs, shouting, "Your Majesty!"

Such piety made Eragon want to puke.

Seeing the rampant fear in the soldiers, Eragon fought to be heard, "Do not falter!" he heard Roran, Nasuada, and Murtagh echo his statements. If there was one thing he disliked about human nature, it was how easily they could turn tail and run at the slightest hint of impossibility. He knew it was a weakness but it still left him feeling , humans were unlike the elves, dwarves, Urgals, and werecats all of who stayed and fought no matter how large their opponent. It was because humans were those most susceptible to magic and he did not blame them for their fear of it. Still a small part of him resented it.

Before the fighting could resume, he heard Galbatorix's rich voice fill the air as if he was speaking right before them. "Eragon, it is time we have settled this unpleasant situation," he said as if he was addressing Eragon slowly. "If you do not want me to unleash my wrath on your comrades then I suggest you and your Riders follow me and see to it that you beg for my forgiveness! I shall wait for you but not for long!"

As if to reaffirm his statement, Shruikan let forth another bellowing roar before turning, his wings beating the wind down on them like a storm before he dipped and made to land in the castle beside the citadel. Eragon blinked before he cried out for Saphira. His plan had worked. He had forced Galbatorix from his hiding hole but he was unsure of whether or not that in itself was a good plan for the king was no doubt irritated beyond belief.

"Go Eragon!" Oromis urged as he drew Naegling to face Barst. "We shall handle things here, do not falter!"

"I shall not make you wait for our songs of victory for long," promised Eragon as Barst got to his feet, tugging his mace free from the corpse before him, snarling in anger at his rather shameful descent to the ground. His eyes flickered to Bard, Rosalie, and Desdemona as they fought to the center of the city trying their best to weave in and out of the fighting that had resumed this time, the Empire's soldiers fighting twice as hard as they did last.

Determination was a double edge sword thought Eragon as he heard Saphira swoop down overhead. He reached up with his hand as Saphira snatched him up from the fighting buffeting those in the surrounding areas with torrents of wind. Maneuvering about her leg, he climbed up onto the saddle despite her rumblings for him to stay still as she flew afraid that she might drop him.

_We've managed to make him leave the citadel, _said Eragon but he was not surprised that Galbatorix refused to move too far from the his hiding spot seeing as he hid the Eldunarí there.

_Yes, but he may be even more dangerous now that we've angered him to this extent, _said Saphira as they flew leaving the battle behind them. _We need to tread carefully or else today will be in vain. All of the Riders have been gathered today and we must hold our own or else our freedom shall be all but nonexistent if Galbatorix wins. _

_A terrible thought in of itself, _thought Eragon as he tried to keep his calm. He stared down at Brisingr in his hands, his blade coated with blood. Then his eyes flickered to his shield which was surprisingly unscathed. Veering to the left, Saphira began her descent towards the castle that was side by side with the citadel. He knew the castle well enough and seeing it again made his heart clench. This was where it all began thought Eragon as he stared at the stone walls and the open and yet lifeless windows.

His eyes flickered away from the castle and to his right. Thorn flew by Saphira's side and astride his back was Murtagh, who looked rather grave and though he tried his best to school his features. There was a slight hint of fear in his eyes. Blödhgarm and the others were not with him and that could only mean he had abandoned them. They were no doubt unhappy but they could not hold their own against Galbatorix no matter how strong or experienced they were. Shifting in the saddle, his eyes wandered to Arya. Támerlein was sheathed and in her hands, she held the glowing spear—the Dauthdaert. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips curled downwards as they neared the castle spotting the large mass resting in the large central courtyard that was made specifically to accommodate dragons. Shruikan was already resting as if his earlier appearance was but for mere theatrics.

That would mean that Galbatorix was somewhere down there as well. Arya turned as if sensing his stare and she sent him a look that he understood well enough. She was telling him, in her own way to be careful in the upcoming confrontation. Whatever that laid before them, it was not going to be easy but he had said it before. He was not going to back down. Taking a deep breath, he waited as Saphira dipped forward and he felt a sense of disorientation flash through him thinking of the many times he and Saphira had returned to the castle in such a way. Careful to leave a wide berth between them and Shruikan in the central courtyard, she alighted on the ground with Thorn and Eridor on either side of her. Cautious, Eragon slid down from Saphira's back as Murtagh and Arya followed moving to join him on the ground. He was here somewhere. Barely taking a few steps forwards, he blinked when Galbatorix's rich voice sounded from before them.

"I must admit this is poor welcome on my part, but I thought it would make you feel more at home if I were to come and greet you at your castle Eragon. Do not worry, I have kept it orderly for where would Barst sleep if I did not?" The idea of Barst using his castle made him irritated and it annoyed him that he would even feel irritated for he never liked the castle that Galbatorix bequeathed his mother in the first place. "Where are my manners? Let me welcome your fellow Riders to Urû'baen, Eragon. I have much desired to meet with you Arya—daughter of Islanzadí, Rider to Eridor, and Shadeslayer in your own right—and you as well Murtagh—son of Morzan and Rider of Thorn. Ah, I see you even have your father's sword. Yes, you shall be needing Zar'roc and what better sword that shall be used to serve me. And of course, let us not forget our honored guests. Welcome Glaedr, Umaroth, Valdr, and those others who travel with you unseen. I had long believed them to be dead, and I am most glad to learn otherwise. Welcome, all! We have much to talk about and long have I waited for a meeting of the Dragon Riders to occur once more! Let us begin!"

**Gasp* What is going on? Anyways, I hope you all catch the symbolism behind why fighting Galbatorix does not happen in the citadel but rather in the castle that Eragon grew up in. (It's symbolic to his character and the story.) Apart from that, though I liked the traps and all that involved with the citadel. It doesn't hold any weight in this story because 1) Murtagh does not work for Galbatorix therefore there is no need to hurry into the citadel, 2) I wanted everyone to see Galbatorix even if it was only on Shruikan, and 3) you can't have an epic battle cooped up in some throne room. Anyways that is all. The heart of the battle is two chapters away...so be prepared. Anyways see you all soon. **

**P.S.-I don't know why but the idea of a sequel has become more appealing as the days go by...probably because this story is coming to an end after so many chapters and the 3 year span. **


	103. Chapter 99

Chapter 99

**2nd chapter in the makings. The dialogue is somewhat similar to the Original because it made sense in my belief. And I would have updated this yesterday but for some reason, the heat just made me pass out when I got home. It's been a horrid summer in terms of weather truly. One day it's sunny like it is in the Bahamas and then its raining for a week straight without pause. Really puts me in my writer's muse if you asked me. But yesterday was truly horrible. I went on an errand and had trouble staying awake in my car but then a cool frappe helped me out. Then I just went home and crashed. Anyways, it was much cooler today seeing as I didn't leave the confines of my house (always maintained at a cool 71 degrees). Let's see, Standard Disclaimer, Inheritance=CP. Have fun reading R&R. **

He_ was mocking them. _

The thought rang in his head as he started forward towards where Galbatorix sat on a stone throne that Eragon could not remember being there in the courtyard in the first place. He could sense the fear and apprehension from Murtagh and Arya for they had never before confronted an enemy such as Galbatorix and rather than being frightened for himself, he was afraid for his companions. If his plans went askew and Bard could not awaken Alagaësia, he had practically charged headfirst into death and had dragged his friends, family, and comrades down with him. Everything hinged on how well Eragon knew Galbatorix and how Galbatorix believed he knew Eragon. Taking slow and deliberate steps towards the King, he glanced at the mass that was Shruikan. The black dragon was watching them with its large eyes. Though Shruikan would turn to glance at the three dragons in the large courtyard with him, he did not show any sort of recognition to them.

_He is more dog than dragon now, _said Saphira sadly as they inched forward towards Galbatorix. _All I see in his eyes is hatred. If he can burn down this world then he should do so without any hesitation nor regret. He has not changed since we've last seen him all except for his size. _

That was right, before Eragon and Saphira had left, Shruikan was not as large as he was presently. Magic had been used to alter him and it made Eragon sick to know that Galbatorix treated his dragon as such. Had his original dragon, Jarnunvösk, survived would Galbatorix still turn out this way? It was a curious question in which he did not have the answers to. As they walked towards the king, Eragon took a moment to take in his appearance. He had used magic to alter his appearance and to keep himself within his fourth decade. Another weakness that Galbatorix did not tolerate was appearing old and aged. Upon his head was a crown of reddish gold set with all manners of jewels. On Galbatorix's lap rested his sword. It was a Rider's sword in which the blade, hilt, and crossguard were stark white, while the gem within the pommel was as clear as a mountain spring. The sword as Galbatorix had renamed it was _Vrangr. _

It was different from his sword Vrangr for the one Galbatorix possessed was more along the lines of awry while his Vrangr meant wandering. It was the same name but they served different purposes. While the king's Vrangr symbolized the death of the last Order and his terrible crime of betrayal a century ago, Eragon's Vrangr symbolized his life's wandering, his bond with Arya and Asura, and his connection to Alagaësia. How ironic, thought Eragon as he continued to take step after step towards Galbatorix. Though he did not want to admit that he and Galbatorix shared any similarities, they were the same in some aspects and that disgusted him greatly.

Galbatorix examined them each in turn with his sharp, unblinking gaze. "So, you have come to kill me," he said. "Well then, shall we begin?" He lifted his sword and spread his arms to either side in a welcoming gesture.

While Arya and Murtagh seemed to take caution with his words, Eragon was unmoved. He knew what Galbatorix wanted to accomplish and he was not going to allow the man to do so. One had to remain calm in the face of such an enemy. If there was one thing that was going to be Galbatorix's downfall, it was his confidence that he was the strongest being ever to walk Alagaësia. Eragon was going to prove him wrong. However, until Bard and his servants could carry out his plan they would be merciless to Galbatorix's whim. By the expression on his face, Eragon knew that the king had no doubt achieved his goals. He could only hope his assumption was dead wrong for it would make their situation more precarious than before.

"I must admit Eragon," Galbatorix spoke directly to him as he lowered Vrangr to his lap with a shake of his head, "I had thought you above all this nonsense. To think that you would attack at such a time of day and with the four of you at the forefront as well. Bold indeed, just as I have taught you. Though I must ask, is _this _the extent of your plan? Three Riders and dragons—two of which are barely a year old—to fight me, a spear more suited for hanging on a wall than carrying into battle, and a collection of Eldunarí half out of their minds with age? Tut-tut. I had taught better of you my pupil. You and Arya but it seems as if your emotions have addled with your minds. And you as well, Glaedr I had thought you and Oromis would have stow away for another century until you have gained the courage to face me."

"We still managed to drive you from your hiding hole haven't we?" taunted Eragon as he raised Brisingr bending his knees slightly to charge at the king. He doubted that he would even make it within fifteen feet of Galbatorix however. Always one to feel satisfied when he was correct, he felt no such thing when Galbatorix stood in his imposing manner and shouted a Word. The Word reverberated within Eragon's mind, and every part of his being seemed to thrum in response and he was reminded of the strong feelings he felt when he first spoke with Alagaësia and how insignificant he felt in the face of her presence. Despite the intensity of his response, Eragon was unable to remember the Word; it faded from his mind, leaving behind only the knowledge of its existence and how it had affected him.

Galbatorix uttered words after the first, but none held the same power, and Eragon was too dazed to comprehend their meaning. As the last phrase left the king's lips, a force gripped Eragon, stopping him in mid-stride. He was not surprise as he froze on the stop as if he was about to lunge for the king. His body did not respond to him and the king only left enough leeway for him to breath, look, and speak. His wards should have protected him against Galbatorix's magic and the fact that it didn't meant only one thing. The Word that he spoke was the true name of the ancient language. He had altered the flow of magic thought Eragon as he stood there immobilized and helpless.

_Bard, _Eragon reached out for his servant knowing that Galbatorix was not monitoring their mental connections. He was too paranoid to open up his mind to them. If anything, the man would ensure that there would never be a connection between their minds and his. He found his servant's mind and waited until Bard allowed their thoughts to touch if slightly. _How goes the battle? _

There was a pause in which he saw an image of the fighting and the blood that seemed to drench the streets. _Just as you had warned my lord, magic is failing us, _answered Bard in frustration as he killed three soldiers with his sword. _We are trying to clear the center but it is nigh impossible for the soldiers keep pushing back and forth from both sides. Desdemona and Rosalie are trying to fend for themselves at the moment. _

_And Barst? _

At the thought of his brother, his thoughts darkened and another image flashed before his mind to show Oromis fighting Barst, Naegling striking at the mace the man held, denting the weapon blow for blow. _Oromis is holding his ground but I fear that his illness might get the better of him._

_You must hurry Bard, if need be get Finny to help clear a path, _said Eragon as he withdrew his mind from Bard's to turn to Galbatorix, who was staring down at them with a look of pure victory. He thought he'd won but he had yet to see what Eragon had waiting for him. All it took was time. If they could hold out until Bard and his servants could secure the center than the tide of battle would be theirs. Now, however, they were at his mercy. His eyes darted to Murtagh and Arya and he could see their frustrations at being easily bounded in place. Behind them, he heard the glowering of Thorn and knew without looking that the dragons were similarly frozen.

Feeling Umaroth, the Eldunarí, and Glaedr merge their minds to fight Galbatorix Eragon hastily called out to them but it was too late as their minds were thrown at Galbatorix and immediately they were opposed by a vast number of minds—all of which were the crazed thoughts of the Eldunarí controlled by the black king. They crooned and babbled and shrieked in a mad, disjointed chorus that contained a great degree of pain and sorrow that it made Eragon want to cringe. He saw Arya's furrowed brows and Murtagh's scrunched up expression as they tried to keep the multitude of minds at bay.

_You must pull back, _warned Eragon to Umaroth. They could not win against the Eldunarí that Galbatorix had under his whim. They were large and powerful, much so before they were killed during the fall. And there were many that Galbatorix controlled, far more than the Riders had hidden in the Vault of Souls. They were not going to win on their own, Eragon knew that hard fact and he needed the dragons to acknowledge it as well. For the moment, they could not fight against him with his knowledge of the true name of the ancient language.

_Bard, you must hurry. _

Eventually heeding his warning, they pulled their thoughts back guarding their minds once more from the king who was unaffected by their attack earlier. Instead, he reached out with his hand and motioned from some invisible guest to join them. "Come out, my dears, and meet our guests."

A boy and a girl emerged from behind Shruikan's large mass. They moved, with the young girl clutching onto the older boy's hand, to stand by Galbatorix's right hand. The girl appeared to be about six while the boy looked older, perhaps eight or nine. Their eyes flickered to Shruikan every once and a while and they sometimes stared fearfully at Eragon and his companions. They shared a close resemblance, and Eragon could only assume that they were brother and sister. Both were dressed in their night garments. The girl clung to the boy's arm and half hid behind him, while the boy appeared frightened but determined. From where he stood, he could feel their terror and confusion and he knew then that they were not mere illusions but they were indeed real. Staring at the frightened children, he was reminded of Faust and his demented ways and wanted to lash out at Galbatorix. The man was worst than a coward. For a king who held dearly to his pride, he had tossed it to the ground when he introduced children to their battle.

"Isn't she charming?" asked Galbatorix, lifting the girl's chin with one long finger. "Such large eyes and such pretty hair. And isn't he a handsome young lad?" He put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Children, it is said are a blessing to us all. I do not happen to share that belief. It has been my experience that children are every bit as vindictive and cruel as adults. They only lack the strength to subjugate others to their will. You are a fine example of that Eragon. When I gave you the strength you killed your tormentors in your rage. No one is as pure as they make themselves out to be, not even children."

Eragon frowned his lips thinning. He knew well enough that he was cruel and vindictive but that was only because Galbatorix had pushed him to such lengths. Children were a blessing not just bargaining tools to be used and waved about. "Perhaps you agree with me, perhaps you don't. Regardless of that, I know that you of the Varden pride yourselves on your virtue. You see yourselves as upholders of justice, defenders of the innocent—as if any are truly innocent—and as noble warriors fighting to right an ancient wrong. Very well, then; let us test your convictions and see if you are what you claim to be. If you dare attack me again, I shall kill them," Galbatorix's eyes flickered to Eragon's as he lightly patted the pale boy's shoulder as if he was praising him of some well accomplished deed, "In fact, if you displease me excessively, I shall kill them anyway, so I advise you to be courteous." Eragon's eyes flickered to the boy and girl who both appeared sick and frightened but they dared not to flee.

Reminded of the time he spent as a prisoner to Galbatorix, he dared not move to anger the king at the moment. He did not want to see another corpse that belonged to a child. Faust had already done his task there by carrying out his experiments on innocent orphans. He was not going to provoke Galbatorix…not yet anyhow.

However, if push came to shove there was no other way for them but to sacrifice the lives of two innocent children. The whole of Alagaësia was waiting for them and yet they could not put everything on hold for the boy and girl. They would save them if they could Eragon could feel that sentiment in the minds of his companions but they were also unable to deny the fact that they may not be able to save the children in face of killing Galbatorix. But Eragon was of a different thought. He would not sacrifice the two children. He was not going to build a future on the sacrifice of innocents. He was going to save them, one way or another.

When none of them made to attack him or speak out against him, he smiled pleasantly as he resumed his seat, "There, that's better. Now we may speak as civilized beings, without worrying about who is trying to kill whom." _That is what you believe, _thought Eragon with hard eyes as he gazed at the king. He patted the boy on the head and then pointed towards a bench off to the side but not far enough to be considered out of reach from where Galbatorix sat, "Sit." Without arguing, the two children settled on the stone bench, sitting as far from the king as they could get. Eragon did not fault them. They were weak and defenseless against Galbatorix and were only instinctively seeking a form of escape, despite how temporary it was. Raising his hand towards them, he motioned for them to come forward, another taunt on his part. Then when they made no move to step any closer, his smile widened, "Kausta," and they slid forward until they were but mere yards from him. It was like how Galbatorix had controlled him when they were fighting in Gil'ead. Despite being in Jeremiah's body, he used his magic effectively and nearly bested Eragon had it not been for his blades that rebelled against him.

Marionettes. That was what they were for the meantime.

It was unsettling, thought Eragon as Galbatorix peered from face to face with a great deal of interest, at how the Word could change the meaning of magic. Everything he had learned, all the trials that he'd gone through for this moment seemed useless if Galbatorix could easily overcome their combined might. In the end, he had to rely on the help of others to defeat his enemy. How frustrating. If he could, his grip on the pommel of Brisingr would have tightened but as he was frozen, he could do no more than to stare at Galbatorix.

He watched as the king's gaze settled on Murtagh with a great deal of interest. "Ah, Murtagh, the son of Morzan. It is indeed a great pleasure to see the son of one of my most loyal vassals standing before me. My, my, my, you are indeed your father's son," his eyes flickered to Zar'roc and Thorn, "I almost feel as if I am staring at Morzan myself. However, you have matching eyes while his were mismatched. I have done your father a great disservice by not raising you in my court," he frowned ever so slightly, "You and I should have met long ago. Had that meddlesome fool, Brom, not have taken you from the estates when he killed your father and taken you with him to Carvahall. You would have grown up here, in Urû'baen, as a child of the nobility, with all the riches and responsibilities that entails, instead of whiling away your days grubbing the dirt. Be that as it may, you are here now, and those things shall at last be yours. They are your birthright, your inheritance, and I shall see to it that you receive them."

Eragon fought the urge to snort. He had lived the life that Galbatorix described and he knew that Murtagh desired no such things. If he could go back in time and choose between the two options before him, he would undoubtedly want to be raised up in Carvahall once more with his family and his freedom rather than be imprisoned in such a place as this. The one with the better life between Eragon and Murtagh was obvious.

"I am not my father," said Murtagh with a clenched jaw. "I shall never serve you."

A thin smile appeared on the king's face, "Never? We shall see if your words hold any truth once I am done with you." His gaze shifted to Thorn, "Ah, it is good to see you Thorn. After having lost you to that fool nearly three decades ago, I was worried about your safety but I see that you have hatched and grown well. And now you stand before me, just like the Morzan's dragon did once before. You and Murtagh shall become formidable under me and I can only wonder as to how you shall serve me once you have given me your oaths of loyalty."

The only response was a low growl from Thorn but apart from that the ruby dragon spoke no more apparently seeing no need to continued any type of disillusioned talks with Galbatorix. The king moved on. "Arya Dröttningu. Fate it seems, has a sense of humor, for here you are. Though I gave you to Eragon to do as he pleases, it seems as if you did not mind my actions. I would even go as far as to say that it was because of my careless mistake that we are here today. However, since it has brought you and Murtagh here as well as Eragon, it was well played on my part."

Galbatorix chuckled, "I must admit you have been a thorn in my side for quite some time now. You've not caused as much mischief as that fool Brom, but neither have you been idle. It was a mistake to give you to Eragon for you have moved him enough to allow you to escape with Murtagh, Thorn, and Eridor. Within time, your presence has stolen me my faithful servant. I was very displeased. However, I hold no enmity toward you. If not for you, Thorn might not have hatched, Eridor would be without a Rider, and I might never have been able to flush the last of my enemies from hiding. For that I thank you."

_Poor thanks such as this is but a mere mockery. _

"And then there is you Eridor, as proud of a dragon as your Rider," Galbatorix smiled, "I have heard that you and Saphira are mates and I must say, I do wish to congratulate the two of you for finding each other. Though it is a hard not to since there is so little left of the dragons now," at his words there was an audible hiss from the three dragons while Shruikan merely blinked lazily. Despite his lax attitude, Eragon knew that the black dragon would rather eat them all for a large meal rather than sit about and listen to Galbatorix's smug and idle chatter. "Do not worry Saphira, Eridor. Once this battle is done and I have your oaths, I shall make your home here much more comfortable. This is where you both belong. And it is where you will build your nest and lay your eggs."

_He is mad to believe that we will merely mate and nest together for his satisfaction, _said Eridor darkly while Saphira showed her agreement in her quiet snarl.

_I will not subject my eggs to his pettiness, _she said within Eragon's mind.

His eyes returned to Eragon and he raised a brow as if unable to decide how to address him. "It is good to see you in person again Eragon," he smiled slightly, "We had our disagreements in Gil'ead but I believe we were sorely interrupted. It seems that you are one sword less," he glanced at Eragon his eyes flickering to his back which lacked the presence of Vrangr. "Where is Vrangr? Have you lost your sword already?" As if he would ever tell the king where his sword had gone else he would suspect one thing after another and then Bard would be hard pressed to carry out his instructions. The king tapped the pommel of his glaringly white sword. "I took this blade from Vrael, Umaroth's Rider when I killed him in the watchtower that overlooks Palancar Valley. Vrael had his own name for his sword. He called it, Islingr, 'Light-bringer.' I thought Vrangr was more…appropriate. It seems that you Eragon also share the same sentiments as I do. Though I do not very much like the name Brisingr for the sword you carry on your hip, I do approve of Vrangr. Very fitting, they say that every pupil looks up to their master. I believe it holds truth in this case."

He tapped the pommel of Vrangr once more as if in deep contemplation. Eragon would not let himself become baited by Galbatorix's words. He knew that they shared the same names for their swords but he named Vrangr as it was in any case because it was different from how Galbatorix renamed Islingr. While his Vrangr was the epitome of death despite its startling white, Eragon's was the symbolism in wandering. Brisingr and Vrangr. Islingr and Vrangr. How ironic indeed.

"I will speak about your punishment after I have finished greeting and speaking with our honored guests Eragon," said Galbatorix his tone disapproving as if he was speaking down to a child, "Not only have you brought Alagaësia to such a state but you have brought me great dishonor and you have failed to prepare your castle to greet them. Such ill mannerism. For shame Eragon."

He wanted to bite back at Galbatorix for his taunt but he felt Arya's warning emotions within him and stopped. Galbatorix's words seemed to distress her slightly. The word _punishment _had several meanings when it came to Galbatorix and Eragon was sure that he was not going to be spared this time.

Galbatorix paused and fingered the wire-wrapped hilt of his sword while he regarded them with a hooded gaze. Then he looked past them toward the point in the air where the Eldunarí floated hidden from sighed, and his mood seemed to darken, "Convey my words to Umaroth as I speak them," he said. "Umaroth! We are ill met once again. I thought I killed you on Vroengard."

Umaroth responded, and Murtagh began to relay his words. "He says—"

"—that you killed on his body," Arya finished.

"That much is obvious," said Galbatorix. "Where did the Riders hide you and those with you? On Vroengard? Or was it elsewhere? My servants and I searched the ruins of Doru Araeba closely."

So those black cloaked people were his servants? Was that a possibility thought Eragon as he stood there trying to process his information. Suddenly, he heard a great _thud _coming from the center of the city followed by a cheer. Who was cheering? What was going on? There was another cheer but he did not know why that was. He was tempted to reach out to Bard but was afraid that he would distract his servant seeing as the sounds of the battle sounded fierce and great. He could only pray that Oromis and the others were faring well.

Attention returning to the conversation before him, he blinked as his listened to Arya's words as she spoke the words that Umaroth said back to Galbatorix, "He says…that he will never share that information with you of his own free will."

Galbatorix's eyebrows met above his nose. "Does he now? Well, he'll tell me soon enough, whether he wishes to or not."

He heard Murtagh struggle futility against his invisible bounds, "How is it you can do this?" he growled in his frustration not used to being helpless against Galbatorix.

To answer his words, Galbatorix turned his head to Eragon in surprise, "You have not told your comrades what it is that they are facing when they marched to Urû'baen?" Eragon pressed his lips together before he spoke, slowly and deliberately careful not to let his lack of eloquence anger the king for fear of the children's safety.

"I have told them that you may have found a way to control the flow of magic but I have not said how," said Eragon watching as an amused smile lit Galbatorix's lips.

"You have cursed your loved ones and companions to death due to your secrecy for if they knew what I have learned, they would not have foolishly decided to challenge me," Eragon bristled where he stood and suddenly, he felt guilty when he listened to his words and how convincing they could be.

_He is wrong Eragon, _Arya murmured reassuring in his mind. _We would have marched on Urû'baen even with the knowledge of what it is he is doing to us. Do not falter. Never falter. _

He leaned back in his stone throne, observing them as he would an entertaining play, "If you prefer an answer than I shall give it to you seeing how your comrade has sought not to speak. It has taken me most of the past century, but at long last I have found what I was searching for: a means of governing the spellcasters of Alagaësia. The search was not easy; more men would have given up in frustration or, if they had the required patience, fear. But not I. I persisted. And through my study, I discovered what I had for so long desired: a tablet written in another land and another age, by the hands of neither elf nor dwarf nor human nor Urgal. And upon that tablet, there was scribed a certain Word—a name that magicians throughout the ages have hunted for with nothing but disappointment as their reward." Galbatorix lifted a finger. "The name of all names. The name of the ancient language."

He heard Murtagh curse in his head and fought to keep his expression passive. _That's what the Ra'zac was trying to tell me, _he said to them as if it explained everything. Not following, Eragon kept his eyes forward as Galbatorix went to judge Arya's and Murtagh's expression as if taking great pleasure in their knowing despair.

But they still held out hope. Alagaësia…It was the only way left for them to defeat Galbatorix. It was well know by all magicians and spellcasters that the ancient language provided a medium for the use of magic. But one could always perform magic without speaking a word of the ancient language. It was dangerous and unprecedented however, for if they could not control the flow of magic one could end up killing themselves by using a simple spell like when lighting a fire.

Galbatorix continued, "With this Word, I can reshape spells as easily as another magician might command the elements. All spells shall be subject to me, but I am subject to none, except for those of my choosing."

That was what he believed. Eragon thought of Alagaësia and how She control the flow of history and the flow of magic within Alagaësia and within her children. All magic within the dragon, their ancient and their learned, stemmed from her. Galbatorix believed that his control of the ancient language would put him above magic but not when he was facing someone with a might even greater than his. He can only wait to see how Galbatorix would react to Galbatorix.

_May fortune be with you child. Let us fight for this world. _

Her words rang forth in his mind and determination welled within Eragon. The king continued oblivious to the growing change in Eragon, "I shall use the name of names to bring every magician in Alagaësia to hell, and no one shall cast a spell but with my blessing, not even the elves. It is surprising though that your army is coping so well under such circumstances, I had believed that they would mindlessly use magic until they realized the error of their ways. You have made them cautious indeed Eragon. However, that will not last long for them may not use magic but that does not mean my own men are restricted by the change in the ancient language. Within but a few moments, your army will be battered and beaten and surrender shall be your only choice."

"It doesn't matter," Murtagh growled. "We'll still find a way to stop you."

His half-brother's words only served to amuse the king even further, "Is that so? How? And why? Think what you are saying. You would stop the first opportunity that Alagaësia has had for true peace in order to sate your over-developed sense of vengeance? You would allow magicians everywhere to continue to have their way, regardless of the harm they cause others? That seems far worse than anything I have done. But this is idle speculation. The finest warriors of the Riders could not defeat me, and you are far from their equal. You never had any hope of overthrowing me. None of you did. Not even Oromis for his is the Cripple Who is Whole, useless in his condition and age."

There was a flare of anger amongst them as they heard such degrading words of their teacher. Understanding that he seemed to have touched a nerve, Galbatorix smiled as he leaned on one elbow and rested his chin on his fist while he continued to watch them. Eragon blinked as he heard the soft cries of the boy and girl as they held each other on the bench, deathly afraid of what was to become of their fate.

After a minute of silence amongst them, Galbatorix straightened in his seat, shifting Vrangr on his lap. "Let it be known that today you have not come to kill me nor unseat me from my throne. No, today you have come to pledge your service to me, nor shall you leave until I have learned the true name of each and every one of you. _That is why you are here. _You shall bow down before me and finally put an end to this noisome rebellion."

He stood and stared down at Eragon with hard eyes, "First, however, you must face your transgressions Eragon. I was unable to punish you back at Gil'ead but it is fitting that I shall do it here when you have clung so desperately to your hopes and your desire for freedom. I had said that I would punish Arya but the more I thought of her accomplishments, I believe that you are more at fault than she. It is not her fault that she is enticing, it is your fault that you allow yourself to be captivated. And had I not said it before? Men tempted by women are weak, and weak men harbor weak hearts," he smiled cruelly, "However, I am not heartless. Once I am done with you Eragon I shall allow you and Arya to continue your union under me. But you must face the consequences of your actions, what king will I be if I overlook your actions?"

He stepped towards Eragon, then he turned to the others, "Gánga aptr," his companions slid backward, leaving Eragon standing alone in a wide space with just Galbatorix. "You shall be the first to pledge your loyalty to me Eragon after so many years of letting you run about without needing to. It was another mistake of mine to believe that parting your soul would have been enough to keep you in line." He sheathed Vrangr and then took Brisingr from Eragon's hands and tossed his sword to the side. "You shall not be needing that for the moment." He turned back to Arya, his cold expression taking on a hint of amusement. "Now watch Arya Dröttningu what you have caused him. And watch closely as well Murtagh as your half-brother is punished by letting you roam free."

He turned back to Eragon, "Letta," said Galbatorix with a slight motion of his hand. The bonds holding him vanished. Before he could even straighten himself, he blinked in pain when he was forced to the ground as the pommel of Vrangr slammed into his chest knocking the breath out of him. Even now, Galbatorix was making a mockery out of him before his loved ones.

Making to get to his feet and retaliate, he blinked when the young girl cried out in pain and turned to see that she was bleeding slightly from her left hand. He caught Arya's and Murtagh's distressed looks. _Endure. _All he had to do was endure for a little longer thought Eragon as Galbatorix continued to thoroughly show him how disrespect and traitors were dealt with. Even his armor could not lighten the blows. It was impossible to think how one connection from his fists, feet, legs, and arms felt as if a dragon's blow. By the time he was satisfied, Eragon was on the ground panting as he bled from various cuts on his face and body. A steady stream of blood was trickling from his lips and he was about to get up but Galbatorix spoke once more in the ancient language and he found himself falling against the ground unable to move.

_Eragon, we are here do not forget that, _he heard Arya's whispers in his mind and it gave him strength until he felt Galbatorix crouch beside him. He blinked as his head turned to find Galbatorix hovering over him, holding in his hands a small box decorated with lines of carved horns that formed glyphs in the ancient language. "Regular tortures will not merely be enough to show how displeased I am with you Eragon," said Galbatorix, "You could have taken concubines and be done with your desires and yet, you go traipsing about Alagaësia without my commands. You let two Riders run amuck with the Varden. You helped to conquer my cities and you killed Durza, Jeremiah, and Faust my loyal servants. And so you must be dealt with in a manner far worse than what I have subjected you to in the past."

With the pad of his thumb, Galbatorix pushed open the box's sliding lid. Then he reached inside and pulled out a large, ivory-colored maggot that continued to release shrieking noises that sounded like _skree-skree._ He knew that sound. He had encountered such a creature on Vroengard. "I believe you may have come across this creature during your travels Eragon though you may not know what it is. It is a burrow grub. It is not what it appears to be. Few things are, but in the case of the burrow grubs, that is all the more true. Your transgressions are severe Eragon. Traitors are executed but since I shall not give you death as a punishment this shall have to do."

He dropped the burrow grub on his armored chest and Eragon watched in horror as the burrow grub squalled. _Do not panic, _Umaroth told him in his mind. _He does not mean to kill you. That is our only comfort in this situation. _

It was not very assuring but it was the best Eragon could accept at the moment. _Bard, if we make it out of this alive. I shall have your head for making me wait for so long. _He watched as the burrow grub wiggled beneath his armor and a minute passed before his body convulsed in great pains, it was so great he felt his world spin about him. He refused to cry out for mercy even though he felt the burrow grub within him, chewing on him like it had chewed alive the deer that he had stepped on in Vroengard. He heard a wail from the center of the city and did not know what it was that caused it but there was a spark of anger from Glaedr and he could only assume the worst. _Oromis…_

His vision flickered and he saw Arya trying to control her expression despite the immense pain she felt at his own tortures. He saw Murtagh's desperation and hatred. He felt Saphira's burning desire to rip Galbatorix to shred. Eridor was trying his best to not snap at Galbatorix and Thorn's scales were on end. But what made Eragon furious beyond belief was the mocking laughter her heard from Galbatorix as the king stood over him watching as he squirmed on the ground despite his invisible bonds to the pain that crippled him. He wasn't going to break. Not yet.

_Eragon, hold on just a little longer, _Saphira said to him as he clawed at his armor trying to reach the burrow grubs. _Bard, Desdemona, and Rosalie are working on it now. They are preparing for the awakening. _

He could only acknowledge her words for his senses felt dull to himself. Despite the haze of pain, some distance away, he heard the faint lilting sound of a hymn.

**I said I might do a Roran POV but I scratched the thought. I'm not really in tune with his character seeing as I really pay Roran any attention (though I believe the things he does is rather incredible). I just don't think I can write Roran well enough. But the next chapter is going to be at a different POV which I believe you all might enjoy. And cue the suspenseful music cause things are going to get messy...Anyways, let's hope the heat doesn't knock me out tomorrow. I'll see you all soon. **


	104. Chapter 100

Chapter 100

**Chapter 3 of 4 detailing the final battle. Like I said in the last chapter, I wasn't going to do a Roran POV because I did not know his character well enough. Instead, I decided to do a Bard POV and show how his determination to carry out Eragon's orders and help the Varden leads him to taking several actions. I made this chapter long because well, I just wanted to make it long. There are new elements that have been introduced here and when reading you can all chance a guess but it shall be explained in the chapter after the battle. (Standard Disclaimer: Inheritance=CP) Anyways R&R! **

"Back! Back!" roared Bard feeling the adrenaline of the battle coursed through him. He was shouting at the soldiers near him, trying to pull them back from the crowded fighting in the streets as a wall of the building before them went tumbling to the ground as a stone rock launched from a catapult collided with the frame. But it was too late for half of their forces was swept underneath the stone masonry and crushed to death. _Enoch, back! _He ordered his noble stallion that Desdemona had raised when it was but a mere babe in Urû'baen. The black stallion whinnied and moved back according to his commands. His right hand wrapped tightly about the leather reins, he turned his head every which way. A way to the center. They needed a way to the center.

Seeing a side alley that was not yet occupied with battle, he turned to his companions who were riding beside Queen Islanzadí. Lifting his sword, he hailed them watching as Rosalie gestured to Desdemona. Catching their attention, he gently prodded Enoch in the side with his heels and turned the horse towards the alleyway. _Go! _Rearing on his hind legs, Enoch galloped forward into the alleyway with Rosalie and Desdemona directly behind him.

_Bard, _it was Rosalie's voice in his head, _we need to hurry. The battle will turn against us if we let it drag out. Remember what his lordship warned us about. _

He gritted his teeth. Of course he remembered. He was not one to forget easily. He used to be a strategic adviser for the army, it was a position that would not allow for him to forget useful information. They were warned against letting the battle drag out and turn into a battle of attrition. Leaning low against the saddle, they continued through the alleyway making sure to duck and dodge the arrows and javelins that flew down on them. _Finny, what on earth are you doing? _Their friend should have been on the parapet by now clearing the battlements of soldiers.

_Our magic is failing us, _said Desdemona her voice quiet in his mind. He could feel her emotions and how cautious she was of the battle about them. Their wards had failed them and had they not been trained by Lord Eragon, they would have been torn to shreds by swords and halberds. _Not to mention your brother Barst is making it a mission of his to batter our forces. _

They turned a corner, ducking underneath a fallen column that collapsed from one building and falling low onto the other one. At the mention of his brother, he felt a sudden rage fill through him. They were once more on the battlefield together but they were fighting for different things. He wanted peace, the one that his lord envisioned while Barst wanted the falsity of peace underneath Galbatorix. His eyes darted to an opening in the left wall and he saw Barst struggling to win against Oromis. The elf despite his aged nature and disabilities was holding his ground rather well. Every blow that was struck, he struck back but there was a limit, Bard knew, to his powers.

And his brother…His jaw clenched. His brother could not use magic. It was a envy that he had harbored for Bard when they were younger. While Barst was the older brother, he was not the more intelligent one. It was Bard who had inherited a keen sense of strategy and purpose as well as a talent for magic. His older brother was more in tune with strength and power not cunningness and strategies. Despite their difference when the two of them were old enough, they were enlisted into the army and Bard began to climb the ranks while it took Barst a few extra years to follow behind. Eventually, he'd abandoned the Royal Army and instead took up post under Lord Eragon. His magic was no longer used to kill others but rather to just cook. There was a sense of peace and calm that came with the occupation that did not last long. He had lost contact with his older brother then and made no move to seek Barst out seeing as the man was having his share of joy ripping people apart from the neck.

They were inherently different despite being brothers and here they were fighting against each other for a world that they believed in. _Oromis will not be able to hold out, _said Rosalie as an image of Barst and Oromis fighting flashed before his eyes. _It is obvious that Galbatorix has given him an Eldunarí. _

_Yes I know, _his hand on the reins tightened as he thought of the protruding foot long belly that Barst's armor was wrapped about. They had to destroy that Eldunarí. The moment it was gone, his brother was going to be a normal human once more with all the limitations that humans possessed. Overhead, they heard Glaedr's loud bellow. The golden dragon was anxious to join the battle with his Rider but he could not for he was too large and the moment he landed amongst the buildings, it would be impossible to guard him with the battle so widespread. Roran, Bard knew, was trying his best to keep order amongst his battalion. The man was no doubt proven himself a blood relation to Murtagh and Lord Eragon for he possessed unerring strength and intelligence.

_There an opening! _

The three of them rode towards the opening at the end of the alleyway. His grip on his sword tightened. They were about to emerge into the midst of battle. Taking in a deep breath, he turned back to share a glance with Rosalie and Desdemona. They were vulnerable now without their wards and magic but their expressions were one of fierce determination. If they did not carry out their lord's plans, the battle was lost to them. Moral as it was, was at a low amongst the soldiers. The only ones capable it seemed of pushing back at the Empire's soldiers were the Urgals and the elves. But they too were susceptible to death.

_We won't die, _said Desdemona and for once her voice was soft and comforting. Usually, she was always scolding or reprimanding either him of Finny or both, the latter being the more usual of occurrences. _Not yet Bard. We still have to carry out his lordship's instructions. _

_Yes, _agreed Rosalie. In that moment, there was a fierce comradeship between them. Four people with not history or past together had come together to serve under one man. And ever since, they had learned more of the world than they could ever imagine. He felt his heart pound in his chest at the thought of dying together with his friends—no, his family. Ever since he'd come to serve under Lord Eragon, he had not come across a personal death for several years. And now there was a possibility that they would not survive. He might not see Rosalie worrying over Lady Selena anymore. Desdemona may not scold him. He and Finny might not be able to fool around anymore. His lordship might not command them about after the battle. Or he won't be able to cook for Saphira. _Damn, I wish I had cooked one last dinner, _thought Bard morbidly as he felt his eyes sting.

As they rode out into the opening, he bite back a cry at the sight of the battle before them. There was no sense of direction at the forefront of the lines. Nasuada commanded at the rear protected by the elves and Urgals for they could not let their commander die in battle. It was at the rear that there was more order while at the front it was an all out massacre. It was a struggle for survival. Life and death hanged within the balance, they were threads that could easily be cut at the slightest moment.

_It probably would have be poisonous, _Bard thought as his blood pumped with adrenaline. _My cooking is never good when I'm nervous._ Enoch did not hesitate nor turn about at the sight of the battle and the smell of blood. Instead, the black stallion tossed its head and pawed at the ground with its hooves as if anxious to do something. Behind him, Rosalie and Desdemona were glancing about their surroundings trying to find a landmark that would be able to tell them where it was that they were.

Off in the distance, he spotted their lord's castle—the direction in which the dragons had flown off towards. His lordship had contacted him only once during the battle and had yet to do so again. The saying that no news was good news did not apply here. They were worried for his lordship but they had to push that thought aside as they battle grew to a furious clamor about them. Overhead a group of werecats ran along the rooftops before jumping down onto a group of soldiers and slicing their heads cleanly off of their necks.

_The center Bard! Focus! _

_Right, of course, _he turned and searched for the center courtyard directly in the middle of the city. Having living in Urû'baen for quite some time, they knew exactly where the center was and it was there that the heart of the fray resided for the soldiers continuously poured out from deep within the city to meet the Varden as they struggled to hold the center as was commanded.

A shout drew his attention and he turned to see a group of soldiers screaming as they ran towards them, ready to toss them from their steeds but Rosalie was too fast for she drew that bow that the elves had armed her with and notched three arrows releasing them with deadly accuracy. Three of the soldiers in the front fell to the ground dead, an arrow pierced straight through the heart causing their companions to stumble about their bodies but they too fell to the ground lifeless but seconds afterwards as Rosalie finished them off.

_Bard, _it was Desdemona that spoke, _We must hurry! _

Nodding, he tugged on Enoch's reins. _Just a little farther and we'll have no choice but to run on foot. _Spurring the black stallion, forward, he held his sword at the ready cutting down each and every opponent in his way to clear a path through the streets and towards the center courtyard where the battle was brutal. Their steeds were raised and trained well for they did not falter despite the dangers that laid before them. For each enemy that he could not reach, Rosalie dispatched with her arrows and when she ran out, she simply leaned over the saddle and swooped down to grab a full quiver from the body of a lifeless archer.

They rode forward, the only three having a sense of direction amidst the chaos. As he rode, he made sure to yell words of encouragement. They could not let the center fall. If it fell, carrying out the plan would be impossible. They could not be pushed back. Ignoring the arrows that rained down on them, he grabbed a shield that protruded from a small pile of bodies and covered himself with it. The metal shield caused the arrows to bounce off before they could reach their intended targets.

There was a slight cry to his left and he turned to find Desdemona hunching slightly on her saddle, gripping her left upper arm in which an arrow protruded. _Desdemona, _he was about to stop but she shook her head and with a steady hand broke the shaft of the arrow and tugged it out throwing it to the ground. Then she pulled from the bags a cloth and began to tie it one handed about her injury.

_We have no time to waste, this wound will not kill me Bard, _she reassured him grim faced. Worried but yet knowing that they could not continue to falter, he pushed forward. Lopping the head of three soldiers in his way. Maneuvering about the battle, Barst narrowed his eyes at the sight of the courtyard a mess of red tunics, the Varden's men, elves, Urgals, and dwarves. They were trying their best to hold their ground but he could see as slight change of momentum. The preemptive that Lord Eragon had arranged for them was slowly slipping from their grasps. They were being overwhelmed at the center. Another bellow tore through the air and he could sense Glaedr's desire to join in with the battle. But it was too dangerous for wards no longer worked. If he came too close, thousands of arrows and javelins would tear him from the air.

The triangle formation that they were trying to maintain was falling to pieces and it was all because of his brother. As he rode towards the center, he paused at the immense fighting. _It would be impossible to try and etch the circle onto the ground._ It was too crowded and soldiers continued to pour outwards to meet the Varden's frontlines. There has to be a way. Something—anything! Suddenly, he felt an energetic mind meet his and recognized that it was indeed Finny speaking to him.

_Bard, I have secured the battlements and I've managed to take control of the catapults on the eastern battlements, _his eyes darted to the eastern wall, the wall closest to the center of the city. Their lordship had instructed that if nothing else, they had to maintain a tight hold on the eastern wall. _How is your position? _

_Badly, _answered Bard as he kicked an incoming soldier in the head, crushing his skull as he did so. _We cannot get near the center. There is too many soldiers. Too many for us to push back without killing ourselves. At this rate, our army will be decimated. _

Finny was quiet for a moment and then when he felt the young boy's train of thoughts, an idea occurred to him. It was reckless and it had little possibilities in terms of survival but it was needed. Glaedr! Even Glaedr could assist with the plan. _Finny, listen to me, _said Bard seriously as he began to explain to the youth what he had in mind. After a moment, he drew back, _contact Glaedr and report back to me once you have finished preparations. This may be our only chance to gain control of the center. _

_Give me but a moment Bard, _he pulled back and Bard shared a look with Desdemona and Rosalie. They were smeared in blood and grim, but their eyes shined and they were undaunted by the death that seemed to be rapidly taking root about them. _We will not give in, _thought Bard a feeling of profound purpose washing over him. The battle about him began to slow in his mind as he thought of the time he'd spent with the Varden. Then he thought about Lord Eragon. He had taught them, despite his young age, that they had to fight to live. The victors were those who lived to tell the tale and if they did not fight than they would die. They were going to win no matter what.

Even if he had to kill Barst, he would do it. He would see to it that they would not be oppressed by the Empire any longer. Galbatorix, Barst, Faust, and Jeremiah—those types of people had no place on Alagaësia. _Are you serious about this Bard? _

He glanced at Rosalie and nodded. Her emerald eyes pierced his for a moment then she nodded in return a slight smile coming onto her face. _You and Finny always were the crazy ones, _she said as if it was endearing in a manner. After a moment, her feelings borderline nostalgia as she glanced about the city, taking in the crowded streets, the flashing sight of metal, and furious sounds of battle cries and shouts. _It has been a while since we've returned to the city. To think it would be under such circumstances. _

_Do not tell me you enjoyed living in Urû'baen? _Desdemona asked somewhat incredulously.

_No, but I did enjoy my life in the castle, _she replied as if they were drinking tea rather than fending for their lives. They waited and then he felt Finny's mind touch his once more. Only one words was shared between them: r_eady._

Taking a deep breath, Bard rode forward and then he raised his voice and began to shout to be heard of the clamor of battle, "Everyone, back! Move back now!" he shouted, urging their allies to back away from the center. When they hesitated, his tone grew fierce and he practically roared at them, "I said to move back! If you value your lives do as I say!" There was a faltering in the battle and soon the Varden began to trail back and away from the fighting much to the confusion of the Empire's soldier. When a clear definite line could be seen even if it was a mere five or six feet wide in berth. But it was enough.

_NOW! _

He practically screamed to Finny and Glaedr. Drawing Enoch away from the gap that was created, he raised his head when he heard the sharp whistling through the air. Then a _thud _echoed through the area as a large round stone crashed into the sea of red tunics surprising the army. Then another boulder joined the first. And another. Overhead a slab of concrete from a fallen building crashed down onto the army stemming the flow of soldiers. _Keep going Finny! _Order Bard as he slide from the saddle. He glanced at Rosalie and Desdemona as they followed.

Patting Enoch on his muzzle, he thanked the horse for its bravery. _Go and return to the camp. Do not wait for me Enoch, _he told the stallion. It snorted and turned to pinned him with its bright eyes before turning about and galloping away, the two others following him. _Are you ready? _

Rosalie nodded and without a final word, they turned and made their way towards the growing gap between the two armies as boulders and stone continued to rain down onto the space. Dodging about the stones, he led them toward the center watching as Rosalie and Desdemona made to do some measuring about the ground trying to pinpoint an approximate of the center in the city. It had to be near exact thought Bard as he watched them work under the rain of stone. He watched as they grabbed from their waist a dagger and then with great care began to etch into the stone a thin white line. As they did so, they were murmuring the ancient language underneath their breath and Bard was immensely glad that Galbatorix did not see the need to alter the meanings of these particular words. At least not yet anyways. _Careful, _said Bard as he watched a boulder shatter to pieces too close to Rosalie for his liking. She ignored the sharp rocks that cut into her and continued to work.

It would take minutes for them to etch the full circle and add the markings. When the barrage from overhead paused, Bard glanced back at the Empire's soldiers to see that they were successfully pushed back from the center of the city. They had to maintain their momentum. _Finny, how many boulders do you have left? _

_Just enough to last for a few more minutes but not longer than ten at most, _he replied his mind hinging on exhaustion as he continued to reload the catapults and fire, a job fit for five or six soldiers at once. Bard glanced back at Desdemona and Rosalie as they painstakingly took their time to measure out the circle before they continued. The soldiers before them were about to regroup and they seemed to be sensing a sort of danger from the carvings the two woman were working about. He bit back a curse as he turned and motioned for their army to hurry forward.

"Protect the center!" he yelled as they surged forward once more with renewed vigor at the sight of Rosalie and Desdemona working. They were careful not to disrupt the circle or step on the markings as they circled about the two women seeking to close off any opening that could harm them as they knelt on the ground pressing the tips of their daggers against the concrete surface. While they were doing that, Bard surged forward to try and assist in the fight. The weight of Vrangr pressed heavily on his back as he dodged a blow to his head and in return stabbed his opponent in the chest. Numbers were against them and location was an heavily defining factor.

_Save the last of the boulders, _said Bard as he parried a blow to the chest. He backtracked as a spray of blood came from his right as a soldier was rammed to his death by an Urgal. _Do not use Vrangr and do not let any blood taint the blade in the battle, wrap it if you must to keep it from absorbing anymore blood. _

He mentally cursed. Lord Eragon had made it clear to keep Vrangr from absorbing any more blood then necessary. Therefore it made it hard for him to enter the fray. Backtracking rapidly, he fell behind the front lines watching as Rosalie and Desdemona continued their etching, murmuring rapidly as his lordship had taught them before they'd marched into battle. _Hurry! _He urged in his mind as he saw a shifting in the buildings to their side. He nearly wanted to blanch at the sight of crimson tunics as they poured out from the side. But before he could do more, Roran and his men had rushed out from an alleyway, Angela and Solembum accompanying them. They rushed forward to meet the soldiers stopping them from cutting the front lines in half. Relief, flooded through him. Fifty yards behind him, he saw King Orik and a group of dwarves hewing away at the soldiers that had roundabout from the citadel to try and attack them from behind.

Not far off from the dwarf king, Bard glimpsed Queen Islanzadí whirling through the battle, her red cap flying and her shining armor bright as a star amid the dark mass of bodies. About her head had flitted the white raven that was her companion. His staring was interrupted when he heard a loud cry that he could recognize anywhere. Turning to his left, he watched as Barst charged through the soldiers as he emerged from an alleyway, his eyes hard. Watching as his eyes alight on Rosalie and Desdemona, Bard jumped forward before he could even get the chance to make for them. Somehow, somewhere a battalion had broke formation and had allowed their enemies to make it past the front lines. He cursed but stopped as Oromis appeared behind Barst charging for him and all Bard could do was watch as his older brother turned to strike at the elf who dodged to the side.

There was a strain on his face and Bard knew that the aged Rider would not last against Barst, not with the way his older brother was viciously swinging his mace. Around them, a space formed as friend and foe alike paused to watch them duel. Ahead, Desdemona and Rosalie continued undeterred by the events going on about them. They were focused and were determined to see that their lord's plans would come through. He took a deep breath watching as fast and furious blows were exchanged. Again and again, Barst tried to crush Oromis with his mace but he was fast, as fast Barst was. A minute passed. Then two. Three. Four.

And that was when Bard saw the break in Oromis's stance. His arm faltered and his body seized up on the spot. He watched in horror as the mace swung down on the elf as a seizure tore through his body and then the mace came down as Oromis's golden sword came up. The Rider's blade was knocked to the side due to his dwindling strength and the mace caught Oromis on the side tossing him to the ground where he weakly laid, bleeding profusely from his side. He heard a wail from the elves and suddenly Bard was running towards his older brother as a group of elves came forward, they lifted up Oromis's frail body onto their leaf-shaped shields and bore the Rider away. Overhead, there was a bellow of pure anger and then the smell of smoke wafted up into the air as Glaedr in his anger, released a stream of flames at the inner portion of the city burning the Empire's soldiers within the building in his anger. He lingered for a few seconds longer and when a barrage of arrows flew upwards, the golden dragon flew upwards with three beats of his wings evading the projectiles. He turned tail and made way toward the Varden's camp. No doubt, Glaedr was flying to join Oromis.

Seeing Barst standing there in triumph, blood rushed through him as he ran forward to pick up Oromis's fallen sword. It felt odd and heavy in his hands, but he would not back down as he faced his older brother who stared at him with an odd smile, "Ah, Bard," he spoke pleasantly, "I was wondering when I would see you yellow face. You have been a fairly well off coward to have hidden so long."

"Coward? Look at yourself," Bard yelled as he circled his brother his eyes flickering to his mace that he easily flourished in his hand. "You're just hiding behind the protection that Galbatorix gives you. Without him, you'll be nothing. No more than a dog chasing after his master."

"And I can say the same for you brother," Barst called back as they distanced themselves from each other, "Without your precious magic. You are nothing just like the elves. See how easily they fall by my hands? Without magic, only the strong shall triumph. It is a law of nature that governs us and yet you defy such laws whispering your alien words."

"Then fight me honestly and we shall see who is the stronger of the two of us," challenged Bard, his eyes flickered to Desdemona and Rosalie. They were beginning to etch out the inner circle as the battle ahead of them raged on while the one near Bard had frozen, all holding their breaths as they watched both brothers circle each other.

"Honest battle? There is no such thing here," said Barst as he lifted his mace, "The means does not matter as much as the results. A victory no matter how it is achieved is a victory. Has your lord not taught you that? Or have you finally realized your delusions for following such a weak man?"

"Least he does not stow away like a coward in a hiding hole for the better part of a century!" Bard fought back. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands felt like trembling, and sweat rolled into his eyes. He saw Barst take a step forward and fought to remain calm. He could not die fighting Barst. He still had to do his duty to his lord—to the people of Alagaësia. But he knew that he was the weaker one at the moment. Barst had an Eldunarí, he knew it for certain for his brother had never been gluttonous. Not in the terms of food for the matter perhaps booze and women but never food.

As his older brother swung his mace down on him, he brought the golden blade up to parried it. The blow forced him back a step and his arms shook with exertion as he clenched his jaw at the smug look on Barst's face. "Where is your strength Bard?" he struck again and this time, Bard ducked under whirling about to dodge a blow to his side. "Where is your strategies? Where is your magic?"

Backpedaling, he huffed as he dodged another blow. He was like a rabbit cornered by a wolf, helpless against the higher of the power. But as he blocked another blow, he blinked when a shining blade had come out and met Barst's mace as it swung down on his head and beside him, standing proud and tall with a ferocious expression on her face was Queen Islanzadí. That was when he saw the elves that surrounded them as they circled about to keep their queen company in case she needed their help.

He exchanged a look with Islanzadí. He blinked at him before she leapt forward to engage Barst drawing him away from Bard as he fought to regain his breathing. His older brother—the Eldunarí—it was too strong for him to overcome, even if he did have the magic necessary to do so. Humiliated at his own weakness, he watched the fight between the two. The blows from both Islanzadí and Barst were too fast to follow—only a blur was visible when they struck—and the sound of their weapons clashing was louder than all of the other noises in the city.

Minutes passed as Islanzadí and Barst fought back and forth across the street. In motion, the elf queen was glorious; swift, lithe, and powerful. Unlike Barst, she could not afford to make a single mistake—nor did she—for her wards would not protect her. With every moment, Bard's admiration for Islanzadí increased.

Barst swung with his mace at her once more, but Islanzadí stopped the blow with her sword, and they stood facing each other with their weapons locked together at the top, the blade of her sword wedged between the flanges of his mace. Elf and human swayed as they pushed against one another. Neither was able to gain the advantage. The Queen Islanzadí shouted a word in the ancient language, and where their weapons met, a harsh, brilliant light shone forth. Seeing this, Bard started forward his panic overwhelming him. If his older brother struck down the queen, he would never be able to face Arya anymore. The shame of it would make it difficult to face that elf who had saved his lord.

For a minute, the only sounds were the cried of the wounded and a ringing, bell-like tone that grew louder until was nearly unbearable. TO the side, Bard saw Solembum cringing and covering his tasseled ears with his paws. When the sound was at the very height of its intensity, the blade of Islanzadí's sword cracked, and the light and hell-like tone vanished. Then the elf queen smote at Bart's face with the broken end of her sword, and she said, "Thus I curse you, Barst, son of Berengar!"

Bard watched as Barst allowed her sword to fall upon his wards, then he swung his mace once more. A shout left Bard's lips as he watched the weapon descend on the queen. There was a flash of a golden light and he paused mid step, his mouth falling open at the sight before him. A sword had appeared to block the mace from reaching the queen. But it was not the suddenness of the action it was the person who held the sword. He recognized the horned helmet and the black armor and blinked. That armor belonged to his lordship…but then…

The person pushed Islanzadí back and then threw Barst's mace back with such speed that it was hard to follow. Spared of death, Islanzadí tossed her broken sword aside and made to rejoin her generals, who came to surround her. Shaking his head, Bard ran forward and pressed the golden sword in the Islanzadí's hands as he turned to watch the fighting renewed with another opponent. He did not speak as he fought Barst, not faltering in his steps.

"Watch out!" yelled Bard running to help the unknown person. His older brother's mace swung down and caught the horns on the held and it tossed the metal aside. A strangled gasp left his lips at the strange phenomena before them. There the armor stood and it was empty. The horn helm tumbled to the ground and laid there for a moment. Then as if someone was controlling it, the metal object lifted itself up in the air and resettled itself on the black armor. _What in the…? _

Seeing the strange armor fight, there was a renewed spirit amongst the Varden as they watched Barst being pushed back. He was fighting an opponent that could not be killed and that made the prospect of the battle all the more better. But as much as he wanted to watch, Rosalie's voice echoed in his mind. _Bard, we are finished! _

Tearing his attention away from Barst and the empty armor, he grabbed Vrangr from his back as he sprinted to the center in which Rosalie and Desdemona were standing. Barst made to chase after him but was blocked by the sword of the black armor. When he reached Desdemona and Rosalie, he took a moment to study them. They were sweating profusely, and bleeding at various cuts but otherwise they were fine. His eyes flickered to the ground. The circle, just as Rosalie said, was finished and it was etched deeply into the stone. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to his companions as they cleared the circle. Unwrapping the silk cloth about the sword in his hands, he stared at the dark sapphire scabbard. All about them the battle continued to rage except for where Barst was still fighting his new opponent.

Gripping the pommel of Vrangr, he slid the blade out of its scabbard. The blade glowed a soft gold in his hands and it began to shake slightly. He took a deep breath as his eyes flickered to Desdemona and Rosalie. They both nodded to him. _Alagaësia, please help us! _

Pointing the tip of the sword against the ground, he held it parallel to his body as he took in a deep breath, his determination flowing forth. No matter how dangerous this was. He would not back down. Then letting out a yell, he drove the tip downwards into the center of the circle, "For Lord Eragon!"

The sword continued to sink into the ground until a quarter of the sapphire blade was embedded into the concrete. Holding on tightly, he spread his feet as there was an echoing boom as a torrent of air was released from some unknown source silencing the battle. Vrangr glowed in his hands and blood began to seep outwards from the blade dripping down onto the ground and filling the indentations of the circle against the ground. He watched as the blade continued to pour blood against the ground and when the entire circle was outline in blood there was a bright flash of golden light and Bard was tossed from the circle, falling to the ground outside as everyone stopped to view what it was that was happening, all except for Barst and his opponent.

It was slight at first but there was a soft singing in the air before it grew louder and a hymn—an alien hymn—floated through the air. Straightening to his feet, he glanced at Rosalie and Desdemona. Clearing his throat, Bard opened his mouth and he took began to sing the hymn. The sounds were at a loss to him but there was a sense of understanding that he received from the song that brought him peace. Rosalie and Desdemona joined him and he knew that somewhere on the parapets that Finny was singing along as well. Their voices added to the hymn, Bard watched as Vrangr flared with life and then from the heavens above a bolt of golden energy connected with the blade, its origins the sky. The ground gave a tremendous quake and the hymn grew louder as the blood circle pulsed with life.

The tremor in the ground continued and for a moment, Bard feared that the entire city would collapse to the ground as Vrangr continued to maintain the connection to the sky. "The ground!" someone shouted.

The blood circle that was formed began to shift and a pale, blue light covered the circle. It shined brightly as the hymn increased in volume nearly deafening them. Then an all powering voice spoke, forcing all of them to their knees in one fluid movement. No, they weren't forced to their knees, they were compelled to do so. It was voice that contained everything he knew and understood. It touched him at the deepest recesses of his being as if it was speaking to him and merely to him, no one else. Yet despite its authority, it was soothing and serene like that of a mother. To the side, he saw Islanzadí staring intently at the circle her expression one that was hard to discern but he had an inkling that she was anxious to see what Lord Eragon had meant by _Alagaësia. _The voice continued to speak in its alien language. They heard the cries of thousands of birds in once voice, the howls of hundreds of wolves, the sound of recognition from the dragons, and the movement of the whole of Alagaësia as the land and its inhabitants welcomed their mother back to their realm once more.

Then the voice shifted into the ancient language and two words rang out.

_Alagaësia, awaken. _

The ground gave a heave before the hymn subsided and it left the air empty. But the sapphire shine on the circle did not subside nor did the golden connection with the sky. They were silent, no one dared to move and them a tremendous bellow sounded through the air causing all of them to glance upwards. There in the sky was a gaping ebony tear in the splitting apart the blue background. A snout appeared, white and glimmering but it did not seem entirely solid but transparent. Then an enormous body came forth. It was larger than any dragon he'd yet to see. It unfurled its wings and released yet another bellowing cry. No, it wasn't alive. It was a soul. A soul of the dead.

Following the white dragon six more emerged, each of them large enough to be called a mountain if need be. They stared down at Urû'baen, their teeth bared. He heard a gasp and turned to Vrangr, there rising from the sapphire ground were people. They were not solid, but they were connected by some means to this physical boundary. One person rose slowly from the ground or the gate as it seemed to be and stood proud and tall, his silver hair shining in the light. His body was transparent as if he was barely there and he stared out at them with his hard eyes.

They came to rest on Islanzadí and he smiled slightly at the Queen's wide eyes. One word left her lips that sounded through the silence left behind the powerful voice earlier and the hymn.

"Evandar…"

And they continued to rise as if they were coming from the earth themselves. He watched as the elf named Evandar made his way forward to stand by Islanzadí. He did not say anything but merely he motioned towards the black armor that was fighting. Stepping forward, he merged with the armor and then it began to change. The black color of the armor fell away and it began to shift and change, turning silver. The horns began to shift and rather than horns, pointed ears rested on the helm.

All about them, Bard watched as the transparencies rose up from the gate and merged with the soldiers of their army. Then when one elf stopped before him, Bard blinked. The elf woman merely inclined her head holding out her hand to him. Knowing that he could not grasp it, he lifted his hand and watched as she touched his fingers, her own sliding through his flesh before she disappeared within in. Instantly, a chill washed over him as he felt a dam snap and a wealth of energy flow forth. Instantly rejuvenated, Bard scrambled to his feet. Both armies were still having trouble comprehend what was happening.

But he was not.

Alagaësia had awakened and she had decided to help them. Lifting his sword into the air, he let out a triumph shout. "To your feet! Alagaësia is with us! Fight! Fight them till there are no more soldiers to fight!" A cry met his ears and he turned to find Roran, streaks of tears rolling down his face and a slight joy that was not a result of the battle. Had he seen someone he knew in the souls that had crossed the boundaries of the dead to the living to help them?

"For our loved ones!" Nasuada's voice could be heard echoing in the streets of Urû'baen. "Let their deaths not be in vain! Thousands have died at the hands of Galbatorix and their men for the past century! We must avenge them! We must fight for what they had died fighting for! Remember them! Fathers, brothers, mothers, and children! None were spared! And they shall continue dying whilst we let the Empire rule us! There is only one path left and that is to fight! Everyone on your feet! Let them remind us what it is that we are here for!"

All about them, he heard loud cheers of hope as the men got to their feet. Cheering with them, he turned to find his older brother fighting both Islanzadí and the now gleaming silver armor. The two of them danced about Barst together, appearing as if they had fought together long before. His eyes narrowed as he stared at his older brother. He knew Queen Islanzadí could kill Barst but he did not want her to. Instead, he wanted to kill Barst. His body pulsing with energy unseen, he ran forward.

"Barst!" his brother barely spared him a glance as he countered Islanzadí's blow but she had flicked her wrist and the golden sword in her hand cut the chain of the ball that clung to the mace. His older brother now had no weapon but they were not going to need weapons. "Queen Islanzadí, please allow me to take care of Barst!"

The elf queen spared him a long look before she acquiesced. Elegantly moving away from battle, she and her companion merged together with the bodies about them. Turning to his brother, Bard tossed his sword to the side and went into a crouch. "What is this?" asked Barst staring at him with a frown. "Some trickery of yours once more?"

"While Galbatorix can manipulate magic all he wants through the ancient language, it does not mean that he can control it fully for magic can be used without the use of words," said Bard, "Alagaësia…she has had enough of the fighting and the bloodshed."

"Do not go sprouting such delusions," said Barst, bending his knees. Despite his protruding belly, he looked like wolf ready to pounce. "It is embarrassing."

"One would think," he hesitated before he shook his head, "Let us end this Barst. You have the Eldunarí and I have the will of Alagaësia, let us see which of us shall win and above all if we have placed our faith in the correct lord."

Barst's brows furrowed and his lips pulled back to a slight snarl. A second passed as the fighting grew about them and the armies began to shift, the Varden was slowly pushing the Empire back. Without warning, the two of them leapt at each other yelling.

"For Galbatorix!"

"For Lord Eragon!"

Hand meeting hand, they fought to win over each other, their muscles straining. He would not lose, not to Barst. Feeling his knees bend slightly, a flash of panic surged through him followed by determination. _Help me! _There was a split second when he thought he was going to be forced to the ground but then a flowing music filled his mind and as if someone was channeling energy into him, he felt himself push back at his brother. Straining his muscle, Bard continued to push and when he felt his strength falter, another chill enveloped his body and he knew than that someone had come to help him. Than another chill and the energy whirling within his mind and suffusing his limbs were too great. It wanted an exit, a way to relieve itself and the only way to do so was through Barst. Letting out a yell, he forced his brother onto his knees watching as a bit of fear entered his eyes.

_I will win. I must! _

Then with a great push, he brought Barst against the ground and like when they were younger lunged on top of his brother as if they were wrestling. But this wasn't like the times when they would playfully roll about on the carpet of their small and humble home together, laughing and shouting how one day they would join the army to serve their king. No, this was a battle of wills, of life and death. One of them would survive and Bard was determined that it would be him. No matter how much it hurt to know that the man he was fighting against was his older brother he would do what he had to.

"You—fool!" Barst gasped as Bard placed his right foot on the back on his knees keeping him on the ground. Then with his arms, he wrapped it about his brother's breastplate. Then with all the strength he possessed, he squeezed on the metal putting forth as much energy as he could to trying to snap the armor. _Forgive me, _thought Bard as he put more pressure on the armor guarding the Eldunarí. _But I shall not let my brother win. Not this time. _

He felt Barst struggle in his grip as if understanding what it was that Bard was trying to accomplish. "You kill me…you will kill yourself as well Bard!" his brother gasped as he slammed an elbow to his side. He ignored the throbbing pain and instead put more pressure on Barst's knees as he pulled his torso tightly against his body, his arms continuing its iron grip about the belly area. _I need more strength. _

The melody in his head grew tremendously as the river of energy widened into the gaping maw of an ocean. Channeling all the energy into his grip, he continued to hold his brother now, the stronger of the two. The Eldunarí was weakening and was unable to fend against the continuous flow of energy that washed through is body. _This is for all those your king has killed. For all those who have come today to aid us even in the afterlife. _

His brother was wildly struggling now as they heard a creak in his armor. "Bard…Bard…do not kill me…I am your brother," he grunted. "You cannot…kill your…brother…"

"I can and I will," he grunted as another elbow struck him. "You chose wrong when you decided to fight for Galbatorix…brother." His grip tightened and he felt that armor move inward. He felt Barst's hands on his arms trying to tug them away but his grip merely tightened as he felt a slight anguish overwhelm him as he prepared himself for the final crushing grip.

"I wish things have been different Barst, my brother," then with that said he squeezed, his muscles straining with the effort. His brother gasped and struggled but it was to no avail for the breastplate caved in, giving way underneath his arms and the strength that flowed through him, and there was the sound of a crystal breaking.

"No!" shouted Barst even as a pure white light erupted from the edges of his armor. He went rigid, as if chains had pulled every limb to the farthest reach, and he began to shake uncontrollably. _This is for the hundreds of lives you've taken today, Barst. You have killed humans, Urgals, dwarves, elves, and werecats as they were no more than mere flies in your way. Please, find peace in death. _

The light blinded Barst and burned his arms and face. He vaguely heard Rosalie calling for him to move away but he was too dazed to respond. He released his brother falling beside him as he sought to cover his eyes and forearms.

The light continued to pour out from under Barst's breastplate until the edges of the metal began to glow. Then the blaze ceased leaving the world darker than before, and what little remained of Barst tumbled backward and lay smoking on the cobblestones. He blinked now tired from all the energy that he expended on the attack. The once large, ocean sized energy was gone now a dried up stream. His hands reached out towards the burnt corpse of his brother not unrecognizable as it laid there and he heard in his mind the voice of a young boy speaking to him.

_Bard when we grow older, let us join the army together. The both of us! We'll be soldiers for the king! _

_Perhaps in the next life Barst, _thought Bard sadly allowing himself this one moment of grief over the brother that he had just killed with his own hands. However sad he was, he shook it off locking away his grief deep in his heart. There will be time to mourn for his brother later but now he had to fight. He had a duty left to fulfill and that was to help the Varden win. As he scrambled to his feet, he paused when he heard a loud roar from Lord Eragon's castle followed by a tremendous explosion that rocked the ground.

They had to hold out until the Galbatorix was dealt with. Grabbing a sword from a fallen body nearby, he stumbled forward slightly uneven on his feet. When a soldier rushed towards him yelling, he was slow to react but before the man could skewer Bard, a sword came out from his left and killed the man in a swift cut to the head.

"Bard, you must focus!" Rosalie scolded him as she darted past him and following by her side was Blödhgarm. His scale armor was drenched in blood but otherwise he seemed fine. His eleven spellcasters spared Bard a glance that he could say that looked akin to worry but they were gone before he could even process the expression in his mind.

"Do not falter!" he heard Roran's loud voice over the noise, "Push them back! The battle shall be ours!"

A cheer went up into the air and for the first time after the long fighting, he felt hope enter him as he stared at the frontlines and how they were steadily pushing the soldiers back, who were now frightened at the loss of their commander and were beginning to break ranks. All of those deaths earlier, all of the worrying had amounted to something. Readying his sword, Bard charged forward and it took him a moment to register that it was his gruff voice shouting.

"For Alagaësia!"

**The last chapter hopefully shall be updated tomorrow everyone. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I'll like to take this moment to thank all of you readers and reviewers. You've all certainly motivated me to write so much. Fun fact, I did some calculations (roughly CP writes about 500 words per page and so I did some calculations and an approximate in terms of the book standards of Inheritance, this story is around about 1,015 pages! WOW!) That makes my head spin! That is undoubtedly a terrific length and to think I wrote about half of this in about 60 days! (Starting from chapter 55 and onward I believe). I hope you are all anxious for the ending part! I'll see you all soon! **


	105. Chapter 101

Chapter 101

**And so for the big finale...I've worked on this all day and even put my lunch on hold for you guys. Then I had some nice burgers from Steak'n'Shake! (Frisco Melts are delicious if I do say so myself) I know some of you are sad that this story is ending and I think I'm sad seeing it come to an end as well. But before you all freak out, I did promise a few post-war chapters and I shall write and post them after the conclusion of this story which isn't that very far away. I hope you've all enjoyed the battle scene and I'm hoping you'll enjoy the last of it in this chapter. (Inheritance=CP) Anyways, R&R. **

_The hymn…_

He heard it in the back of his mind despite the blaring pain of the burrow grub in his body. He clenched his jaw refusing to let escape any indication that he was in a tremendous amount of pain. As he laid there, he felt a soft tremor beneath his body. _They had done it. _The singing continued growing into an alarmingly loud volume as the quakes in the Earth increased proportionally. Still having the ability to move his neck, he turned to see a golden light descend from the sky towards the center of the city. That was the connection. He only had a moment to do it correctly.

_A distraction…I need a distraction, _thought Eragon dully. He shifted trying to move against the invisible hold on his body but it was to no avail. Whatever spell Galbatorix had casted upon him, it was too difficult for him to overcome. Lying there on the stone ground of what was once his courtyard, he heard her once more. Her voice—in the alien language that he had first heard it in—spoke. The authority in her voice instantly sent his Arya, Murtagh, the children, and even Galbatorix to their knees. The surprise that erupted on the king's face was evident that he had not anticipated such a turnabout. But it was enough for the bonds that held Eragon was suddenly gone.

This was his moment. He scrambled to his feet despite the immense pain he felt in his limbs and lunged for Brisingr. Having already been subjected to the power of Alagaësia and her voice beforehand, he knew how to control his body in the face of her authority. He saw Galbatorix turn to him, his mouth opening as he sought words to immobilize Eragon to place but he did not give the king a chance. With a clean flick of his wrist, he sliced his sword into his hand drawing blood onto the blade before he drove Brisingr into the ground to complete the connection. His sword remained still in his hand and then flared to life and the shaking grew as he felt the bridge between his soul and the gate that led to Her sanctuary come into being.

It was odd. It was nothing like how he'd felt when Arya had merged her soul with his. Rather, it felt like the melting away of his limbs followed by an immense feeling of freedom—freedom from his body, from the physical aspects of Alagaësia itself. _Maintain the gate, Eragon. _He blinked when he felt a familiar tug on his soul threatening to swallow him into the gate that he had opened but he held fast as he heard the cries of the animals about them, the dragons joining in as the connection between the physical and spiritual realm of Alagaësia grew, solidifying into a proper bridge made through the link of his physical body as well as his soul.

Then the gate was opened.

A strangled gasp left him as he felt the tremendous flood of memories flood through him and voices of the dead erupt within his mind, whispering and murmuring over each other to create a thunderstorm of noise. They were not trying to suffocate him but they were trying to help him despite the vast numbers of souls that occupied his mind. There was just too much and he was brought back to the time he had touched the stream of consciousness. The voices threatened to tear at him. They threatened to swallow his entire person and keep him submerged. Almost, he had almost been swept away but it was Saphira's and Arya's presence that kept him grounded. He still had a battle to fight, one that was brewing for a century. _Help me, _Eragon spoke to the voices trying to tell them that he was in need of a way to go against Galbatorix and the true name of the ancient language. They fluctuated growing chaotic before they subsided into a dull river of whispers indistinguishable against each other. But he heard their message loud and clear and the sense of purpose and determination that seeped through them.

_We will help. _

Even in the afterlife, they wanted to give a part of them to defeat Galbatorix. His vision which was blurred earlier returned into focus and he saw something in the sky that awed him. It was filled with dragons from the extremely enormous original seven to the smallest of ones that were not even comparable to Eridor's size. But they were not physical beings, thought Eragon as he could still see through them to the ebony tear in the sky. _That was the gate. _That was the gate that his soul was maintaining. It seemed unbelievable to him. He could not even comprehend what it was that he was staring at until he heard a yell as Galbatorix moved to his feet and for the first time in Eragon's life, the king was losing his composure.

He had torn his eyes away from the vision of the sky above them and pinned them on Eragon, furious. Turning to Galbatorix, Eragon made to rush at the king but he blinked as Galbatorix raised his hand shouting, "_Letta!" _

Immediately, he halted in his path struggling against the magic that bounded him. His eyes darted to Murtagh and Arya. They were disorientated from the sudden voice of Alagaësia and were trying to return from the daze that her being had sent them in to. Everything was out now. There were no more hidden strategies to be taken. It was either they make a stand and win against Galbatorix else they die trying for submission was not an option. Not to Eragon at least. He watched as Galbatorix stepped forward towards him, his grip tightening on Vrangr.

Galbatorix stopped a foot in front of him and glared at him, a thick, forked vein prominent in his brow, the muscles of his heavy jaw knotting. He said a low word that Eragon could not catch and his body convulsed as he felt the burrow grub move within him, tightening its hold on his body and they threatened to wipe his sight away in visions of nightmares. But as soon as the pain burst forth it was gone and the voices were whispering in his mind again. He felt an odd wave pulse through his body and heard the pained cries of _skree-skree. _There was a breaking of his skin at various points in his body and he felt something crawl against his skin before several green centipedes came free from the gaps in his armor falling onto the ground. They made to hop away but were suddenly engulfed in bright violet flames. Their pained cries erupted into the air before they died away, the centipedes no more than charred remains of what he believed to be the burrow grub.

The voices continued to whisper.

Eragon gave a tug at his bonds hoping that they could possibly counterattack Galbatorix's magic with theirs. He felt a shift in the river of whispers as they realized his intentions. Galbatorix lifted his eyes from the ashes and turned them to Eragon, his piercing stare boring into him and he knew then that the king was extremely displeased. He had angered Galbatorix beyond belief and knew that it was only a matter of time before the king decided to punish him for it. He felt the whispers continue as they tried to find a way to work about Galbatorix's wards, whispering alien words as they began to create a type of magic that would offset the king's. He would only have to wait.

After a moment, he spoke in a rage filled voice, "What is the meaning of this Eragon? What have you wrought on Alagaësia?"

The voices spoke to him, telling him to bide his time for they were close. "I did naught. Alagaësia herself decided that it was time that she step in to help me rid her lands of you. You have done nothing but poison her spirit with all of your tyranny. I did not bring her wrath upon Urû'baen, I gave her the means to do so."

He saw a flash of emotion in Galbatorix's eyes but as fast as it was he still caught it. The king was afraid of something he did not know, afraid of Alagaësia for she was a greater being then he was. Eragon pushed forward as he felt a slight loosening in his bonds and he knew that the souls of the dead were very close to freeing him. From his peripheral vision, he saw Arya and Murtagh twitch where they half stood, half knelt. So they, too, were being assisted by those beyond the gates.

"Do not believe that I have been idle during my time away from Urû'baen and your tutelage," said Eragon, careful still not to anger the king least he would kill the two frightened children. Brother and sister clung to each other as they watched the scene before them. It was odd to think that children would be witnessing a battle that would be spoken about for centuries to come but it made sense for they were the new generation. Who best to carry on such tales apart from children? Though he only wished they were not so involved in the fighting. "You spent a century searching for the true name of the ancient language while I spent my time looking for the true name of Alagaësia. To think both master and pupil shall be standing opposed to each other. You have the ancient language but I have the will of the land. Which one is the stronger of the two I wonder?"

If anything, Galbatorix's fury began to boil on the surface. It was clear now that he was unsure of his own powers. His eyes seemed to twitch upwards, itching to take in the sight of the dragons that filled the heavens. Most of which, Eragon believed, he and his Forsworn have killed. They were here for revenge and Eragon was going to help them extract it. The voices murmured in agreement with him and he felt Umaroth's presence, though dim against the pressing of the souls, agree as well. "Think you to challenge me, _boy?" _he growled, fairly spitting with rage. "Think you to be my equal? That you could lay me low and steal my throne?" The chords in Galbatorix's neck stood out like a skein of twisted rope. He plucked at the edge of his cape. "I cut this mantle from the wings of Belegabad himself, and my gloves too." He lifted Vrangr and held is bleak blade before Eragon's eyes. "I took this sword from Vrael's hand, and I took this crown from the head of the mewling wretch who wore it before me. And yet you think to outwit me? _Me? _I taught you the ways of the world, the ways of the Riders. I gave you the strength that you have today and you repay me but marching to my castle and killing my men?" He drew himself up and Eragon half believed he would breathe fire upon him. "And you act as if you are better than I. As if you are more _noble _or _virtuous, _when in truth not but a year or so ago you were Gabranth, the monster who served me. Do not think yourself the better of me merely because you have spent a handful of months outside of these walls."

Eragon's head rang, and a constellation of throbbing, swirling crimson motes appeared before his eyes as Galbatorix struck him on the cheek with Vrangr's pommel, tearing his skin. He blinked and saw Arya's grip about the Dauthdaert tightened and was heartened when he saw the slight twitch in her arms. They were almost there.

"You need to be taught a lesson in humility, boy," said Galbatorix, moving closer, until his gleaming eyes were mere inches from Eragon's. He struck Eragon on the other cheek, and for a second all Eragon could see was a black immensity littered with flashing lights. It was pushed back though as the whispers comforted him. He felt the binds continue to loosen.

"I shall _enjoy _teaching you not to turn against your master," said Galbatorix. Eragon blinked before his body seized up as a blade of thought, honed to an infinitesimal point, pierced his consciousness and sheathed itself in the marrow of his beings. But as soon as Galbatorix attacked him, he had realized his mistake for his mind was now left open without the protection of the Eldunarí under his command. The voices pressed in on the king and pushed back, their hidden strength pouring through as they drew the blade of thought from Eragon's mind. The blade was shattered into a thousand tiny pieces and he heard Galbatorix cry out as he drew away from Eragon. The minds continued to examine the tiny pieces of thought before Galbatorix could withdraw behind the myriad of crazed Eldunarí to protect himself. But that one moment was enough for they had gained the upper advantage over Galbatorix. They understood his magic and wards and could now overcome it.

A Word left Eragon's mouth. He did not say it intentionally nor did he remember saying it but the ancient language continued to flow from him. He watched empowered as Galbatorix recoiled and lifted a hand, as if to shield himself. The air about Galbatorix flashed red and black, and for an instant, his body appeared to be wreathed in flames. There was a sound like that of a high summer wind stirring the branches of an evergreen forest. Then Eragon heard a series of thin shrieks as twelve orbs of light appeared around Galbatorix's head and fled outward from him, flying upwards into the sky before disappearing.

A second passed and Arya and Murtagh were up on their feet making their way towards Galbatorix trying to circle about him to keep him trapped between the three of them. Meanwhile, Saphira spun around—freed from her own invisible bonds—and pounced on Shruikan's immense neck. The ebony dragon bellowed and scrambled backwards, shaking his head in an attempt to throw Saphira off. Seeing her struggle to keep her teeth latched into the great dragon's neck, Thorn and Eridor went to assist her pouncing on top of Shruikan trying to subdue him. The noise of his growls was painfully loud, and the ground shook with their struggles. Shruikan tossed his head, letting out an ear splitting roar.

On the bench, the children screamed and covered their ears with their hands. They made the mistake of drawing attention to themselves for Galbatorix turned to them. He raised his hands and shouted something at the children. A bright light erupted from his palms and flew towards them. Quick on his feet, Eragon darted forwards towards the children but Murtagh was faster. He reached the children seconds before the spell could and tugged them out of the way. The ball of light collided with one of the walls of his former castle. The wall disappeared as a bright light erupted at the point of contact suffusing the stone before a tremendous explosion shook the castle. It traveled along the wall, seeking to destroy everything it came into contact with.

The stone cracked and exploded outwards, raining the courtyard with its sharp rocks. Windows shattered, the glass panes creating a rainbow of color as they flew through the air. Covering his body with his shield, he watched as what once was his home began to crumble about him, wall after wall falling to the ground. The chaos continued as Shruikan howled trying to free himself from the three dragons bearing down on him. Then a minute passed and once the last of the explosions died out leaving behind a tremendous circle of rubble, Eragon tossed his destroyed shield to the side. The dragons were still fighting each other but all of them were sporting injuries from the exploding walls and shattering windows. He could see the fine cuts on Saphira that were made from the debris that had made it past her armor.

Rage filled Eragon as he turned back to Galbatorix to see him opening his mouth to speak the true name of the ancient language once more but the voices compelled Eragon to speak. The alien tongue that he heard from the original seven dragons as well as Alagaësia rang from his lips and he watched as Galbatorix opened his mouth once more and stopped before he growled, throwing Eragon a glare that made it clear that the king wanted nothing more than to kill him. "Now you are without magic," said Eragon as he readied Brisingr in his hands. "You shall have no choice but to fight me Galbatorix. No more threats, no more secrets, and no more conniving. Be the king that you claim to be and duel me. If you say you are the better of us than let us see it. Or are you afraid that your pupil shall outshine you?"

His eyes darted to Murtagh who was clutching the pale and shaking siblings. They were deadly white but they seemed unharmed. He sent one thought to his brother. _Get them some place safe and come back to fight. _Murtagh hesitated but he did as he was asked. Sheathing Zar'roc, he grabbed the children up in his arms as if they weighed nothing and bounded off to the side to stow the children away. "Better men have come and asked me for a duel," snarled Galbatorix but he raised Vrangr as if he was going to protect him. "Men far above you, they outreach you, just as I shall show you how I will outreach you, Eragon. Do not push me into fighting you for I shall not relent even if once you were my loyal servant."

"Enough with your talking," Eragon shot back as he felt adrenaline pump through him. The voices were all whispering in anticipation for a battle that they had wished to see for decades. Umaroth and the Eldunarí were speaking to him, telling him that it was time to rid Alagaësia of the evil that was Galbatorix. "Ready your sword Galbatorix. It is here in your precious city shall I make you see the world as it is and how in that world you shall no longer exist."

With that said, Eragon charged forward and he saw Arya from the corner of his eyes turn in the direction of Shruikan. She ran forward, the Dauthdaert flashing in her hands. Praying that she was not going to be crushed by the black dragon, he turned back to Galbatorix meeting his pale blade with the shimmering blue of his own. The brows of the king furrowed as he pushed back at Eragon and the two of them, once teacher and student, fought with everything in their being, with the entire fiber of their existence. They fought to win out. Now with his magic closed off, the king could do nothing else but to fight Eragon.

He did not know how the voices did it, but they had created a spell that did not allow the ancient language to form from Galbatorix's lips nor his mind. They had dulled the language to the man, like a drug that Galbatorix had once ordered Durza to give Arya and Murtagh during their imprisonment. It was only momentary though they had told him for eventually the knowledge of the language would return to Galbatorix as time worn on for he was a strong opponent to try and limit. It was as honest of a battle that Eragon could make it. He thought for a moment as he parried Galbatorix's blow to his head about Vrael. The leader of the Riders had hesitated when he went to kill Galbatorix and that had led to the king kicking him down and wounding him. Then when he fled to recover at the watchtower at Palacanar Valley, Galbatorix had killed him and had stolen his sword. When the time came, he was not going to hesitate thought Eragon as he swiped at Galbatorix with Brisingr pulling his arm back as Vrangr came down on his elbow hoping to sever the limb in half.

He shuffled his feet circling about the king. Though his heart pounded in his chest to the point that it hurt, there was a sense of calmness that pervaded his veins and every corner of his mind. Had he looked back in his life, he would have never chanced at a guess that he would be here, standing in the ruins of his castle fighting Galbatorix. He had come a long way thought Eragon as he slammed his leg into Galbatorix's trying to stagger the king. He was fast though for he regained his footing within the next second and slammed his pommel into Eragon's chest, denting the armor but not heavily for Eragon had shifted backwards to avoid the hit.

"You will not win Eragon," Galbatorix hissed at him as their feet drove them together, their blades sliding against each other as the two swords met once more. "All you know is what I have taught you. You have not the knowledge to defeat me. Nor do you have the strength to oppose my blade. Admit defeat and I shall forgive your transgressions."

He pushed at Galbatorix, the two of them struggled against each other and when he felt his strength wane, the voices began to speak loudly and the energy flowing through him was enough to burn his body alive. He felt as if every being of his was comprised of not bones and blood but the single pulsing of life, bright and overflowing. "I do not need your forgiveness nor do I want it. Have you still not realized it? You have made your bed Galbatorix and now you must lie in it. The decisions you have made in the past century led you to this moment. Do not keep running from it like a coward."

A fierce growl left the king's lips as Eragon shoved him back. He ran forward and Brisingr met Vrangr once more. "And you? You believe yourself to be the one to rid Alagaësia of me? What shall you do Eragon if you kill me? Will you take up the mantle as the new leader of the Rider? The new king?"

"No, I never desired a crown atop my head," denied Eragon. _Do not let him unsettle you, _he heard Umaroth speak in his mind. He took in a deep breath and drew his sword arm back once more and dodged by Vrangr and managed to nick Galbatorix's left cheek drawing a fine line across his face. Behind them the dragons gave a roar and he fought the urge to turn about to see how Arya was faring. Galbatorix's eyes were hard as he stared at him before his expression split into a cruel smile, "No, I am saddened to say that I am wrong but I believe there is something else that you desire above all else." Eragon blinked not expecting his next move as Galbatorix batted Brisingr to the side, flitting past Eragon. He turned to see the king darting to Arya as she tried to move about the dragons to reach Shruikan but the black dragon was tossing his head too wildly for her to dare to make it any closer.

_Arya behind you!_

She turned but was slow to dodge and he watched as Vrangr caught her arm, slicing through the metal of her armor but luckily it was more of a mere graze. Deftly wielding the Dauthdaert as she would Támerlein, she stabbed at Galbatorix her emerald eyes bright while Eragon closed in on the king from behind, swinging Brisingr. He felt angered as he saw the thin line of red blood on the pale blade, the contrasting colors startling. Even now, Galbatorix was aiming for the unfair advantage. He was trying to unsettle him enough that he might hesitate.

But what Galbatorix did not realize about Arya was that Eragon had faith in her and that she could take care of herself. She threw Galbatorix back with Eragon's help and he turned to the king pushing him back a safe distance away from Arya. The pale blade swung once more and Eragon blocked, feeling his arms shake slightly at the collision of metal before they were separated. Before Galbatorix could swing at him once again, he dodged to the side as a red blade appeared where he was standing but moments earlier.

Murtagh had rejoined them. He spared Eragon a look that conveyed the message that the children were safe before he nodded his head towards Galbatorix. The two brothers stared at each other for a moment before they sprung forward, their blades flashing. In this moment, the two of them were truly brothers beyond anything before as they shifted about each other pinning Galbatorix with ruby and sapphire as the paleness of his blade fought off the two swords. They had met under trying circumstances. He had once resented Murtagh, hated him even, but that time felt so long ago and instead he found himself glad that his half-brother was fighting beside him.

They were brothers, raised under different circumstances. One was raised and tormented in the very courtyard of the ruined castle that they stood in. While the other was raised in a small farm in a backwater village called Carvahall. Wealth and nobility did not amount to the warmth and love that Murtagh had felt when he was a child. How Eragon had found himself wishing that they had traded places. But then he had realized after what seemed like ages of wandering that in some ways that he had been better off than Murtagh. He had Saphira, he had his servants, and most of all he had his mother. She had brought them together, she had been the link that made them a family. And family they were. They had struggled against all odds, against the distance that had separated them physically and emotionally to become a family despite the oddities and the extremities of fate. And when Ella was born, it had only done more to tighten their family.

He rushed forward towards Galbatorix as Murtagh did so at an angle to him and the three of them met, their swords meeting each other. They pushed at Galbatorix trying to tire him so that one of them could get the best of him. But then as they struggled, there was a bellow and Eragon saw from his vantage point that Shruikan had tossed the three dragons off of him and swiped at Arya sending her tumbling away on the ground.

With a shout, Galbatorix twisted his hand freeing the tip of Vrangr before driving it into Murtagh's side, the sword piercing his armor as his brother let out a gasp, blood spilling from his lips. Quick to act, Eragon sliced at Galbatorix wounding his right arm but the king had turned and ran for Shruikan, the dragon bleeding profusely.

"Eragon, go!" Murtagh gasped clutching his wound with a grimace. "I shall follow in a moment. Go and do not let him escape!" Nodding, he spared his brother one last look and sprint towards Saphira. She was already waiting for him. He wanted to go to Arya as she picked herself off of the ground but Shruikan was already leveling off in the air and flying straight towards the center of the city. Refusing to let the king escape, he jumped atop Saphira. She did not wait for him to slid his feet into the straps of the saddle before she took off. Despite the small injuries that adorned her, she did not seem to be suffering from anything serious which made him glad for but a moment before his attention returned to Galbatorix.

_Is he trying to escape? _He thought as he stared at Shruikan, the injured black dragon winging its way towards the center of the city. Eragon blinked. No, the king was not trying to escape. He was trying to close the connection between the physical and spiritual Alagaësia. _We must fly faster. _

_Then take our energy and do so, _Umaroth said and true to his words, the dragon and Eldunarí began to channel their energy into Saphira. Through the presence, he realized that Glaedr had been rather subdued and with a start, he did not see the golden dragon anywhere near the battle. Had something happened to them? The moment the thought crossed his mind however, Saphira had closed in on Shruikan's large tail. The black dragon tried to swipe her across the snout but she dodged.

Knowing that she could not get too close, Eragon crouched on the saddle. He felt Saphira's reluctance and her uncertainty but he did not hesitate. There was no room for hesitation. He had to do what he must. With that thought in mind, he leapt into the air and twisted about before landing on Shruikan. Then without breaking his stride, he ran up the dragon's long spine and Brisingr twisting in his hand as Galbatorix turned to him, he impaled his sword on the king's right shoulder as the two of them went tumbling from the saddle and downwards towards the center of the city falling through the air.

Trying to maintain his grip on Brisingr, a grunt escaped him when Galbatorix drove Vrangr through his left leg. Then he tugged the blade back as his free hand reached up to grip Brisingr and pull the blue blade out of his shoulder. Free of each other, the two of them continued to fall through the air and thinking that he would be crushed by his fall, Eragon was surprised when the voices spoke once more and instead of crashing into the stone, he alighted softly on the ground, wincing as his left leg took the weight of his body. Panting heavily, Eragon turned his head as cries from those crowded in the streets reached his ears and all about him, he heard the sound of shuffling feet as the warriors began to back away from the center of the city.

Across from him, he saw Galbatorix rise to his feet his face pale but a sense of delirium pouring from his features. Both of their eyes stopped on Vrangr in the center of the sapphire colored circle in which the sword continued to glow, connecting with the sky. Without another word the two of them made their way towards the center, their feet carrying each other together. When they were but within a few feet of each other, Eragon swung Brisingr in a wide arch as Galbatorix brought his sword up to parry. He wasn't going to let the king get close to Vrangr. The moment they were within the confines of the gate, the ground began to shake as they fought each other and when Galbatorix in his urgency made to grab the hilt of Vrangr, Eragon had skewered his wrist with Brisingr twisting the king's arm about and away from his sword. The blood that fell caused the circle to pulse, distorting slightly before shifting out once more.

"When will you understand?" growled Eragon as he freed Brisingr to once more clash his sword with the Vrangr in Galbatorix's hand. "You cannot escape now Galbatorix. There is nothing left for you to rely on. There are no more unfair advantages or shameful victories. There is nothing and no one for you to use anymore." He thought of the Ra'zac, Durza, Asura, Jeremiah, Faust, and the children. With the energy that suffused him, he threw Galbatorix back and out of the circle heaving slightly as Galbatorix turned, his eyes catching sight of something beside Eragon that made his pause.

All about them, no one dared to move and in the crowd he saw them, his companions, his allies, and his friends. He saw Roran standing beside Angela and Solembum, their expressions hard with determination as they stared at him. They were bloodied and rather battered but they had yet to give in. His eyes moved on stopping for a split second to rest on Islanzadí, noticing that she was wielding Naegling in her hand. Unable to let any sort of sorrow overwhelm him, his eyes saw the silver armor standing beside her, closer than norm. Close behind her was Orik and his guards and they were watching with hard eyes for the final moment to come. Eragon turned his head slightly and saw his servants remaining close together. They were streaked with crimson and their armor was sliced through and cut up but they were still fighting—fighting to their last.

And finally his eyes stopped to rest on Nasuada as she sat atop her charger. She did not seemed wounded but he saw something in her expression that made his resolve harden. She was waiting on baited breath for the death of the man who had drive her father to his grave through his manipulations. There was a mix of hope and utter faith in her expression, for she believed in. Then it struck him that they were all waiting for him. They were waiting for him to deliver the justice that was stolen from them for a century. They were waiting to see that their anguish from their pain and loss would be repaid.

_Eragon. _

He turned and felt his eyes widened at the sight of a tall and proud elf beside him. He wore gleaming armor and his eyes flickered to Galbatorix pinning him with a long look of what seemed to be pity before he turned to Eragon and held out his hand. Unsure of what to do, Eragon reached out and took the elf's hand and watched as he disappeared into him. Immediately recognition flooded through him from Umaroth as dragon and Rider were once more connected through the boundaries between the living and dead. The elf he had just seen was Vrael. _Let us fight together, _Vrael whispered over the river of voices.

As he tried to regain control of his thoughts, he glanced upwards as Shruikan freed himself from Saphira, Eridor, and Thorn and swooped down grabbing Galbatorix up in his paw as the beats of his wings buffeted everywhere. It was like a storm had swept through. There was a clap like thunder and an torrent of air as Shruikan had swept Galbatorix up and was arching upwards towards the sky as if trying to find a way to escape through the heavens.

"Eragon!" he heard Murtagh's voice and saw Thorn bearing down on the center of the city. Throwing any sort of hesitation to the side, he jumped despite the agony building up in his left leg and his free hand that was not gripping Brisingr gripped his brother's hand and Murtagh tugged and with a shout, his force combined with Thorns pushed him upwards through the air. "Win!"

_We will, _thought Eragon as his grip tightened on Brisingr. All about him, he saw the transparencies of the dragons fly towards him and one by one, he felt them all within him, merging with his mind as he flew through the air still being propelled by Murtagh's strength. Such a great amount of energy flowed through him, it was hard to imagine that he wasn't capable of flying without wings. Glancing up as a shadow came over him, his heart clenched at the sight of Eridor and Arya. She bent down, one hand still gripping the Dauthdaert while the other was reaching for him. Despite their situation, despite the battle going on about them, he felt her warmth wash over him, soothing against the voices in his mind as they all shouted for an end to Galbatorix.

But Arya wasn't shouting at him to kill Galbatorix. Her feelings were enough to tell him differently. She wanted to see an end to Galbatorix but more importantly, she wanted to see a start of a new future together with him. He felt his lips pull slightly at the corner as their hands met. Her fingers despite being wrapped in leather were warm and familiar. His eyes sought hers and he felt himself being pulled into the deep emeralds. They were blazing with emotions all of which he could recognize: hope, determination, and most importantly love. Her hand tightened about his as she pulled him upwards saying in the ancient language, "_Fly." _

Releasing her hand, he nodded and turned his head upwards as her magic propelled him higher and higher. But Shruikan and Galbatorix were still higher up than he was. But that could be easily amended for as he streaked through the air, the wind whistling past him, he saw Saphira, her blue scales gleaming brightly in the sunlight. She flew upwards, unafraid of the ebony tear above them, careful not to near the golden light that was still connected with the center of the city. _Saphira…_

As he flew, he felt his heart reach out for his companion—the first friend he had ever had in his life. He remembered the time when she had hatched for him and how she had stayed by his side not only due to their bond but due to her devotion and affections towards him. She had never left him to face something by himself. She had continued to fight with him even knowing that it was painful and hard. Saphira, who was strong when he was not, had fought for him since the day she hatched. From a young hatchling that could barely hunt for herself to the powerful and majestic creature before him, she stayed with him through everything.

When he neared her, he reached up and wrapped his free hand about a spike on her neck, narrowing his eyes against the wing as her wings furiously beat about them, giving them leverage. Keeping a tight grip on her spike, he thought of the freedom she had given him. It was Saphira who had gave him the wings to leave his prison that was Urû'baen. She had shown him the world beyond the walls of the city and he was grateful, so very grateful to her.

Above them, Shruikan let loose a river of flames that Saphira easily flew about and as they neared, the black dragon tipped forward and began to descend on them as if to ram Saphira out of the sky. The voices in his head grew into an echoing roar as they told him to prepare himself. His bonded partner did not falter, instead she continued to fly upwards to meet Shruikan as he gathered his resolve. Bracing his legs against the saddle, he bent his knees as she swerved to the side to avoid the large jaws of Shruikan.

_You have grown wings of your own Eragon, _she said her voice proud and fierce, _Now use them and fly. _

She did not need to say more. Pushing off against the saddle, he propelled himself forward and narrowly missed being eaten alive by Shruikan. Flying over his shoulder, he saw Galbatorix raise Vrangr and with an upward arch of Brisingr, he knocked the pale blade from the king's hands and with his free hand grabbed Galbatorix, freeing him from the saddle as Shruikan continued to dive downwards intent on killing Saphira and the other dragons. He felt Galbatorix push against him and shout in the ancient language propelling him downwards causing him to lose his momentum as he began to fall through the sky. His time had run out and as he fell, he felt someone reach out for him.

The voice was soft and as she spoke, his entire body flashed with recognition. _Your world…fight for it. _

It was as if someone had launched him from a catapult for he felt himself propel through the air towards Galbatorix, faster than he could manage himself with Saphira's help or with magic. He saw a flash of shock in Galbatorix's eyes but did not dwell on it. Flourishing his sword over his head, he took in a deep breath before a shout left him, "_Brisingr!" _

A sizzle ran through his sword and the sapphire blade erupted into flames, bright and powerful. As he neared Galbatorix, he pushed out with his mind and with the help of the others within him closed it about the king, separating him from his Eldunarí as he allowed their thoughts to connect. _Understand Galbatorix all the pain that you have caused, _thought Eragon as he let the memories of the dead wash over the king, the man immobilized by the in pour of thoughts and emotions.

He was the reason for the century of anguish and sorrow.

Eragon could never comprehend what was loss over the hundred years since Galbatorix came into power. Though there were physical losses such as Vroengard and those who fought against Galbatorix, there was also a change in the people, in the way of life, in the land itself. He had deprived others of happiness, had horded everything to himself and called himself a king. _A king exists for his people not for himself. _And Eragon had been ignorant of it until he met Arya, until he left the Empire, until he joined the Varden. He did not understand the sorrows of other people but he did within the short time outside of the Empire, he grew to understand.

He understood sadness and the struggle against it. He saw it in everyone and felt as if he was being crushed by all their hopes. Those who couldn't fight for themselves asked others that could to fight for them. And he would fight for them. He would fight for them and all those who could not fight and those who did but were cut down. It was in this moment, when the dead and the living had joined that he realized just how deeply emotions could stem. Feelings such as love conquered death. They lived on after death and this was proof. He felt their emotions pour through him and into Galbatorix preventing him for speaking coherently as he cried out with the pain of a hundred years of memories, pain, and loss.

With a yell, he stabbed Brisingr upwards watching as the blazing blade sunk through Galbatorix's armor over his heart until the hilt met the metal of his armor. A cry of agony was torn from Galbatorix and he let out a yell in the ancient language composing a line that Eragon could not hear but there was a bright white light that erupted with his scream enveloping the both of them and then the sky no longer existed and it was just Eragon facing a pained Galbatorix who was fighting the emotions of the memories. Their eyes met and in the king's eyes he saw defeat and the anger of defeat.

And then it was gone in a bright flash and when his mind failed him, he thought of Arya and Murtagh and hoped that they had managed to kill Shruikan and finally end the battle that a century's worth of effort had built up towards. As he continued to fall, he heard the voices in his head speaking to him. His dull mind registered their thoughts of gratitude and then he heard their heartfelt thanks for he had freed them from their past and had freed Alagaësia and its people from sorrow.

_It was the beginning._

**I would say take five minutes, bask in what you've read and then start thinking. (Hahaha) The wrapping up of the battle will come in the next chapter. I don't really want to put my thoughts of the final battle in this story out there. Apart from saying that this is the moment in which Eragon overcomes the final barrier with the help of all those who he had met on the journey and all those who had died leading him there, I will leave you all to your own thoughts. I think its more poetic when a reader can draw their own interpretations from a story and it's always more meaningful because it shows just how far the reader has come reading along. Anyways, please await the last few chapters of this story my readers. I'll see you all soon! **


	106. Chapter 102

Chapter 102

**We're just inching our way towards the end everyone...So this is the chapter after Galbatorix is killed and as expected it cleans up some loose ends. All of the politics are in the next chapter and then there will be a few after words that sort of shows what's to come (if I do make a sequel). It'll be like those chapters that explain things and yet leaves several thoughts and ideas for interpretation if you all catch my drift. (Inheritance=CP) R&R! **

An explosion rocketed the sky that sent the dragons tumbling through the air, their wings helpless against the torrent of wind that came forth above them. It was in this moment that Arya saw the opening before her and she took it. It went against her nature and what she believed in to be true but there was no other way. Gripping Eridor's spike before her as he tried to right himself in the air, she saw Shruikan below them, his large wings caught by the torrent of air that continued to curl about them making flight nigh impossible. Her grip on the Dauthdaert in her hands tightened. _I am sorry. _Uttering a shout that could be heard above the lashes of wind, Arya threw the Dauthdaert into the center of Shruikan's great, gleaming ice-blue eye and she watched as the full length of the spear was buried into his skull.

Shruikan bellowed and twitched, and the slowly stilled in the air as the explosion above them ceased. She watched as the black dragon began to fall through the sky before his large mass fell against the cathedral, not longer moving. She saw the ground shutter as he collapsed, motionless against the stone building.

Then suddenly all was silent and still.

A few seconds passed before she heard the city below them erupt into raucous cheers. Her heart still beating rapidly in her chest and her blood pounding through her veins, all Arya could do was stare at the fallen black dragon, easily seen against the stone city. Her mind did not want to register that she had killed a dragon. She had done something that both revolted her and yet filled her with a sense of purpose. She had saved Shruikan even though she had killed him. Arya knew upon first glance that Shruikan was gone beyond the point of saving. He was not crazed like Fundor was but he was twisted. He was but an empty shell of himself forced to serve Galbatorix until the end of his days. Still…

_I am a dragonkiller now. _

Repulsed at the thought, she shook it away as she heard the voices speak to her once more telling her that it was done and over with, that she had fulfilled her duty bravely and with all the dignity her race possessed. _You did what you must Arya, _said Eridor not faulting her as he righted his position in the air. _We do not hold it against you. Have you not killed Shruikan, he would have killed us. _

_He is only but a dragon in appearances Arya, _Thorn added. The ruby dragon was hovering beside them. _Galbatorix has twisted his mind and enslaved him. Without freedom, one cannot be called a dragon. And because of that Shruikan was not. _

She wanted to thank them but could not find it in herself to do so. Instead, she glanced upwards at the empty sky and the ebony tear about them. Panic welled in her. Eragon. Where was Eragon? Shifting in her saddle, she glanced about as she her ears drowned out the noise of cheer and happiness in Urû'baen. She couldn't share in the relief and joy yet, in the happiness that they had done something that they had little hope of even achieving. _Eragon, where are you? _

_There is Saphira, _Eridor flapped his wings orientating them in the direction of where a sapphire mass was crouched about the ground near a pile of rubble close to the citadel. Without waiting for her words, Eridor flew forward. She turned to Murtagh as they began to separate.

_You should see to Nasuada and our forces, _said Arya. He stared at her for a long moment, his expression hard before he nodded. With a soft sound, Thorn turned about and began to wing his way towards the rear lines.

He had to be fine thought Arya worried as she caught sight of Saphira's bent head as if she was trying to shelter something. With ease, Eridor alighted on the rubble beside her causing her to lift her snout, her sapphire eyes sparkling. Hastily sliding from Eridor's saddle, Arya started forward questioning the dragon. But she merely waved away Arya's concerns with her warn thoughts. Instead, Saphira merely gestured towards the body resting atop the rubble, _he is sleeping. _

Not knowing what to expect, she carefully climbed her way to the top of the rubble to find Eragon resting at the top in a rather uncomfortable position. His hair was signed at the left side and there was a red rawness to his left cheek, the skin burned away. Blood trickled down his chin as he laid with his head resting against the rock behind him at an angle. His breastplate was dented and his left leg was bleeding profusely but otherwise he appeared whole and alive. She saw the breath of air that left his lips and relief suffused her so great that she almost collapsed onto her knees before him. Instead, she merely crouched beside him.

Tugging off her leather gloves, she tossed them to the side. "Eragon," murmured Arya, as she leaned forward to place a soft hand on the uninjured side of his face. "Eragon, you need to wake. You cannot simply fall asleep in the middle of such a place," she gently patted his face watching as his eyes began to shift under his lids. "Wake Eragon, there is still much to be done."

At her words a soft groan left his lips and his eyelids tiredly fluttered open. She waited watching his dazed expression cleared before he lifted his eyes to meet her gaze, he coughed slightly as he tilted his head to the side, "I want to sleep for weeks Arya," he said tiredly as she felt her lips curl up. She would think about the fact that she had killed Shruikan later. Now though, all of her efforts for the past seventy years had finally met a greater end and it was the man before her who had saw to it that her efforts—everyone's efforts for the past century—was not in vain. "Can we not just let Nasuada handle all the politics?"

"That is not an attitude becoming of the leader of the Dragon Riders," said Arya gently as she reached behind his head to gently prop him against her hand, holding his neck straight since he appeared to be having trouble doing so himself. After a moment, she leaned forward, her crouch giving way as she knelt beside him, holding his head against the crook of her neck. "You did it Eragon. You defeated Galbatorix…You won."

He was quiet for a moment before he shook his head and his tired voice reached her ears, "No, we did," Eragon amended, "Alagaësia, the Varden, you and Murtagh…we all did it together. I was just the one to deliver the blow that killed him…where is he?"

She allowed him to pull his head back to crane his neck about searching for Galbatorix's corpse. Both of their eyes darted about but all they could find was Brisingr embedded in the rubble a few yards away and past Eragon's sword, her eyes fell on the pale blade that Galbatorix had stolen from Vrael after he had killed him, Islingr or rather Vrangr. "The spell that he released the moment you killed him burnt away his body," said Arya as her eyes darted upwards towards the sky, "I do not think he wished for us to have his body even in death to pass judgment on."

At her words, Eragon made a sound of agreement, "Galbatorix was always like that. He always believed himself to be above all else whether or not it is in living or death. In all honesty, however, I am glad he decided to destroy himself in the end. I did not wish to have to gaze upon his body anymore than necessary."

"You are a kingkiller now," Arya said softly as she tilted her head back slightly to stare at him and his reaction. He merely gazed back up at her. His brows furrowed and she watched as he reached up to place a gloved hand on her neck, feeling her pulse which was still beating unevenly from the adrenaline that still coursed through her mixed with her feelings or relief, gladness, and revulsion.

Understanding how she felt his hand left her neck and traveled until his fingers gripped her right hand—the hand in which she had thrown the Dauthdaert at Shruikan. He gave them a gentle squeeze. "You did what you had to Arya," he said softly, "Killing Shruikan is not a sin that you will have to carry. It is a gift that you have given him—to Alagaësia herself. It had, no doubt, pained her to see one of her children treated as such since the moment he was born. You have freed Shruikan from his rage and blood thirst. He will be able to rest now in Her sanctuary."

His words touched her and she found herself nodding somewhat relieved but the thought still gripped at her. It tethered at the edge of her thoughts but with unerring strength she pushed it aside as she felt Eragon pull her to him and she half fell atop of him as he embraced her for a moment. She heard his intake of breath before he relaxed against her. As the two of them stayed together in their embrace, they started when Saphira let out an joyful cry.

_The eggs! _Crowed Saphira in utter joy her entire body shaking.

About to pull back from Eragon to question Saphira, she stilled when she felt his breath on her ear as he spoke to her quietly in the ancient language. What she heard made her heart stop for a few seconds and then pick up once more. There were two hundred and forty-three eggs still hidden on Vroengard. She felt her body thrum with excitement. Yes, she may have killed Shruikan, a precious dragon despite his twisted nature. But in turn, they had gained a means to return the dragons to their former glory. They would survive, and flourish, and return to what they once were before the fall of the Riders.

Allowing herself a few more moments with Eragon, she pulled away much to his protest and began to study his injured left leg which was still bleeding from the wound that Galbatorix had inflicted him. She dared not use the ancient language to heal his leg, not knowing if it had righted itself after Galbatorix had altered it. Instead, she gently pulled his armor from his left leg. Then grabbing a piece of cloth from her saddle bags, she began to wound it about his injury trying to staunch that wound for Eragon was beginning to look pale at the blood loss.

"Rest for a moment," said Arya as she gently stroked his hair. He nodded, closing his eyes. With great ease, she stepped about him and went to retrieve Brisingr and with slight hesitation, Vrangr as well. She was not sure who would hold onto Galbatorix's sword but it belonged to Eragon, for he had killed the king and earned the right to keep Vrangr as a reminder of his feat. It was saddening to believe that such a sword was once a sword that delivered justice to the people of Alagaësia. When she had returned to Eragon's side, she found him dozing.

Prodding him awake despite his protests, she wounded an arm about his waist and helped him to his feet allowing him to lean against her. "Take me to the center Arya," he said his eyes bright despite his exhaustion. "I must close the gate."

"Then let us go."

Instructing him where to place his feet, the two of them climbed down the rubble together and began to make their way towards the center. All about them, they caught sight of the Empire's soldiers surrendering and laying their weapons down after seeing for themselves the death of their king. At the sight of them, they were hailed by their allies as they went about routing the city and rounding up the men. All about them, they gave the four a wide berth as to not step into their way as they made their way through the narrow streets towards the center. When they emerged from the street onto the center courtyard she blinked relief washing her as she saw those whom she considered friends and important allies waiting for them.

At the sight of her mother unharmed and well, Arya's knees nearly wanted to give out. She had not been killed in the fighting. She had survived unlike Evandar did a century ago. Her heartfelt relief was reflected on her mother's face as she caught sight of Arya and Eragon as the two of them made their way to the leaders. Her eyes darted to the silver armor that stood beside her mother, a hand resting delicately on her shoulders and felt her lips curl slightly. Who could that be that was standing rather indecently close to the elf queen? But her thoughts were interrupted when Murtagh had came forward from Nasuada's side to meet them.

"You are alive brother," he said with a smile, relief pouring through his features. Eragon nodded glancing at Murtagh before his eyes swept the front of their lines moving from one leader to the next, until he frowned.

"That I am but where is King Orrin?" asked Eragon.

Amongst the leaders, the only one missing was Orrin. Murtagh frowned, "His majesty was injured with a bolt to the chest and the elves are currently treating to his wounds. I have heard news that he shall pull through."

"And Master Oromis?" asked Arya not spotting their teacher amongst their ranks.

"They are trying to save him but I have heard word that he is fighting a sudden bought of fever from his wounds," said Murtagh sadly his expression pained. Arya blinked at the news while Eragon scowled, his expression clearly saying that he was cursing whoever put their master in such a state into the deepest pits of Hell. The three of them made their way over to their leaders to which they greeted and pulling himself away from her, Eragon turned stumbling slightly as he placed his weight on his injured left leg. When she made to help him he shook his head and they watched as he turned and with short steps made his way into the sapphire circle that glowed on the ground.

Vrangr glowed even bright at his approach and the ground began to shake. Half worried and half anxious, Arya merely watched as Eragon stopped a few feet away from the circle. He then slowly knelt on one knee as if he was facing a person and that was when she saw her rise from the gloom and slowly an alien hymn began to fill the air, growing in volume until it surrounded them and began one with the air that they breathed. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched entranced as a tall figure emerged from the circle. Her appearance surprised Arya. In Eragon's memory Alagaësia had depicted herself as Arya but standing before them was a woman who appeared as if she was between human and elf. Her hair was a pale blond that fell to her face, her ears were pointed, her eyes were round and level, and her features soft. But her piercing blue eyes stood out the most. It was an ocean of wisdom that Arya had never before seen in another person.

She took another step towards them and the ground trembled and the air vibrated about them. Instinctively, Arya found herself kneeling on one knee as all about her they paid their respects to the person before—to Alagaësia. Nothing was said as they gazed up at her in awe of what they saw. Here she was, the mother of their land, the very land they fought for. Her eyes swept over them, they rested on Islanzadí before darting to Arya. Her stared pinned her to the ground and her body trembled with recognition as Alagaësia gazed upon her. It was as if she could see through Arya, as if she could understand her and that made the woman before her all the more dangerous for she held the fate of their world in her hands.

"You have succeeded," her soothing voice flowed with authority and she heard her body ache to do what it was Alagaësia would command of her as her entire being resonated with the sound of such a voice. "You have fought for me and victory is yours. I am proud of you, my children." She smiled and it was as if the sun was shining down upon Alagaësia as she spoke. Her eyes swept across them once more before they traveled to the streets that were filled with bodies of both friend and foe and a saddened expression took hold of her. "But your loss has been great. I cannot bring back the dead, but I can ease your pain."

Elegantly brining her left hand upwards, she stared at them with her pained blue eyes. A minute passed and Arya blinked when she felt a drop of water land on her head. Despite the sun that was high up in the sky and the ebony tear that disrupted the teal blue, rain was beginning to fall on them. But it wasn't mere rain. She watched in surprise as Eragon's left leg was wrapped in a golden light before it faded and though she could not see the wound being healed, his expression was enough to tell her that it was. All about them, she heard cries of wonder as the wounded were being healed by the rain that Alagaësia was blessing them with.

She was washing away the blood that came with the battle and was in turn healing them. A warm feeling enveloped her upper right arm and the cut that Galbatorix had dealt her was no longer existent. This was a phenomena that was going to be spoke of for centuries to come thought Arya awed as she stared at the rain that fell against her hands. Minutes passed in which they all knelt before Alagaësia, allowing her to heal them before she lowered her hand and the moment she did a few seconds passed before the rain cleared.

"My time here is limited," said Alagaësia as she gazed upon them taking a few more steps forward, "This world is not mine no longer and as such I do not belong here. That does not deter my joy in seeing the races of this land united." She smiled at them as if she were gazing upon her children before her eyes turned to Eragon and she spoke to him and to him only. "You have done a great services to my first children, the dragons, Eragon Shadeslayer. If there is anything that you may desire, I shall grant it if it is within my power."

Arya's eyes darted to Eragon's back as he knelt a few paces before her but she saw the tension in the leaders at the words spoken by Alagaësia. Alagaësia was a greater power than any of them combined. If she gave Eragon her blessings as the new leader of Alagaësia, they would be hard pressed to go against Alagaësia but Arya was not worried for Eragon was never one to desire titles. She heard his soft voice murmur a few sentences and watched as a smile graced Alagaësia. She nodded and lifted her hand once more speaking in the alien language of the hymn. Whatever it was the Eragon had asked of her would be a matter to be discussed later for Alagaësia rested a hand on his head as if to bless him before she stepped past him and made her way to the leaders of the races.

She spoke first to Islanzadí but she did so in the ancient language therefore not divulging what it was she was saying to those who did not understand the language. "We are well met Islanzadí Dröttning. I have felt you and your people's devotion to the land and I am grateful that you have sought to nourish it through your practice. You have fought long and hard and were the first to bond with my children. Your race has sought to bring about order and prosperity to Alagaësia. I thank you Islanzadí." She touched her mother's brow with the tip of her fingers. Islanzadí murmured her heartfelt words of gratitude to which Islanzadí received with ease before she moved onwards to Orik.

Instead of the ancient language, she spoke to the dwarf king in the rough dwarf language to all of their surprises. She repeated the same gesture to Orik, touching his brow before she swept onwards. Alagaësia understood the races thought Arya as she stared at the embodiment of the land before them. She was able to speak in the Urgal's tongue and never before had Arya seen an Urgal so humbled as she did then. Her conversation with Grimrr was silent and no doubt mentally before she finally stopped at Nasuada.

"You have shown yourself most capable of leading your people Nasuada, Daughter of Ajihad," she spoke in the human tongue then. "For a woman at such a tender age, you have shown your strengths and your capabilities as the leader of the Varden. You have fought diligently for your people and have led the march for freedom. You have my thanks dear child, you have done much for this land and it shall never be forgotten." She touched Nasuada on the brow and them with a final smile swept away. She then in turn touched the dragons upon their snouts before she returned to the sapphire circle and the moment she did so, the silver armor beside her mother shifted and bursting forth from the metal were several spirits. They all hovered about Eragon momentarily before they joined Alagaësia within the circle. She stared at them for a long moment as she brought a hand up to caress a glowing green orb.

Then her voice echoed about them, soothing, understanding, and proud. _This world is yours now. _

And she was gone. They all stared at where she once stood perplexed before there was a sweeping of feet as they moved to their feet. Eragon turned to stare at them with a serious expression, then he spoke, "It is time to close the gate," he said his eyes darted to the silver armor that stood beside Islanzadí. "If you would like to say your farewells, please take this moment to do so."

Everyone about her began to shift on their feet, closing their eyes taking on an expression of deep thoughtfulness. Unsure of what to do, Arya walked towards her mother watching as she turned her eyes to the silver armor, her emerald eyes wide and soft. Curiosity sparked in Arya as she stopped by her mother unsure of how to address the armored person before her. Islanzadí turned to her and smiled, a film of tears in her eyes.

"Mother, what is amiss?" asked Arya in surprise at the expression on her face. She did not speak but rather gestured towards the person before her. Bewildered, Arya turned her eyes to the person staring up at the silver helm then to her surprise, the person reached up to take her face in their leather hands and she was about to knock them away before a familiar warmth enveloped her and a voice spoke in her mind that made her freeze on the spot.

_Arya, I am very proud of you. _

She swallowed thickly and instead of the silver armor, she saw her father standing before her tall and proud. The armor gave way as he stepped away from it, falling uselessly to the ground. His stern eyes were bright and a smile graced his features. Those words, she had wanted to hear those words for so long. His hands which were on her face, were like whispers of wind against her skin. She could not feel the warmth of flesh but the coolness of a presence. She tried to speak but her words failed her and her breath hitched, eyes stinging as she stared at Evandar. He was the reason why she had left Du Weldenvarden, had taken up the post of ambassador, and had fought so hard to this day. She had wanted to see her father avenged. Never before had she thought she would see him again.

But here he was telling her he was proud of her and all her efforts were enough. It was enough to have this one moment with her father whom was taken from her when she was younger. _You have protected our people, have fought to end the reign of a king that has wrought sorrow on Alagaësia, and you have sought to avenge me even knowing that I would never ask of you such a request. You have done well my beautiful daughter. _

A tear fell from her eyes as a sob left her lips, almost instinctively, she reached up to touch her father on his face but she caught herself knowing that her hand would only go through him. His smile never faltered as he stared down at her. "Father," she blinked as another tear fell. But whatever she wanted to say was washed away for she did not know anymore. All she knew was that she was glad that in this moment, her family was reunited.

_Your life is yours now, _he said leaning forward to brush his lips against her temple. She only felt a cool breeze against her skin but it was enough. Nodding, she stared up at him as he lowered his hands before turning to her mother. Arya watched as he stepped forward and sought to hug her mother close to him by wrapping his arms about her shoulder careful not to move too close so that he would pass through her. She did not hear the words exchanged between them nor did she want to for it was their privacy. A moment passed before he pulled away, smiling proudly at them both. They he began to walk away from them and towards the circle in which Eragon now stood at the center gripping the pommel of Brisingr.

It was not just Arya and Islanzadí who were saying their farewells to a lost loved one but all around she saw the souls of the dead return to the circle. She even glimpsed Ajihad and King Hrothgar in the transparencies. Her eyes were latched on her father, however, and she felt her mother wrap her arms about her as they watched Eragon slowly pulled Vrangr from the ground breaking the connection. The sapphire circle on the ground began to glow and Arya watched as her father began to disappear as the ebony tear in the sky started to fade.

It was not with a heavy heart that she watched her father leave. She felt at peace with herself for the first time in seventy years. _Arya, I am very proud of you._ Her eyes stung and she wished that she had told her father how much she loved him but she knew that in that one moment they shared that Evandar knew how much he meant to her, and she knew how much she meant to him. It was enough and she would not ask for more.

With a final tug, Eragon pulled Vrangr free from the ground and there was a flash of light that blinded them and when it subsided, all that was left was Eragon standing in the center of the courtyard holding Vrangr aloft in his hands. The golden connection with the sky was gone, the ebony tear had disappeared leaving the soft blue whole, and the sapphire circle had faded away. There was a sudden silence that came after the souls of the dead had departed leaving the world for the living once more. She watched as Bard stepped forward to hand him the scabbard of Vrangr. He thanked his servant and sheathed his blade before strapping it upon his back.

Eventually, it was Nasuada who broke the silence, "Those who are still capable of fighting, Galbatorix's men are fleeing as we speak! We must capture them! There is still much work to be done!" She continued to speak issuing commands to which her men followed gladly. They were now healed and rejuvenated with the blessings of Alagaësia and ready to offer their services once more.

Taking this moment, Arya turned to her mother still wrapped in her arms. "I shall go and assist where I can Mother," she said softly as she pulled away from her watching as her mother nodded. Her hand came up to rest against Arya's cheek and she spoke softly just as her father had before he had left.

"You have made me proud Arya," she said in the ancient language, "Do not dwell on the fact that you have slain Shruikan. You have done us all a great service even if it goes against what we believe in. Only know this my daughter, you have proven me wrong and I now see, the strong warrior that you have become."

"Your words mean much to me Mother," it touched her heart and she was glad that after so much bloodshed and uncertainty that they were together and that they were once more mother and daughter. They had all the time in the world after this to speak to one another and see to it that they made up for the seven decades that was lost to them. Her mother smiled softly and repeated her father's gesture by kissing her on the temple before drawing away to speak with her captains. She lingered for a moment longer before she made her way to Eragon as he watched their allies carry away with their tasks.

"The whole of Alagaësia shall see you differently now," said Arya as she approached him stopping a foot before him. He merely raised his brow as if not understanding what it was that she spoke, "You are the only one to ever achieve what you have today. It shall put you in a new light in the eyes of others."

"Perhaps," he agreed looking rather uneasy at the prospect. She smiled glad to know that the Eragon she came to know was still the same after everything he went through, though she would venture to say that he was slightly more mature.

"Where are your servants?" She had thought she'd seen Bard and the others about but they were nowhere in sight at the moment.

"Working," said Eragon with a smile. She only smiled back at him. With Galbatorix's death gone, there was a freedom about them that she could only enjoy in the moment. Staring up at him, Arya was about to be swept away with her emotions when a curious thought came to her.

"What is it that you've asked of Alagaësia?" she asked cautious of his answer.

"You shall see," said Eragon and as his words died out, she heard a joyful roar from the air and turned her head upwards to see Glaedr above them but as she took in his appearance, a change caught her eyes making her gasp. Rather than a stump, her eyes took in his left foreleg. He circled about the city once, twice, and thrice before letting forth another joyful bellow at the return of his lost limb during the fall of the Riders. He dipped down towards the center of the city and buffeting with great gusts of winds landed before them, his golden eyes sparkling as they landed on Eragon.

_Eragon, my thanks seem little in light of what you have done for us, _Glaedr spoke his voice overjoyed. Arya raised a brow at Eragon who merely smiled.

"I only wished to see my teachers healed," said Eragon, he paused, "How is Oromis-elda?"

_His body is undergoing change, _Glaedr answered blinking one large eye at them. _They believe that it will take him a day at most to regain consciousness. Once he is, his illness will no longer pain him for now Oromis is truly whole. _The golden dragon nudged Eragon with his snout. _I stand by what Umaroth said Eragon. You have become more than what we have hoped. _

"Thank you," Eragon murmured. The golden dragon peered down at him for a moment longer before he left to join Islanzadí and assist in whatever was that he could despite his large mass. Watching him leave, Arya turned to Eragon her eyes bright as she took a step closer to him until they were toe and toe with each other.

"You asked Alagaësia to heal Oromis and Glaedr?" she asked but she could tell from his conversation with Glaedr that he did. He nodded. Unable to help herself, she stepped forward and wrapped him in her embrace. Glaedr was right. Eragon had become more than what anyone could hope for. He had saved them all, had sacrificed and fought for all of them. After a long moment of standing together in each other's embrace, Arya pulled back slightly to stare up at him. Though he acted cold oftentimes, there was a kind selflessness to him. "If there is something that you want Eragon merely say it and I shall see if I can help."

He stared at her with hard eyes and said in a serious voice, "Sleep."

She laughed lightly, "Sadly enough I do not think I can help you in that particular area," she fought a smile as his brows raised as if questioning her abilities. "However, if we go about our tasks, I am sure others will be willing to let you sleep by the end of the day."

"One can only hope," Eragon sighed pulling away from to link their hands. "Let us find Murtagh as well as Blödhgarm and the others. There is much left in Galbatorix's treasure room for us to secure before we can let relax." He gently pulled on her hand and the two of them began to make their way towards the citadel together. The dragons had gone off to assist in killing or capturing any leftover soldier with the rest of the Varden therefore leaving the matters of Galbatorix's treasures to them.

"Eragon," he glanced at her as they walked, "Do you remember the true name of the ancient language?" She had heard it and had recognized it but it was a haze in her mind, a memory far off from her reaches that no matter how hard she tried to reach for it, it would merely elude her grasp.

He was silent for a moment before he shook his head, "I did not hear it from Galbatorix but Alagaësia told me," said Eragon with a troubled frown, "She had heard the true name and remembered it since Galbatorix's magic has no effect on her. Before she'd left, she had said that I would need it to help rebuild the world."

"You sound bothered," observed Arya quietly.

"It is a great amount of power that she had given em," said Eragon, "And with power comes responsibility. Oftentimes I believe that I am unfit for the tasks that are given to me. Surely, there is someone more capable."

She shook her head and felt conviction sweep over her as she spoke, "I do not believe so," she heard his snort and stopped in her steps turning him to face her, a serious expression on her face. She wanted Eragon to understand how important he was to her, to Alagaësia. He was no longer the resentful Eragon that she had met in the halls of Tronjheim. He had grown into someone more, someone whom everyone had come to rely on. "Eragon, you must see yourself for who you are now not for who you were. You are capable and you are worthy of your titles, of the respect from the people, and of the land itself. If you begin to doubt yourself, you will only start to cause others to falter."

He stared at her before a slight smile crossed his face as he nodded, "Then I shall strive even harder to avoid such," he paused before lifting her hand to his lips brushing his lips against the skin causing her to shiver slightly at the jolt that ran through her body. "Will you stay by my side?"

Her answer did not need any contemplation, "For as long as I can, forever if I am allowed."

"Then forever it is," he smiled a boyish smile that made her heart stutter for a moment and she felt her own lips curving upwards to return the sentiment. They had made it, the thought was finally seeping through her mind. Galbatorix, despite all impossibilities, was dead. They had won and ahead of them laid a life in which they would rebuild a lost world together. They did not have mere days together anymore. They did not have to constantly worry about death or its possibilities. The freedom that stretched ahead of them with tangible. There was a future beyond Urû'baen. And suddenly she remember the dreams that Eragon had once shown her.

Their future laid there, Arya thought feeling her blood warm at the possibilities of a family as they had spoke of before. Her hand tightened in his as she nodded, "Forever then."

**I'm rather excited and sad to see this story ending. It's actually very amazing how far this piece of work has come. Eventually when time permits, I'm going to go back and revise all the chapters to free it of any mistakes but I don't think I'll be focusing on that for some time. Once this story ends, I'll be working on another Inheritance Project (there's just so much you can do with the story!) But I won't be on top of it like I have been with this one. I'm also working on a real novel of my own (wish me there!) and then there's that backpacking trip I told you all about. But do expect to see more from me, I'm definitely going to write ExA more (like a reviewer said, I also like seeing them dance about each other). Anyways, I'll see you all soon! **


	107. Chapter 103

Chapter 103

**The wrappings of the story is coming up and I believe that the actual end of this story will be in the next chapter or the chapter after the next seeing as I still have to wrap several things up. In any case, after the 'end' I shall post up a couple of chapters that hints to the rebuilding that shall take place and the possibilities of an sequel. In any case, look forward to it everyone! (Oh and I shall also be posting the new details of my new story to follow this one at the last chapter!) R&R! **

_What happens next? _

It certainly was a question that plagued Eragon since the end of the battle for Urû'baen. He sighed as he climbed the steps of the green tower. It was close to sunset, and through the windows that pierced the curving wall to his right, he could see the shadow-stretched buildings of Urû'baen, as well as the hazy fields outside the city as he spiraled around, the dark mass of the stone hill that rose up behind it. He paused at a window taking in the city below that had been once a great part of his life. He was not lying when he thought that Urû'baen had better days.

The people were in a disarray and there was a sense of disbelief that pervaded the citizens of the Empire at the thought of their king—one that had ruled for a century—was now dead. The war was over but that did not mean that the fighting ended with it. There was still much left to do.

He had spent the entire day separated from his loved ones as he attended to the tasks at hand. The most important one was the reworking of the ancient language. He had spent an hour going through his knowledge of the ancient language and returning the words and their meanings to what it once was as to allow their spellcasters and magicians to use their magic once more. After he had reassured himself countless times that the language was safe to speak, he had set himself to the painful task of removing the spells Galbatorix had bound to the buildings and the people of the city. It took him an hour to root out all the enchantments in the city and cut any sort of relation of men and women to Galbatorix. He did not particularly care for what spell that was tied to them to the dead king whether it was an oath of fealty or enchantments to grant skills beyond the ordinary, he released them all. Eragon was adamant in destroying any type of presence that Galbatorix had in Urû'baen. Then after he finished rooting the city, he in turn went to lift the enchantments about the citadel so that he, Arya, Murtagh, and Blödhgarm and his spellcasters could enter the stone building and make their way to the treasure room without dying from one of Galbatorix's traps. He was rather creative in making the traps much more painful the deeper an uninvited visitor ventured. It was amusing to say that Galbatorix for all his might was still fearful of his enemies.

When he led them into the treasure room, it was safe to say that their expressions were one of immense awe as they beheld the vast treasures that Galbatorix had horded over the century. There were thousands of tomes from the ancient library on Vroengard, strange objects that worked in equally mystifying ways, a collection of the Rider's swords, and finally metal boxes that contained the hundreds of Eldunarí that Galbatorix had used for his own benefit. However, there was a moment of crisis when Eragon had released the wards on the treasure room that guarded the Eldunarí. Without Galbatorix's mind to enslave them or any of his spells to keep them hidden, the dragons immediately began to lash out and assail the minds of the people within the city, attacking without regard for who was friend or foe. In those moments, a great pall of dread spread over Urû'baen, causing everyone, even the elves, to crouch and turn white with fear.

In order to remedy such an unsettling attack, Eragon had asked for Blödhgarm and his spellcasters to take the Eldunarí from the city and far from the people so that the dragons' thoughts could no longer have a strong effect. Upon their departure, Glaedr had insisted that his Eldunarí and several of the Eldunarí from Vroengard be taken with the dragons so that they may quell their confusion. Though Eragon had his doubts that Glaedr could help those twisted by Galbatorix, he relented to the golden dragon's request and made the necessary arrangements to do so. Though he did not know Blödhgarm well enough, he knew that the elf had the necessary strength to protect the Eldunarí and trusted in the twelve spellcasters to do so while he attended to other matters.

As he walked up the steps of the spiraling stairs, Eragon grumbled to himself. He wanted to sleep. For the past few days it had been nearly impossible to rest due to his anxieties and worries. Yet he found himself being pulled from one corner of Urû'baen to the next to address matters that he was obligated to address. And despite all that needed to be done, he merely wanted to curl up on some sort of surface whether it be a mattress or the ground and rest for his body ached and his mind was weary. He sighed continuing to ascend the seemingly never ending stairs until at long last he reached the top of the winding path upwards. His calves and the backs of his ankles ached with the climb but he was only glad to be done of it as he approached the large, lancet door, black with age.

_Another battle is brewing, _thought Eragon tiredly as he stretched his eyes rapidly blinking to try. Clearing his mind, he took in a deep breath to fill his lungs before emptying it. Then he repeated the process twice more before steeling himself. Best to be done with it now. With Vrangr and Brisingr, as a comfortable presence against his body, Eragon lifted the latch, and pushed forward into the large round chamber atop the elven watchtower.

Waiting for him were eight people, along with the Thorn, Saphira, and Eridor: Arya and her mother as well as the silver-haired elf lord Däthedr, King Orrin, Nasuada, King Orik and Murtagh, Grimrr Halfpaw. They stood—or in the case of King Orrin, sat—in a widely spaced circle, with the dragons facing opposite the stairs, before the southern-facing window that had allowed them to land within the tower. The light from the dying sun streamed sideways through the chamber, illuminating the elven carvings upon the walls and the intricate pattern of colored stone set within the chipped floor. It resembled the nesting house on Vroengard thought Eragon in slight interest as he took in the expressions about the chamber. Every apart from the dragons and Grimrr appeared rather tense and uncomfortable. It was odd to believe that allies who had but fought in arms a few hours ago were no more than strangers at this very moment, all vying for the self interest on their own people and nation.

Arya was standing beside Queen Islanzadí's left hand, tense and her eyes hard set. He could see a gleam in her forest green eyes that often translated that something was bothering her. Or perhaps in this particular case someone was. Her mother, cleaned from the blood of the earlier fighting, stood tall and regal and her poise and demeanor made her stand out strikingly from her daughter. On her right hand was Däthedr who was tapping the pommel of his sword but otherwise his expression remained rather serene. Eyes flickering away from the elves, they landed on the next nearest person which was King Orrin. The king sat in a deep-seated chair, his chest which was healed from the rain that Alagaësia had blessed them with appeared intact despite the fact that he continued to rub it as if he was aching from his healed wound. He held a cup of wine in his right hand but despite the liqueur, his eyes were bright and focused. He glanced away from Orrin and to Orik who stood with his hands folded atop the butt of Volund's haft. Behind him Murtagh was watching the others with uneasy eyes with his hand wrapped about the hilt of Zar'roc. His eyes kept darting to Nasuada for she stood a distance away from him with her arms crossed about her chest. While they were all rather tense and weary of each other, Grimrr merely stared out the window seemingly oblivious to the tension in the chamber.

He had half the mind to back out of the chamber as they all turned to look at him the moment he opened the door. Unsure of whether or not they had been waiting in the tense silence that greeted him, Eragon spoke cautiously, "I apologize for my lateness," said Eragon as he closed the door behind him. He caught Arya's eyes and she spared him a slight smile as Orik trundled up to him gripping his forearm.

"I knew you could kill him! Well done! Tonight we celebrate, eh! Let the fires burn bright, and let our voices ring forth until the heavens themselves echo with the sound of our feasting," he said with a smile as he clapped Eragon on the arm. Rather than make way for Saphira, Eragon turned and went to stand by Nasuada's right hand. He was still her vassal despite his accomplishments and as such he needed to stand by her just as Murtagh stood by Orik and Arya by her mother. They had their duties to perform until order was established in Alagaësia, then they can turn to the rebuilding of the Riders. Greeting Saphira, he extended a tendril of thought to Umaroth and the other Eldunarí to which they greeted him shortly before turning their attentions back to the discussion that was about to take place.

No one in the room seemed willing to speak first. Seeing that no one was making an effort to lay their thoughts out Eragon reached into his pocket to pull out an apple that he had pocketed earlier, intending to fill his stomach with some sort of sustenance since he was feeling rather dead on his feet. If Orrin was sipping his wine, an apple wouldn't hurt anyone. He took a bite, the crunching louder than he had expected. Arya's eyes flickered to him and she raised her brow just slightly at his actions. He shrugged at her. If no one was speaking, he was going to eat his apple. He took another crunch, the sound digging into everyone's ears. Then another loud crunch. As he ate, he could feel the tension in the room grow as they all contemplated what it was they wanted to say. Taking one last bite of his apple, he tossed the core from the open window.

Finally it was Islanzadí who spoke when silence blanketed them all once more. "We have a decision to make," she said her eyes flickering about the room.

"Aye," rumbled Orik.

Orrin smiled a bitter, mocking smile as he turned to face Islanzadí, "I would like to hear how you think we should proceed Queen Islanzadí." He tilted his head to the side as if parsing down the elf queen to better understand her nature.

Islanzadí was unperturbed by his words and merely pinned a stare on him as she spoke, "There is no hiding that Galbatorix is dead. Even now, word of our victory wings its way across the land. By the end of the week, Galbatorix's demise shall be known throughout the greater part of Alagaësia."

"As it should be," said Nasuada. Despite the impressive display of Islanzadí's appearance, Nasuada was by no means a lesser of being to the queen in dignity and regality. Though she did not possess the unearthly beauty that Islanzadí did, Nasuada was strong and proud and it brought forth an aura of a leader, true and powerful.

"As it should be," said Islanzadí, her voice strong and clear. "However, as people learn that Galbatorix has fallen, the first question they shall ask is who has taken his place. We must provide them with an answer now before unrest begins to spread. It is important that we quell any rumors before they can cause harm. To delay would be disastrous. We cannot allow every lord with a measure of troops to believe that he can set himself up as a ruler of his own petty monarchy. Should that happen, he Empire will disintegrate into a hundred different kingdoms. None of us want that. A successor must be chosen—chosen and named, however difficult that may be."

Without turning around, Grimrr said, "You cannot lead a pack if you are weak."

_No you cannot, _Eragon agreed with the werecat who did not seem interested in the affairs about him. Eragon blinked his eyes darting between Orrin and Nasuada, the two eligible successors that he was able to pick out from the chamber. The rest were not human or had their own duties to attend to. Orrin was in contention thought Eragon as his eyes flickered to the king but so was Nasuada.

"And what part do you seek to play in this, Queen Islanzadí, Arya, Lord Däthedr? Or you, King Orik? Or you, King Halfpaw? We are grateful for your friendship and your help, but this is a matter for humans to decide, not you. We rule ourselves, and we do not let others choose our kings," the message was clear thought Eragon. He may not like politics but he understood the workings of it well enough.

It was Nasuada who spoke next. "I agree. This is something we must settle on our own," she looked at the elves, "Surely you can understand. The business of appointing a new king or queen is the essentials to the workings of a sustainable rule that. It is the epitome of self-governance."

Rather than Islanzadí, it was Däthedr who spoke for his queen. "The decision is, of course, yours to make. We do not presume to dictate what you should or should not do. However, as your friends and allies, have we not earned the right to offer our advice upon such a weighty matter, especially when it shall affect us all? Whatever you decided will have far-reaching implications, and you would do well to understand those implications ere you make your choice."

_A threat? _

It certainly sounded like one but Eragon would not argue that he was of the same mind. They needed someone who could rebuild Alagaësia into an orderly nation with rules and laws that held same for all the citizens not just those who one ruler favored over the next. The mess that Galbatorix had left behind was great and appointing another despot ruler would only serve to destroy the people and the land.

"That…seems reasonable," said Nasuada. She glanced at Orrin.

"And just _how _would you advise us to choose, Lord Däthedr? Do tell; I am most curious," Orrin tilted his goblet, swirling the liquid inside.

The elf paused before he continued. "Whoever is to wear the crown must have the skill and experience needed to rule effectively from the start. There is no time to instruct someone in the ways of command, nor can we afford the mistakes of a novice. In addition, this person must be morally fit to assume such a high office; he or she must be an acceptable choice to the warriors of the Varden, and, to a lesser extent, the people of the Empire, and if at all possible, this person should also be one whom we and you other allies find agreeable."

"You limit our choices a great deal with your requirements," said King Orrin his eyes flickering from one elf to the next, "But no matter. Continue." Eragon saw Islanzadí tense as if she did not appreciate Orrin looking down on such a trusted advisor of hers but she did not speak against him.

Queen Islanzadí spoke, her voice smooth and strong, "The most obvious choice—and the one the people of the Empire will likely expect—is the person who actually killed Galbatorix. That is, Eragon. Not only has he dethroned the late king but he is also well know amongst the Varden and the Empire in one way or another. It is he who is the most suitable candidate for the throne as expected by the people."

"No," the moment Islanzadí had finished speaking the word rang forth from Eragon's lips. He did not want to be chained to some office. It did not sit right with him. For his entire life, he wanted the freedom outside of Urû'baen and now that it was within his grasp he was not going to relinquish it as easily. "Forgive my rudeness Your Majesty but I never desired the throne and shall not take up after Galbatorix. It is not right."

Islanzadí was not offended by his outburst but she merely nodded and he saw a visible relaxing amongst the others in the chamber. Murtagh smiled at him faintly as if pleased with his choice while Arya's emerald eyes sparkled in his direction. Within the slim connection with the Eldunarí, Eragon could feel that they were please with his decision.

"I am glad to hear you say it," said Islanzadí. "No doubt you would make a fine ruler, but I do not think it would bode well for your kind, nor for the other races of Alagaësia, were another Dragon Rider to assume the crown."

Then Arya spoke, "That leaves but two choices, then: you, Nasuada, and you, King Orrin."

King Orrin shifted again in his deep-seated chair, and his brow furrowed more severely than before, while Nasuada's expression remained unchanged.

"I assume," said Orrin to Nasuada, "that you wish to assert your claim."

She lifted her chin. "I do." Her voice was as calm as smooth water.

"Then were at an impasse, for so do I. And I will not relent." Orrin rolled the stem of his goblet between his fingers. "The only way I can see to resolve the matter without bloodshed is for you to renounce your claim. If you insist upon pursuing it, you will end up destroying everything we have won today, and you will have none but to blame for yourself for the havoc that will follow."

Eragon wanted to strike the man and his words. He did not risk his life and the lives of his loved ones and comrades just for another war to take place so soon after one had already end. And he was not going to let anymore fighting break out because of Orrin's desire to rule the entirety of the Empire and Surda combined. He was unfit and ill-matched to rebuilding Alagaësia, something that would take a lifetime.

"You would turn upon your allies for no other reason than to deny Nasuada the throne?" asked Arya, her earlier mood from Eragon's refusal of the throne gone and replaced by a cold and hard demeanor. He felt the same as she did and he could see Murtagh struggling to keep a fierce scowl from his face. It was with a jolt that Eragon realized just how strongly Murtagh actually felt for Nasuada. But would his feelings bring him happiness?

"No," Orrin replied. "I would turn upon the Varden in order to _win _the throne. There is a difference."

Queen Islanzadí turned to Orrin with narrowed eyes but her voice was calm as she spoke. "I would hope that the two of you could come to an amicable agreement, and—"

"Of course," said King Orrin. "I hope for that as well. But I fear that Nasuada's single minded determination will not allow her to realize that, in this, she must finally submit."

Islanzadí continued: "—and as Däthedr said, we would not think of interfering with your race as your choose your next ruler. However, as sworn allies of the Varden, I must tell you that we regard any attack on them as an attack on ourselves and we will respond in kind."

Eragon wanted to laugh at the expression on Orrin's face. No, the king would not dare to draw the irk of the elves on his people. He did not anticipate that Nasuada's allies would come to her aid in the event that she was attacked. He was sorely wrong then thought Eragon somewhat smugly. If Nasuada was attacked he and the others would come to her aid. She had led them valiantly into battle, fighting amongst her own men to see to it that they would not fail underneath Galbatorix's onslaught. She had brought the Varden from the tunnels of Tronjheim across Surda and the Empire all the way to Urû'baen. It was Nasuada who had borne the hopes of the people and had fought for them. The scars on her arms from the Trial of Long Knives were proof of that. It was foolish of Orrin not to see her capabilities of being the next ruler. Then again the man was a king himself. He did not want to be outdone, Eragon believed.

"The same holds true for us the dwarves," said Orik.

To worsen the blow, Grimrr Halfpaw spoke, "We do not care who becomes king or queen as long as we are given the seat next to the throne that was promised to us. Still, it was with Nasuada that we made our bargain, and it is Nasuada we shall continued to support until such time she is no longer pack leader of the Varden."

Eragon caught sight of a thick vein protruding from Orrin's neck as his jaw clenched and he turned his eyes to Eragon saying in a low voice, "And what of the Dragon Riders?" Eragon paused still unused to the idea that he was indeed now the leader of the Dragon Riders. The Eldunarí did not speak but they were awaiting to see if he could make the decision himself.

"I believe that Nasuada ought to inherit the throne," said Eragon as Orrin opened his mouth to speak but Eragon cut across him, "Not as her vassal but as a Dragon Rider. Nasuada has proven that she has the skill and fortitude to inherit the throne and the obligations and duties that come with such an office. She has single handily brought the races of Alagaësia together for the good of the Varden and has marched with an army from Tronjheim to the gates of Urû'baen. It is not mere luck that we made it this far Your Majesty, it is because Nasuada and her efforts as well as the combined efforts of our allies that we are here today. Do not believe me to be blinded and biased due to my loyalty to Nasuada. Had I thought differently I would say so."

"Of course you believe she should inherit the throne. You're nothing more than a loyal servant standing up for his master, and your opinions carry no more weight than the opinions of my own servants," Eragon felt his eyes narrow at the insult.

"Peace," Nasuada said before Eragon could utter a scathing retort. "There is no need for insults here…"

After much argument and negotiations, Eragon had thought that Orrin would still insist that he be given the throne despite all the reasons why it was better for Nasuada to be crowned the new queen. The longer they waited, the more likely it seemed to Eragon that Orrin would reject Nasuada's offer to giving him the southern isles as well as Feinster, Aroughs, and Melian.

Then the king shifted his weight and looked up, "Very well," he said in a low voice. "As long as you honor the terms of our agreement, I shall not challenge you for Galbatorix's throne…Your Majesty."

Her expression somber, Nasuada walked forward until she stood in the center of the open room. Then Orik struck the butt of Volund's haft against the floor and proclaimed, "The king is dead, long live the queen!"

"The king is dead, long live the queen!" they cried all with the exception of Orrin who still looked rather bitter. _Yes, _thought Eragon as he caught sight of Nasuada's eyes gleaming with tears as she stood proudly before them. _Long live the queen, long live Nasuada. _She had come a far way from being the daughter of Ajihad in which she had once defied his orders to fight with the archers in Farthen Dûr to the leader of the Varden and now to the queen of the Empire. She had come farther than most and he was glad for her. They spent another hour speaking of how to go about the coronation and such before the dispersed each go their own way. Eragon had made sure to speak with the leaders so that he paid his respects to them and was rather surprised with his conversation with Islanzadí. It unsettled him when she was the one to greet him first now rather he her. And when she had asked if she could keep his armor to which he agreed telling her that if she had any higher purpose for it that she indeed take it for he no longer needed it.

"We shall speak more at another time Eragon, for now let us go to our see to our duties," she touched him on the brow and then said her farewells sweeping out of the chamber with Däthedr following her, the elf inclining his head respectfully to Eragon, another unsettling gesture. He had bid Nasuada good night and left her and Murtagh alone since Murtagh seemed to be waiting for the moment to speak with the new queen. He was hesitant to do so but Arya had made the allure of a waiting mattress too much for him to refuse.

The dragons had taken him to the castle of a noble that the Varden were currently using as the command away from the main camp seeing as they had to remain within the city to help with repairing the holes in the outer wall of Iliera. It had been decided that they would abandon the name Urû'baen since it was too involved with Galbatorix's rule. While Eridor and Saphira went to rest in the courtyard, Eragon allowed Arya to lead him to their chambers which had been cleared for his use as Nasuada had commanded earlier.

Nodding to those that were hurrying about, he sighed when they reached an ornate maple wood door with delicate carvings. Pushing open the door, Arya led him inside the spacious chambers, closing and warding their room from unwanted guests. While she was doing such, Eragon had unstrapped Brisingr and Vrangr from him and placed them on the table in the center of the room and without changing, he went to lay down on the bed, face first with his arms spread wide on either side of him, sighing at the soft comfort of the mattress.

The day had been too tiring for him. He had gone from fighting a battle from the early cracks of dawn, to awakening Alagaësia, and then to finally killing Galbatorix only to be set to work even harder than before. And despite all that he was not even close to down with his duties. A groan left his lips as he thought of the many sleepless nights that were yet to follow.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" soft hands ghosted about his shoulders and over his clothed back as if searching for some sort of injury he might had obtained during his duties. He shook his head as he felt Arya's deft fingers work their way underneath his tunic to gently massage his skin easing the tension from his muscles. A soft noise left his lips when she found a particular tense knot by his left shoulder blade.

"Merely exhausted," said Eragon closing his eyes, breathing in deeply. He was struggling to stay awake now. He heard her voice but his dull senses were making it hard to discern what it was that she had said to him. Not to mention that her soft hands were making his consciousness slip from him even more. When he felt sleep edging over him, two fingers came up to pinch the back of his neck startling him back into focus.

Turning his head to the side, he glared up at Arya who was unaffected by his expression, "Why did you do that for?"

"You need to wash before you sleep Eragon," she said indicating to his messy appearance. "Your skin will fester if you do not wash away the dry blood or the grim that you have accumulated." He made no move to make for the washroom. She smiled lightly, "I shall prepare a bath in that time collect your thoughts." He watched as she slid elegantly from the bed before sauntering over to the door that led to their private washroom. Leaving the door ajar, she disappeared inside.

Lying there, Eragon was about to fall asleep once more until he heard Arya's soft voice call for him. A part of him wanted to ignore her call and sleep but knowing that she would be unforgiving if he did so, he forced himself to his feet grabbing his swords, since he did not feel safe leaving them in another room, and entering the washroom to find steam coming from the large circular stone basin in the floor filled with water that was giving off steam. Already inside the water, bathing her hair was Arya. Her eyes flickered to him as he placed his swords on the ground by Támerlein watching him intently as he began to pull off his sweat filled tunic and dirtied trousers, shrugging of his boots before he did so. Then despite his tired limbs, he slid into the bath easily and sighed as the hot water washed over his aching limbs nearly causing him to fall asleep in there.

"If you drown in your sleep, I shall not help you Eragon," Arya warned him as she caught sight of his drooping eyes. He chuckled slightly before nodding. Splashing his face with the hot water, he washed himself until his drowsiness had faded. With another sigh, he leant against the side of the stone basin noticing that Arya had put some distance between the two of them as she diligently washed the filth from her skin seemingly not wishing to be distracted.

Smirking slightly, Eragon slowly pushed his way through the waters towards her. Her dark emerald eyes flickered to him as he did so. She did not say anything as he neared but when he reached out to touch her, she evaded his grasp. "Wash Eragon," Arya instructed him.

He made to grab her again but she pulled away once more, shaking her head at him a slight smile playing at her lips. Conceding to her wishes, he made to wash his body clean and when he felt that his skin was freed of any filth did he try once more to reach for Arya. This time she allowed his arms to wrap about her waist letting him pull her onto his lap as he sat with his back pressed against the basin. Feeling her warm skin press against his was enough to wash away his earlier exhaustion and grumpiness to leave in their place a profound sense of contentment. He felt her hands curl about his shoulders as she leaned her forehead against his, her eyes dark and shining.

They were quiet until Arya spoke, a hand coming up to rest against his jaw. "I was proud that you did not give any consideration to taking up the throne after Galbatorix," she paused, "It would have been an ill fit."

"Are you saying that I might be unfit king?" challenged Eragon.

Her emerald eyes sparkle and he tried to ignore the sensation of her forefinger tracing his jaw line. "No but you would have been grumpy to raise early and grant audiences to your subjects. No doubt that you would be rather short with them. Rulers require utmost patience and have to be willing to relinquish their own needs…sleep included."

"Hmmm…" He blinked when her hand left his jaw and instead went to curl about his neck as she pressed her lips to the side of his face. She pulled back and he caught sight of a crease in her brow. Understanding her change in mood, he raised a brow. "Is something the matter?"

Arya was quiet for some time before she spoke and he did not push her. Instead, he busied himself letting his hands glide over her skin and his lips lavish their attention on her shoulder and neck before she spoke, "I saw my father today Eragon…when he came through the gate to help us fight," he paused his ministrations of her neck and pulled back to catch her eyes and he saw the brightness in them. She fell silent and her fingers curled into his wet hair, "He said he was proud of me."

"Why would he not be?" He gently wrapped his arms about her pulling her closer to him, causing the water to flow about them. "You are his beautiful daughter, the very one who brought honor to her people and her family."

"Do you believe so?" she asked.

He nodded, letting her hear the conviction and pride in his voice, "Of course. Your father has every right to be proud of you and so am I," he saw the slight curve of her lips upwards and pressed his own against hers, reveling in the softness of her lips as a shiver ran through him. He pulled back slightly to stare up at her. "Arya Dröttningu, Shur'tugal, and Shadeslayer…there is no one that I am more honored to call my bonded mate than you."

Her lips met his for a brief moment as she spoke against them, "And I you," then she whispered his true name and he felt his entire being tremble against her. Whispering hers in return, his smile widened when he felt her body tremble in his embrace. When she made to pull back, his hand pressed against her keeping her in place as he tasted her on his lips once more, drinking in the sweet flavor that was Arya.

"Eragon," she said in a rather throaty voice when he latched his lips against the skin of her neck. "Do not complain when you are exhausted in the early morning when you have to rise to your duties for the day."

"I will not," promised Eragon as he shifted her atop him, parting her legs. He heard her soft sigh when his hand reached its destination and could only smile against her neck. Much later after their shared bath, the two of them had slipped underneath the covers of the warm bed together and Eragon without any hesitation pulled Arya to him wrapping his body about hers as they slept.

And all across the land, darkness sank, cloaking the inhabitants in its ebony blanket so that when morning came it would be the dawn of a new age.

**All that's left is trying up the loose ends...I'll see you all soon! **


	108. Chapter 104

Chapter 104

**Inheritance=CP...I don't really have any words left but R&R. **

Time moved onward and the rest of Alagaësia was moving with it. After the victory at Iliera, the days started slipping away. It was not because there was too much to do in the rebuilding of the world but rather because Eragon knew that he had all the time in the world left to him. There was no more a great need to count his days anymore. There was no greater threat left for him to face. There was no sword hanging over his head pushing him to strive beyond his limits. There was no need to worry about death. All he had left to worry about was living…and his sleep deprivations. The days that tallied into months all involved him carrying out the numerous tasks that Queen Nasuada had handed to him. They were all measurements in ensuring the creation of a strong foundation for the new monarchy that Nasuada was setting up.

Eragon did not envy Nasuada in the slightest as he had met with her almost every day since the battle for Iliera for a near week. As the new queen, she had inherited the mess that Galbatorix left behind and while Eragon was trying his utmost to relieve her of any unneeded pressures or burdens, she was still called out to meetings until early morn and barely had time to sleep due to all of her duties and obligations. If Eragon was sleep deprived, Nasuada had turned into a creature of the nocturnes it seemed. The first order of business since Galbatorix's defeat was the coronation of Nasuada as the new ruler of the Empire. However, that did not take place until after they had dealt with the chaos that ensued after the Varden's victory in Iliera. There had been growing unrest with the presence of Urgals, werecats, elves, and dwarves within the gates of the cities. Discrimination was apparent amongst the inhabitants in the city against the races that comprised the Varden. At one point, it was asked that Nar Garzhvog take the Urgals out to the camp until Eragon could quell the unrest in Iliera. Though Eragon and Murtagh sought to placate the crowds, oftentimes Saphira or one of the other dragons would have to bellow loudly to silence the uproars. Once the crowds were reined in, there were the soldiers that had managed to escape Iliera that they had to deal with. In this, Eragon had employed the help of Bard and his servants as they routed the bands of marauding men to prevent them from striking anymore terror into the surrounding inhabitants. After effectively dispatching almost three quarters of the soldiers that had escaped, the remaining had surrendered in fear for their lives and had been captured for Nasuada to deal with.

Yet, despite the jubilation of their victory, there was a grim sorrow that hovered in the air the following days after they had won control over Iliera. There were hundreds of fallen to bury in both the Empire's and the Varden's numbers. The dead were being rounded up outside the walls to be dealt with. A proper burial for each and every one was impossible and they had to do what they must and burn most of the bodies. However, the elves refused to let any of their dead be treated such a way and had placed spells on the bodies of their comrades so as the preserve them so that they could transport them back to Du Weldenvarden for a proper burial. They did not wish to bury their comrades in the soil of Iliera but by the trees that they devoted their entire lives to.

But despite the deaths that had occurred, there was a great joy when the elves belayed their eyes on Oromis. The age and illness that plagued him was gone and he was younger, much younger than he had been since he had first met him was gone and in its place was an elf that was strong and capable. An elf that was happier. And once Oromis saw Glaedr his tears had nearly brought everyone to theirs as they watched as Dragon and Rider come together, whole once more. But despite his healed body, Oromis had adamantly announced that Eragon was now the leader of the Dragon Riders—an announcement that everyone had agreed to. But Eragon was glad when Oromis had promised him that he would be there to assist in his new Order but not as an Elder as he once was but merely as a Rider. It was enough to have his words as encouragements for the obstacles to come.

Yet, despite all of this, there was a change in the people in Alagaësia—a change in all the races. It seemed as time was stagnant under Galbatorix's rule that most had no sense of purpose now that the king was dead. That had changed however with Nasuada's coronation, the third day after Galbatorix's defeat. It was a simple and yet powerful affair in which Eragon had crowned her as the new queen of the Empire. He had argued at first but Arya had driven home the fact that he was the one who had killed Galbatorix and therefore he had the power to give Nasuada the right to rule. It was unnerving how much power he had come to gain but he agreed. It had been a strangely emotion affair, particularly for Eragon as he stood waiting for Nasuada to approach from the direction of the citadel dressed in royal purple. She walked proudly with Elva behind her carrying her train for Eragon had decided that with the birth of such an infantile monarchy, she had to be protected against danger.

_This was the moment Alagaësia has been waiting for, _thought Eragon as he stood on the dais next to the carved chair that would serve as Nasuada's throne. In front of the platform were the kings Orrin, Orik, and Grimrr, along with Islanzadí, Arya, Däthedr, Murtagh, and Nar Garzhvog. It wasn't until Nasuada had ascended the dais and had knelt before him did Eragon feel that his world had changed. Placing the crown—newly made with the contributions of the dwarves and elves as a gift for Nasuada's coronation—upon her head had struck him with the deep realization that Galbatorix was no longer part of their world. His presence was gone and Nasuada's had come to replace it.

It was the dawn of a new age.

And watching as the leaders of the races pledge their friendship to Nasuada had moved him beyond all else. Years ago, he could only remember Galbatorix atop his throne, high and mighty wishing to subdue the races of Alagaësia so that they may serve his bidding. But here they were. The people whom he had wished to conquer pledging their friendship without so much as a threat pointed to them. Yes, they had come a long way and the road that they were traveling still stretched on much further. It would take a lifetime to fully bring about the normalcy of life as it was but they had a lifetime ahead of them, they had plenty.

Afterward, they feasted, and the Varden and their allies celebrated throughout the night and into the next day. He remembered the festivities well for it was burned into his mind the new comradeship formed as well as the dawning of a new age. He remembered the dancing of the elves and had even joined in on the events himself. Though he danced mostly with Arya, he had also shared a dance with Queen Islanzadí and even with his own mother. And while he and Arya twirled about each other, the pounding of the dwarves' drums surrounded them and the bellows of the four Kull atop a tower that lined the outer wall echoed through the night. But what warmed him the most was how happy he saw Nasuada as she danced with Murtagh. Though her rule would be a trying one, he was glad that she had one moment in time to be happy. The people in the city joined in the celebrations as well, though somewhat more hesitant seeing as they were surrounding themselves with others apart from humans. But the jubilant atmosphere would not be denied its revelers and they were soon swept away with the music of the elves' voices, the drinks of the dwarves, and the hulking laughter of the Kull. The oppression of Galbatorix's rule was no longer existent and he saw that in the faces of those who celebrated about him. And it was in that night that he saw Arya dance and sing for the first time without the feeling of impending doom lingering over her.

However, when the coronation was done, they had to return to the problems that laid before them. When the outer wall of Iliera was finally done and the city was now secured enough, Nasuada had sent Eragon out to the cities to remove the spells that Galbatorix had casted and he was all the more willing to go. Though it would part him from his family and Arya, he had no choice but to do as she had ordered for he couldn't forsake Alagaësia just for his own pleasures. And so he and Saphira had flown to the cities with half of the Eldunarí they had taken from Vroengard. The other half remained with the Eldunarí they had retrieved from Galbatorix's treasure room. Blödhgarm and his eleven spellcasters had moved the hearts of hearts to a castle a few miles from Iliera in the northeast so that they would defend the Eldunarí against thievery and also to keep their thoughts at bay and from harming those that could not protect themselves.

From Dras-Leona to Helgrind to Belatona, and then Feinster and Aroughs they flew. From city to city, Eragon had spent the majority of his time undoing spells and enchantments that he thought were dangerous if activated. And in terms of Helgrind, he had stripped the spire of all types of spells not trusting what spells that protected Helgrind. The work was not dangerous nor was it overly pressuring but it did fill him with a sense of purpose which he was lacking ever since he killed Galbatorix. While in his solitude however, he thought of his new position as the leader of the Riders. He could not go on serving Nasuada for he had his own duties to attend to.

Upon his return to Iliera, he had found that Islanzadí had many of the other elven high lords had returned to Ellesmeŕa to prepare for the burials of their lost ones. He had wished that he could have said his farewells to the queen as to seem not ill mannered but Arya had managed to convince him that she and her mother were no longer at odds with one another and that they were trying their best to find that lost mother and daughter relationship. They had all the time before them now. And when he had asked why she had not returned with her mother she had merely answered that her place was by his side now. It had warmed him considerably to know that despite the changes about them that Arya would remain a constant in his life.

And so with her presence, the days started to slip by. Often times he saw his parents and Ella, all of whom were being treated with care in the castle that Nasuada stayed at for the moment until the dwarves and elves could reconstruct the citadel into a place that was more pleasing to stay at. With the help of the dragons, the citadel was knocked down into rubble taking with it the last of any reminders of Galbatorix in the city. And though Nasuada had offered to reconstruct his former castle, Eragon had politely declined. He no longer needed that life and nor did he want it anymore. His past life…it felt so far away like it had been not him who had been living but a different person. But he knew that those memories would forever be a part of him even if he decided to rid himself of the castle that once was. His life now was enough for him.

And as the reconstruction of a new castle for Nasuada went underway, Eragon had once more returned to his duties. Though before he did he had made sure to offer Elva the choice in which to live with her curse or without it. Murtagh had pulled him aside one day and asked him since he had knowledge of the true name of the ancient language to see if he would undo the curse and he'd agreed. What surprised him however was when Elva had declined his offer and he did not push her but merely respected her wishes. It was her life to live and she had the freedom to do so.

His time in Iliera however was short spent for he was sent out to Gil'ead and Ceunon to repeat the process that he had done for the other cities he had visited. He had to remove spells and enchantments on the city and its people and he also had to reinforce that Galbatorix was dead and that Nasuada was now the new queen. It did not take much convincing however seeing as Saphira's presence made it impossible for them to go against his proclamation. But life for the people was as it was at least until Nasuada had studied enough on the laws that Galbatorix had made before issuing her reforms.

There was one rut in the road towards rebuilding however when Teirm had insisted that it became an independent city state but Murtagh had managed to negotiate with Lord Risthart and Teirm did gain its independence but they had to recognize Nasuada's authority as high queen and abide by her laws concerning magicians—a law that she had yet to form given the sensitivity of its nature. Eragon had flown to Teirm and removed Galbatorix's spells and repeated the process for Kuasta, surprised to be in the city that his father had grown up in. It was isolated due to the forest that surrounded the city and held odd traditions. To think that his father would come from such a place but then again, Murtagh was raised on a farm near Carvahall. Perhaps there was a longing within boys isolated from the world in hopes to see sights that they had never once before seen. The process in Kuasta went smoothly for the lord there agreed to join in Nasuada's new rule as soon as Eragon had removed the spells from the city.

When they had returned Iliera, Eragon had spent the time within the city to assist Nasuada while Murtagh and Arya had flown out to the castle where the Eldunarí were as well as the hundreds of Rider swords and odd instruments that they had collected from what once was Galbatorix's citadel. While Eragon could not spend as much time with the Eldunarí, the two of them did to help ease the pain and confusion in the dragons. But many were too twisted to respond accordingly and so they were placed in a trancelike sleep so that Blödhgarm and the others would try to focus on the few that were not so as far gone. Oromis and Glaedr had decided against returning to Ellesmeŕa and the two of them had also decided to stay at the castle to help guard the Eldunarí. But all the while as they stayed there, he knew they were waiting for him to plan out some sort of way for the Order to be rebuilt.

Everyone else was going with their lives and yet, he could not devise one for theirs. While Nasuada was busying rebuilding Iliera and the Empire, he was still stagnant in his thoughts unable to form thoughts that might be of use. The scrolls that the elves and Jeod had catalogued as the secrets of the Riders only served to increase the pressure of finding a solution that would work. Eragon oftentimes found himself wishing that he could find an answer in the thousands of scrolls and books that Galbatorix had collected throughout the century but this task was his and he could not ask help from others. That would make him out to be a poor leader especially since Nasuada was doing everything in her power to be a just and righteous leader. He'd watched her when he was able to as she dealt with the issues brought up to her and admired how well she handled her affairs. And always by her side was Murtagh. His brother when he was not assisting in the rebuilding or spending time with their family was always with Nasuada. Eragon did not know what it was that was happening between the two of them but it bothered him until one night Arya had decided to enlighten him.

"Do you think that there is something amiss with Murtagh and Nasuada?" asked Eragon as he sat at the table in their hall reading the report that was sent to him from Blödhgarm.

Arya merely glanced up from her place on their bed, her eyes lifting from the pages of the book she was reading. "Amiss? Perhaps blossoming will be the more correct word in such a situation." It took him ten seconds to process what she meant and he found himself even more bothered. Murtagh was a Rider and it would seem out of place for a Rider to be so involved in the makings of the Empire even if not directly. "Do not dwell so on it Eragon. The world is not what it was."

And so he did not think to ask much of their relationship but it was always bothering him when he saw the two of them together. He knew Nasuada understood her position as queen but emotions could be overpowering, something Eragon also understood fairly well.

Time continued onwards and he still had not a single plan formulated in his mind. And as the first snow fell, he continued to think despite how tired he felt as the days grew short and the night grew long.

When the first snow came, Orik and his army had returned to the Beor Mountains to celebrate in their halls and go about rebuilding their lives as well so that they were not isolated from the events that occurred within Alagaësia no longer. All of the elves who were still in Ellesmeŕa—apart from Arya, Oromis, Vanir, and Blödhgarm and his spellcasters—returned to Du Weldenvarden. At first, Eragon did not like the sight of Vanir after remembering their falling out in Ellesmeŕa but he had learned from Arya that Vanir was trying to change and he wanted to see the world which was why he was now the new elven ambassador for Arya was now too busy with her duties to continue between her people and the outside world. Though that did not stop Arya from visiting her mother when she had the time to fly to Ellesmeŕa with Eridor. And she did so when time allowed and when Eragon was flying out with Saphira to other locations to carry out Nasuada's orders.

As the snow settled over Iliera, Eragon felt rather annoyed for he had wanted to see what Ellesmeŕa looked like during the winter as Arya had once told him in her stories before. He wanted to see a world of white and not Iliera cloaked in snow causing the roads to become impassable and the fare at the tables to become lean. But even when he wanted to forsake his duties to simple see the elven forest, the attempts on Nasuada's life had not allowed him to and he had been rather unforgiving to those who did so.

He had made sure to make a show of one attacked in the middle of the streets—after they had attempted to do away with Nasuada—of the Iliera to show to the people the just punishment of such conniving attempts. Needless to say, they were reminded of the strength of a Rider and none dared to attack her once more though that did not stop Murtagh and Jörmundur from arranging more guards for Nasuada was well as spellcasters to protect her. And if he could Murtagh went wherever Nasuada went.

Despite his duties however, Eragon had found some time to spend with Arya during the winter and was amazed with just how much his affections for her were when he saw her cheeks reddened with the winter chill and her hair sporting flakes of snow. She was an image of true beauty that he was not afraid of calling his. And when he was not with Arya, he went to see his parents and Ella. His sister was beginning to crawl about and she was curious with every little thing that came her way. Trying to be the doting older brother, he more often than not tried to give Ella everything she needed for a comfortable life. His mother, however, had scolded him for trying to make her grow up spoilt like him and wanted Ella to have a balance between luxury and necessity.

After winter, Eragon had to deal with the uprising from a displaced earl named Hamlin from Gil'ead and Tharos the Quick of Aroughs. His irritation had peaked and Nasuada had given him the order that he do what he deemed necessary and never one to be afraid to draw blood, Eragon made sure to show to the those rebellion exactly what happened when they did so. Though he was not savage nor cruel about it as Galbatorix would have been, Eragon made sure to convey the message and then dragging Tharos and Hamlin to Iliera, he had Nasuada deliver her judgment on them.

However, there was a joy to be shared when Katrina gave birth to a healthy daughter whom they named Ismira. And though Eragon did not know the two of them well enough they had been welcoming when they invited Eragon and Arya to celebrate with them and now Ella had a new friend to play with.

"She, Ella," said Eragon as he held his sister over the sleeping Ismira, who had cried constantly a few minutes earlier before wearing herself out. "is your niece." His sister merely stared at the baby curiously as if not sure what to make of her. But while Eragon stared down at Ismira, his eyes flickered to Arya as she conversed with Katrina. Everyone was starting their own lives and his was still on hold. He wanted to see the joy on Arya's face like Katrina's when she stared down at Ismira.

"Maybe in a few more years Ella," said Eragon as he shifted his sister in his arms. Her bright blue eyes sparkled up at him as he continued to hold her speaking to her his troubles quietly.

It was one evening as he was standing with Nasuada in her study discussing matters of concerns throughout Alagaësia did she decided to bring to subject her idea of dealing with magicians and it was an idea that he did not agree with. Though she wanted to safeguard the people, she was limiting the freedom of all the magicians in the Empire, Surda, and Teirm. Eragon understood her necessity to watch of magicians but he did not like the manner she was hoping to employ it. She had thought to have Murtagh or Eragon at the head of the group that would travel across Alagaësia to oversee the use of magic but Eragon did not believe his brother was merely made for controlling magicians. No, he had envisioned something greater for Murtagh. And Eragon did not agree to such an idea nor did he see himself doing so.

"Then what will you propose Eragon?" asked Nasuada as he stood before her. "This is the only path available to us, and I need your help to do it. And unless you have a plan that is the best solution possible I would like to hear it. Otherwise, I shall not budge on this plan."

"Rather than controlling," said Eragon as he thought of his own life, "why not seek to educate?"

Apparently, Nasuada had not been thinking of such a thing for she blinked and then her earlier strained expression changed into one of thoughtfulness as she observed Eragon. Then after a long moment, she said slowly, "Continue Eragon."

"Most magicians learn magic themselves since there is no clear group apart from Galbatorix's Black Hands that he had created and though they did cruel things, they were very loyal to Galbatorix. The same could be said for his spellcasters," said Eragon with a slight frown, "He sought to control them through loyalty then why not seek to obtain loyalty through educating? Most magicians are looked down upon in Alagaësia for we see them as dangerous…however, if we but educate them perhaps build an academy or a school or some sorts in Iliera, you can see to their use of magic and when they have finished their education, you can offer them to serve you as part of the army of some sorts. It is a rather poorly thought out plan at the moment but with enough effort you can control the use of magic if you put enough effort to influence its origins. Therefore…"

"I can see to the use of most magicians and not all but it will be enough," said Nasuada her brows creased thoughtfully. She pause thinking to herself thoughtfully. "And who do you purpose shall teach the supposed 'students' if they so wish to be?"

"You have my servants," said Eragon with a smile, "Bard is as able a commander as he is a magician and do not forget Desdemona."

"But not Murtagh?" asked Nasuada curiously.

Eragon shook his head, "I had hoped for something different for Murtagh in actuality but I have yet to think of what," he inclined his head as Nasuada nodded. He could tell that the idea had appeal to Nasuada. It was not the absolute control that she wanted but it was as close to it as she could get and it would be a great help to employ magicians to their cause not out of force but out of their own loyalty. In any case, it appeared as if he'd left Nasuada with a great amount of thought when he left her study that day.

Later on that night while Arya was sleeping, he had found it nigh impossible to do so as he sat with his back against the wall behind their bed staring at the window to the left. An idea had come to him when he had heard Nasuada's proposal but it was almost incredulous to even behold. Yet, there was a sense of rightness to it as he thought of the order of the Riders in the past. They had raised the dragons and Riders on Vroengard away from the politics of Alagaësia and any one particular race in general. They had raised an order rather well and had safeguarded it until one of their own had betrayed them. Location had always been a rather heavy thought in his mind when he contemplated where to build the Dragon Riders once more. He could not do so in Iliera for it was too close to the heart of the Empire. He did not want young Riders to be tempted by wealth and power. The idea of raising the order in Du Weldenvarden was tempting but it was unfair for dragons and elves had always held a close connection and to do so would only serve to strengthen the elves in the eyes of the others. The elves did not need more strength and power than they already had. The Beor Mountains was always open but he knew there were dwarves that were not amicable to the Riders. And Eragon refused to rebuild the order in the middle of the Hadarac Desert despite Saphira telling him that the sand was good for their scales.

The advantage of Vroengard as a home to the Riders was that it separated them from the others so that they would not be too deeply involved in the workings of the world outside of their duties. He needed a location like Vroengard.

_You will leave Alagaësia but this land will forever be your home and no matter how many times you venture forth from it, you will always return to grace this ancient land with your presence._

Angela's words rang deep in his mind and then the sense of loss disappeared from him. He had been too worried with the faring of Alagaësia to take into consideration that lingering would only serve to hinder his life than continue it. The Riders could not be raised in Alagaësia, they had to be raised away from Alagaësia as far as Eragon deemed safe. He paused thinking of the prospect of leaving Alagaësia. He was not necessarily sad at the thought for he had always felt that he did not belong whether it was in Iliera, Du Weldenvarden, or the Beor Mountains. But there were those that he would miss and the thought of leaving them made his heart clench slightly. But even if he did not leave them now, those whom he knew would leave him eventually taken by the grips of time.

He sighed leaning his head back against the wall and in his lack of care had banged it rather hard on the stone. There was a soft sound of amusement as he reached up to rub the forming ache behind his head to find Arya awake and staring up at him, her dark eyes bright in the moonlight that came in through the window. "Were you not asleep?" asked Eragon as she gathered the sheets to her chest sitting up beside him. He murmured a few words and the oil lamp beside their bed flared to life illuminating a the area near the bed.

"I was," she said shifting slightly, the bare curve of her back alluring but he held his place as she tilted her head to stare up at him. "But there is something that is bothering. Ever since you came back from your meeting with Nasuada, you seem…withdrawn." She paused pushing her hair from her face. "Is something amiss Eragon?"

And so he told her of Nasuada's plan to control all the magicians in Alagaësia and how she had planned to have Murtagh or Eragon guide the group. Her brows creased but she did not say anything against him. When he told her off his own idea that had somewhat come upon him, she nodded thoughtfully. "It is a better idea than what Nasuada is proposing," she frowned once more, "I do not believe your magicians will take lightly to being watched. It is a matter of principal rather than the act of spying that would no doubt irk them."

"I had thought as much," said Eragon.

She blinked once like a owl and continued, "But that is not what is bothering you is it?"

He shook his head trying to find words for his decision that he had made but moments earlier. He had been flying to and fro with no sense of purpose for months and seeing Arya hindered by his lack of purpose had made him certain that this is the only way for them to continue on with their lives. "I have been thinking for some time about the new order of the Riders," said Eragon rubbing his face tiredly as he turned to face her, "It is not so much my lack of willingness to take up the mantle of the leader but rather a location to raise them in…Arya, I cannot rebuild the order in Alagaësia. It is too dangerous, it is too close to others. The temptations are too great as well as the dangers that it can pose. Therefore, I believe that it is best for everyone…if I were to raise the dragons far away from Alagaësia."

Her earlier concern had faded to leave behind shock. "But the Eldunarí—"

"Shall not be staying in Alagaësia nothing of the Riders will remain here. The Eldunarí will be protected if they are farther away from Alagaësia and any who seeks to do them harm." said Eragon sighing, "I have been thinking long and there has always been an uneasiness in me remaining here. There is no sense of purpose here for me Arya and I have too much power. I have a means to the whole of Alagaësia as well as controlling the ancient language. The disparity in my power and that of the leaders of the races is too great. It would serve to no end if I remain here. And I do not want to spend the rest of my time merely fly back and forth under Nasuada's orders for as long as she is ruler. No…my place is no longer here in Alagaësia. It is someplace where I can rebuild the Order."

She looked troubled as she sat beside him and he could see that she was struggling internally but he did not say anything. He did not want Arya to feel pressured into leaving with him. She had family and friends in Alagaësia that would live longer than his. He would not ask her to abandon what she knew for him. Eventually she spoke.

"What of your family Eragon?" she asked softly, "The very one you fought so hard to protect? You will leave them?"

"If I do not leave now, they will leave me within time," said Eragon sadly feeling his eyes sting but he did not cry. It was a thought that he understood and that he was willing to accept. If anything, Arya appeared even more troubled.

"Will you return to Alagaësia?"

He nodded, "Of course, I will make sure to come to see you—"

Arya's eyes flickered to his and his words died in his throat as he saw the hard expression on her face as she stared at him with her emerald eyes. If he did not know any better he would say that she was angered at his words. Her expression was challenging as she lifted her chin slightly and he was struck by how beautiful she looked by the light of the lamp. "Do not presume Eragon," said Arya in a hard voice, "that I would simply sit in waiting while you leave. If you believe this to be the course of the Riders than I shall come with you."

"But your mother—" It was Eragon's turn to protest.

She leaned over to place a finger on his lips with a sad smile, "Our relationship is as it should be Eragon, I have had days to speak with her and spend time with her but do not forget that there has been a time when I have not seen my mother in seventy years. Distance does not frighten me Eragon for I know if I wished I can easily fly to see her whenever my heart desires so." She crawled closer until she was sitting atop his lap, the sheets falling away to reveal her beautiful body. "However, I will not let you leave without me. As you have said, I also do not have a purpose now that Galbatorix is dead and Vanir having taken up my post. I have been simply waiting to see what it is that you have planned so that I may assist in any way I can…If you are leaving Alagaësia Eragon, I wish to be with you." She paused her eyes searching his before she smile, "As it were I am also a Dragon Rider and I do believe you shall need help in rebuilding the Order."

He felt his throat tighten as he stared down at Arya entranced by her eyes—eyes that had held his attention since the first day he had seen her. Everything had changed when he had first met her and in some way or another it seemed as if fate had allowed them to come together so. Arya had been there for him since he had joined the Varden and she was still continuing with him. Smiling at her, he spoke his voice hoarse with emotions, ones that only Arya could bring out.

"I have a secret to tell you," he said his heart feeling as if it was burning with raw emotions. She waited, "Angela once told me when she read my fortune before our souls were bonded that an epic romance is in my future, extraordinary and strong enough to outlast empires. That my love is of noble birth and heritage. And she is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."

"Oh?" Arya whispered, shifting on his lap. "And what of your fortune after our souls were bonded?"

"A powerful romance is in my life, for now and ever. An eternal love as represented by the fullness of the moon," his answer was a whisper and he could see her eyes sparkling as she leaned in closer to him.

"And who," her lips pressed against his before she pulled back slightly so that the soft skin of her lips whispered against his as she spoke, "is this she that Angela spoke of?"

Pressing his lips back against hers as he turned lowering her onto the mattress, his body over hers Eragon pulled away slightly to stare down at Arya. Then he pressed his lips against hers once more whispering her true name. Her only response was to tremble against him as her arms glided up to wrap about his neck, her legs curving about his waist as she held him to her tightly. And Eragon would have it no other way.

Sweating profusely and his heart beating erratically, he pulled Arya to him. He could feel her heated skin against his and the pounding of her own heart as they let their bodies calm after their union. After a moment, it was Arya who spoke her voice still rather husky, "We must meet with Murtagh, Oromis, and the Eldunarí tomorrow and speak to them and then Nasuada."

"Hmm…"

He was rather tired and sated from the carnal release that he had but moments earlier. He felt her lightly chuckle as her hand glided up his chest, her fingers tracing along the sweat sheen that covered his skin. "Tired?"

"Hmm…" he cracked an eye open to find her staring up at him with a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Eragon nodded as he watched as she rested her head against his chest as if to use it for a pillow to which he had no objections.

"After we tell Nasuada, let us fly to Du Weldenvarden," she murmured.

"And before that we must fly to Vroengard to retrieve the rest of the eggs," added Eragon feeling rather drowsy. He heard her murmur of consent but could not distinctly make our the words as his desire for sleep was getting the best of him. As the world began to fade from him, he was comforted with the Arya's presence as he slipped into his waking dreams.

His time on Alagaësia which he thought was plentiful was now limited. But he would not deny that a sense of purpose was welcoming. And the prospect of rebuilding what once was also held a great amount of appeal. While Alagaësia was entering a new dawn it appeared that he was entering a new world soon enough.

The last thoughts he had before his mind went into its slumber were Angela's words.

_You will leave Alagaësia but this land will forever be your home and no matter how many times you venture forth from it, you will always return to grace this ancient land with your presence._

**Since the story is coming to an end in a few more chapters I would like to see your thoughts on this proportionally long story. I'll still update regardless but just curious...Anyways I'll see you all soon. **


	109. Chapter 105

Chapter 105

**And so the final chapter of this story (there will still be one or two post story chapters to follow up and an epilogue just to show the possibilities of a sequel) This chapter is focused on the what was versus what wasn't as well as what was perceived and what was overlooked. Anyways, I don't think I shall be making it a top priority to upload the few chapters following this one but you never know. (Inheritance=CP) R&R readers. **

No one could be prepared for farewells no matter how much time they had to be acquainted with the idea. It was something he had learned in the past two weeks as he had prepared for his departure. He had thought that he could easily say his farewells but that had been a mere assumption on his part for it was difficult. He had not known how deeply he had grown to view certain people. Perhaps he wasn't as cold as he believed he was. He had never thought that within his short time spent with the Varden that he would come to care for others apart from his mother, Saphira, and his servants. But he had and he had no idea that he did. That was the strength of emotions—something that Galbatorix had declined to teach him.

Thinking of the past two weeks, Eragon leaned back as he sat on the branch seventy feet up in the air glancing down at the lush green forest. Tonight would be the night that he would leave Alagaësia to start his new life. Or rather, he was going to finally start living for himself. Sitting here and merely letting the silence of life and the sight of nature ease his mind, Eragon let himself be lost in the happenings of the past two weeks. The farewells weren't of the agonizing type but they were not easy.

"You are adamant about it then?" asked Murtagh as he stared at Eragon in wide eye surprise. "About leaving Alagaësia for your new post?"

He nodded, this was not a joking matter and he did not understand why his brother needed him to reassure him of his decision. Eragon waited for Murtagh's response, his eyes flickering to the faces about the table that they sat at with Eragon at the head. His eyes flickered from Murtagh to Oromis to Blödhgarm and his eleven spellcasters and then Arya. He would not hold it against Murtagh if his brother did not want to leave with him. Unlike Eragon, Murtagh had more to strive for in Alagaësia. He had family and friends that held him dear at heart and would be saddened to see him leave.

Seeing his hesitancy Eragon smiled slightly, "You do not have to come with me, Murtagh."

"If you and Arya are leaving because of your duties as a Dragon Rider, it is only fair to you that I leave as well," said Murtagh his expression rather strained. Eragon merely chuckled slightly amused at how his brother was willing to sacrifice all that he knew for his duty alone. He did not want Murtagh to wander throughout his life like he had. He wanted him to find a sense of purpose.

"Then stay here and do your duties as a Dragon Rider," said Eragon, he leaned back in his chair to observe his brother. "When the new Riders come to be they will need someone to answer and I can think of no better teacher to educate them in our ways before sending them to join Arya and I to continue their training."

"Me?" He could tell that Murtagh was shocked with his suggestion. His eyes darted to Oromis who nodded with a smile.

"If Eragon believes this is the right course to take then I shall accompany him on his journey. My place is no longer with the elves but with the Riders as they once were. And I speak also for Glaedr for he must be joined with the Eldunarí. He shall like to keep trying to steady their minds so that they may return to themselves," said Oromis, his face determined with a hint of serenity to his features. Eragon understood the expression well enough; his teacher was finding his sense of purpose in life once more. Now that he was healed and whole, he had the strength to continue onward and not be limited by his illness that once was.

Blödhgarm leaned forward in his seat to turn his amber eyes on Eragon, "We will also like to accompany you Shadeslayer. We find ourselves bound to the dragons and would like to continue to assist wherever possible in rebuilding the order of the Riders," his eyes flickered to Arya, "with the permission of Islanzadí Dröttning of course."

"I shall speak to her," said Eragon inclining his head in gratitude to the amber eyed wolf-elf. His head turned back to Murtagh. He was the only one that had yet to tell him what he had decided and he was about to give his brother some time to think before Murtagh nodded, his expression steely as he spoke.

"Then I shall remain in Alagaësia."

So it was decided that Murtagh would remain behind with the duty of teaching the new Dragon Riders. Once he saw that they were educated in the ways of the Riders and tested them, he would send them to continue their training under Eragon and Arya. It took some planning to see how it would work out but after a few suggestions, Murtagh had stopped them and said that it was his duty to see to how he would train the new Riders until he deemed them fit to send off. Seeing his determination, Eragon merely let his brother go about his work.

A breath left Eragon as he watched a formation of birds swoop away overhead. His thoughts paused for a moment before they returned to the farewells that he had been trying to accomplish over the last two weeks. Once he had left Murtagh to his planning but only after promising to meet his brother once more at dinner later that night, Eragon had left to tell Nasuada of his plans knowing that she would undoubtedly see reason in decision.

What surprised him most was her reaction.

He had expected her to be angered at his decision but he did not expect her to be sad. He knew he cared for Nasuada as a friend more so than a leader but he did not expect that she would think the same thing for him.

"You are determined to leave?" asked Nasuada. It was odd that his impatient nature did not show itself to Nasuada in that one moment in time as the two of them stood together facing the city of Iliera below from atop a balcony. It was undoubtedly the fact that he would not be seeing Nasuada for some time after this conversation with her.

"Yes," his eyes darted to the city below and back to Nasuada. "There is much left for me to do and it is not here Nasuada. It took me a moment to realize it but it is true. Once I leave, you shall have the full command that your title deserves." he paused before continuing. "It is not the Leader of the Rider's place to stay within Alagaësia. If anything that is what Galbatorix has taught me or rather it is something that I have learned from Galbatorix myself."

"You will abandon your home and your people?" her eyes were hard but her expression was soft as she asked him a question that he already knew the answer to. He had no hesitancy when it came to his answer to her.

"I was born and raised here," said Eragon a nostalgic smile on his face, "but I have never felt as if I was at home—that I have belonged. I do not belong in the Empire, in the Beor Mountains, in Du Weldenvarden, or is Surda. I have been wandering all my life for a place that I may call home but I believe that it is not Alagaësia."

"You have the Varden," whispered Nasuada and he was surprised to hear the slight tinge of unhappiness in her voice as if his leaving was a loss to her more than politically but rather personally. At that moment, Nasuada was not his liege lord but rather a friend of his.

"Not anymore." It was true now with Nasuada as queen; the Varden had become a part of the Empire and had lost its reason to stay together. With Galbatorix gone the Varden had disintegrated as the races returned to whence they came. Catching sight of Nasuada's expression, he tried to smile at her reassuring. "I do not regret killing Galbatorix Nasuada but the world is changing and we must change with it…This is the only way. I hope you understand that. If it is any comfort to you, I shall have a means of communication placed within your office so that you can reach me once I've arrived to the destination that I seek. Or rather I shall ask Murtagh to prepare it for you for when you need it."

"And Arya shall be leaving with you?"

Eragon nodded trying not to let his smile widen at the thought of his mate accompanying him. "She is," said Eragon watching as Nasuada nodded. It did not seem to surprise her that Arya was accompanying him. Not in the least.

After a long moment of silence, she spoke once more. "It is good to know that you will always have Saphira and Arya to watch over you," she smiled as if she was listening in on a joke that he did not know about. "Else who shall wake you from your bed when you need to rise with the rest of the world?" He gave her a look that she ignored as she paved on, "To be honest with your Eragon. I never suspected that Arya would fall in love with you. From all the years that I have known Arya—that my father has known her—she did not seem inclined towards romantic feelings. Perhaps not from a human since she has received far more offers of courtship than I can imagine. I had always thought that she would find her heart's place in that elf guard of his…Faölin, I believe his name was."

It surprised Eragon that Nasuada knew the friend that Arya had lost to Durza but he did not say anything as she continued to speak for he was afraid of interrupting her train of thought and then causing her to derail altogether. "And when I first caught word of your joining the Varden I will admit that I was skeptical. The Rider that served Galbatorix now serving our cause…How could that be? But you have showed me wrong Eragon. You have showed me wrong at every turn."

"Including Arya?" asked Eragon with a faint smile.

She smiled back, "Including however. I had thought that when she had first me of your union that you must have bewitched her of some sort but I was wrong the more I saw the two of you together. I am glad that you were not denied that happiness Eragon. It is a happiness that is most rare."

_Yes it is. _

He contemplated of himself and Arya and knew that his relationship with her was precious. It was reflected in those about him. He saw himself and Arya in Roran and Katrina, in Islanzadí and her affections for Evandar, in Orik and his wife, in his mother and father, and in so many more. It was a bond that would last a lifetime. That would not die easily. And he knew—no, he understood that Nasuada wanted the same thing as well. She may be a ruler of a vast Empire now with her own problems to handle but that did not mean that she had to deny herself the happiness that she sought after. It was unfair to her. If there was one thing that Eragon wanted her to know it was that she had the choice to find love and keep it. It did not matter on rank, heritage, or any other factor that figured into human traditions of marriages or love itself. It only mattered on the people and their emotions.

"Nasuada, do not deny yourself," said Eragon in a rather upfront manner, surprising even himself. He could barely understand women as it was and yet here he was trying his best to give Nasuada his support. Her shock made his flounder on the spot for a moment but he continued. "I do not understand what it is between you and Murtagh but I do know happiness once it slips away cannot return…not easily at least. You cannot handle everything on your own you must know that. Even if it is just for a little bit, rely on Murtagh or a close friend of yours. I have learned from the short time that I have been alive that depending on someone…depending on others can ease your burdens. As Arya says, 'a burden shared is a burden halved.'"

She seemed to be struggling to control her emotions but he saw through them well enough. He saw confusion, denial, and most of all a deep longing in her eyes before she had managed to school her features once more. Falling quiet, Eragon watched as she nodded to him. However she did not speak her thoughts to him. He had an inkling that Nasuada was lightened by his words.

"There is one more thing that I would like to talk to you about," he watched as Nasuada raised a brow as if apprehensive about what more he could possibly have to say. But it was not something that he had devised himself. It was Murtagh who had suggested it and Arya and Oromis had tentatively agreed. Eragon, himself, had not given it much attention but Murtagh had suggested that the pact of the Dragon Riders be reformed to include both the Urgals and the dwarves. His reasons were valid and Eragon found himself agreeing after some time. Despite the new land that Nasuada had given to the Urgals, they were a hot blooded race. A tradition of theirs was to challenge others to show their strength and in order to quell any sort of blood lost in the future; Murtagh had suggested that the Urgals be given a chance to become Riders. So Eragon agreed. Then when he mentioned the dwarves, Eragon once more had to think. Orik made it clear that dwarves were unsuited for the sky. He doubted that a dwarf could make for a fine Rider since they seem so very intent on keeping within their tunnels but perhaps in order to wash away the ill will that was left towards the Riders in quite a few of the dwarves it was for the best.

They needed to ensure peace in Alagaësia else the Riders would never be able to grow.

It was also a dawn of a new age. Change was bound to happen whether good or bad he did not know but the knowledge that came with change was invaluable. Rather reluctant, Eragon also agreed to Murtagh's request. The four of them then began planning on the new pact that would be made and with Eragon as the new leader of the Riders, he had the authority to change the pact as once was done for humans. And so Eragon told Nasuada of his plans to involve the Urgals and the dwarves and though skeptical she gave him her blessings on the idea.

"And what of the magicians? Have you decided how you shall deal with them?"

She smiled, "I have. Rather than the group I have been telling you about Eragon. It was decided that we shall build a school to teach magic. Desdemona and Bard have agreed and there will be some magicians that will scout the lands for those talented in magic whether they be young or old to join. Once they have been educated, they shall be offered to join the ranks of the army as their own separate branch. There will be a reward system in place but I have yet to work out that matter entirely. But it appears as if this idea will bode well for the magicians and those interested in magic. I have you to thank for that Eragon."

"Not at all, it is you that are building the school and gathering the required effort to carry out the plans. I merely gave it thought," Eragon denied waving away her praise. He did nothing but speak, it was Nasuada who deserved praise for all of her hard work. "Is it going underway?"

"Yes, I have Finny aiding in the construction…will you not take them with you Eragon? I do not believe the four of them would allow you to leave them so."

"It shall depend on them," said Eragon with a slight frown knowing that his servants would be opposed to the idea of him leaving Alagaësia. He would not persuade them to leave with him nor would he enforce that they stay behind. It was their decision to leave but he could not ask them to abandon what they knew for him. He had heard word that Bard had killed his own brother, Barst, with his own hands. He could not ask them for anymore. It would be too much. Eragon, himself, had once believed he could kill Murtagh—his half-brother—by his own hands but found that he was not able to. To think that Bard did such a thing…it was selfless and sacrificing. It was something he would never be able to wash from his soul.

"Then they shall all be leaving with you," said Nasuada knowingly.

"You never know," Eragon replied, elaborating at the quirk of her brow. "They may not be able to leave as easily as you think."

She made a sound of acknowledge but did not challenge his statement before asking quietly, "When will you leave Eragon?"

"At the earliest break of dawn."

"So soon?"

"I see no reason to wait for the inevitable to happen."

Nasuada leaned against the railing before them, her eyes fixed on Iliera below. "Will you return to visit?"

"When I can…though I do not believe it will be anytime soon," said Eragon watching as she blinked, looking as if she was trying to hold back tears. She turned to him and stepped forward to embrace him. Not having hugged many women apart from Arya and Selena, his limbs instinctively locked up before he relaxed returning her embrace. "Thank you Nasuada for believing in me."

"I would have been a fool not to seeing as you have done so much for us," said Nasuada as they parted. "And I will continue to believe in you Eragon. Never question my trust in you. If you need anything, please do not be afraid to ask it of me. I shall see if I can assist you wherever it is that you are going."

"The same stands for you Nasuada," his eyes flickered to the crown that she wore. "If you ever need help do not be afraid to ask it of me. I shall send help in any way I can. Do not work yourself too hard and do not be frightened at the prospect of relying on others for at times it is the only way to overcome an obstacle within our way."

"Thank you. I shall always hold your words to heart." He smiled at her and she tried to smile back but he could see it in her eyes that she viewed his leaving as a loss of a friend that she could trust wholly and without question. It struck Eragon then, how little people that Nasuada could truly rely on. Eragon had Saphira, Arya, his family, and his servants while Nasuada only had a handful of people. If anything, he hoped that Murtagh could be the person that she could turn to whenever she needed assistance. Even if it would not last for them, he wanted them to try for happiness rather than forsake it.

He glanced skyward. "I must leave to meet my family."

"Then go and take with you my blessing Eragon." She took his head between her hands and kissed him upon his brow. "My blessings upon you and Saphira. May peace and good fortune be with your wherever you go."

"And with you, Nasuada."

A bellow echoed in the distance and he smiled knowing who it was that was approaching. Turning, Eragon saw the mass of emerald above the tree tops and felt his smile growing wider as the emerald dragon began to wing its way towards him atop the tree branch. That was his family from now on. It would be him, Arya, Saphira, and Eridor in the new world that they were venturing to. Hopefully within time, they would have their own family and built a place that they could not only call the home of the Dragon Riders but their home—their home after years of wandering and searching.

That night while he was eating dinner with his entire family, Eragon could not but help study the large table in its entirety. They had all gathered to eat together and he was unsure if it was Murtagh who had planned it or that it was merely coincidence but it was an opportunity that he did not let pass for they were all gathered: his parents, Roran and Katrina, Murtagh, Arya, and his servants. While they sat at the table to eat, Eragon did not broach the subject but rather focused his attention on Ella—whom he would not see grow up—and on Ismira, his niece. They ate a lively dinner out in the courtyard where the Eridor and Saphira lay napping together. His family had grown rather large. He had never considered that one day he would be eating at a table with more than just his mother.

It was a bittersweet moment. After all he had done to gain such a family he was going to have to give it up in order to carry out a duty that was given to him. There was no self-pity but only a slight tinge of regret. Staring at the smiling faces of his family, he could not help but accept that one day they will be gone and he would live on. It was his life ever since he became a Rider.

When he at last approached the subject—after Ella and Ismira were put to sleep—he had expected the storm of protests but he could not remember one so violently. His mother had slammed her hand down on the table and vehemently protested causing Eragon to explain for nearly an hour as to why it was necessary for him to leave.

"You are surely not going to let him leave like so Arya!" His mother proclaimed.

Arya shook her head and for a split second there was a triumphant smile on his mother's face as if she was convinced that Eragon would not leave for Arya. It was gone the next second when Arya spoke, "I am going with him."

Her words had brought out the seriousness of the topic and how Eragon was indeed not conceding to any requests, demands, or threats about his leaving. His mother's eyes grew wide, "But you cannot leave Eragon! What of your family? What of your baby sister, Ella? Will she not have a brother to grow up to?"

"She will have Murtagh," said Eragon softly.

His mother growl, "And why should Murtagh be the only brother to be with her? Will you only let her know you through stories and legends? Will you not be part of her life?"

"No," said Eragon, shaking his head. "I'll still be able to talk with her and if I can I shall visit her from time to time. I may even be able to send her presents. But I cannot stay mother and do not make this decision any more difficult to bear. Let us part on good terms, let this dinner be the one that will shall remember of each other as one family…as it should be."

His mother's bottom lip quivered and to his shame, she began to sob before embracing him crying about how she was losing her son to which he only held her whispering that she was not losing him but that he was finding his own way to live his live now. "You helped me find wings on my own mother. So, please, let me use them so that I can live my life."

"You deserved much more than what fate has in store for you Eragon," his mother sobbed against his shoulder. "I shall always love you and no matter where you are or what title you hold, you will always be my son even if you no longer need your mother."

"That is not true," protested Eragon weakly. "I shall always need you but one day mother we will have to let go of each other. Know that even then, I have loved you first, and shall always love you for you are my mother, the very same who stayed by her son's side when he needed her in his darkest of days."

She had cried for what seemed like ages until Murtagh had gently dragged her away to calm her before she had an attack. Then he turned to his father who was watching him with an expression mixed between anguish and pride. His father held his arms out to him and Eragon willingly went into his embrace. "I know that I have lost the right to be your father Eragon," Brom whispered hoarsely clutching dearly onto his son. "But now that the moment I met you, you have always made me proud. Even now, knowing that you have made this decision yourself brings me pride for you have grown up well…But know Eragon that had I had any whisper of my son I would have come for him. I would have fought for my son and raised him as any father should. Sixteen years…gone because of my lack of care…it is my fault that you were abandoned in Urû'baen and if I could…I would never have chased Morzan if that meant losing you."

"It is enough father," said Eragon as he pulled away from Brom. He spoke to his father in the ancient language to let him know how he felt and that he was being truthful. "These past months that I have spent with you has been enough. I…I am glad that you are my father and I am not afraid to let it be known that you are. Had things been differently I would have wanted to grow up with you and mother but fate had different things in store. We found each other in trying circumstances but now we are as father and son should be just without the history. Memories would have been enjoyable but the present is more important. It is where we are now that matters not where we were or were not."

His father smiled at him. "I am much older than you are and yet you are the one teaching me life as it is." Then to Eragon's astonishment, his father leaned forward to kiss him on the brow. "Eragon…I love you, my son."

Unbidden by him, he felt his eyes sting as the young boy within his heart cried out for his father. "And I you, father."

Not wanting to ruin their one joyous moment together without any sort of boundaries, Eragon moved onward to Katrina and Roran. There was not much to say to them for he did not know the two of well enough but they were still family. He gripped Roran's forearm. "I heard that Nasuada has given you the title of Earl and the whole of Palancar Valley. You shall make a fine earl."

"And you shall make for a fine leader," Roran returned to him. His smile faltered. "Have you ever wondered Eragon?"

"Of what?"

"Of the fact that had the fates reversed your lives how you would have been different? You and Murtagh?"

He had not pondered such a question before but it was an odd one as he stood there blinking trying to imagine a life in which he lived in Palancar Valley and Murtagh in Urû'baen underneath Galbatorix. It was so strange that he could not picture it. "No, I cannot think of my life of anything else than as what it was. Perhaps things would have been different if the fates decided that I should have lived with you and while Murtagh lived in my steed in Urû'baen. I cannot think that it shall change much though."

"Yes, perhaps not. It is just the mere wonderings of my mind lately," said Roran with a chuckle. "In any case, I am sure that with time you and I would have made for good cousins just like Murtagh and I."

"Then in a different life then, let us be cousins once more," said Eragon smiling.

"Aye, let us."

Exchanging a few more words with Roran and then Katrina, Eragon made way for his servants whom he saw were watching him with hard expressions. When he approached them made to bow but he stopped them. "You are no longer under my service. There is no need to bow anymore for I am no longer your lord."

"We had had this discussion once before my lord," said Rosalie with hard eyes before he could speak, she could across him. "I wish to come with you Lord Eragon. With you my life had always had a sense of purpose to it and I shall not abandon you now. Not when you are in need of help in rebuilding a future for the Riders."

"Very well, I shall not dissuade you from your decision." Her surprise at his words was obvious for it seemed as if she was dealt a blow to her head. His eyes darted to the other three as he waited for their answers. It was Bard who spoke first.

"I shall stay in Alagaësia my lord," his expression was hard set. "You are sacrificing all that you know so that you can fulfill your duty and it is time that I do mine. As much as I wish to cook you another dinner, I know that my skills are needed elsewhere."

"I shall stay with Bard," Desdemona said quietly, painfully. He smiled softly at her knowing that she wished to stay by his side but was unable to now with the way the world was heading. All four pairs of eyes stopped to rest on the young boy who appeared close to tears as he nodded in agreement with Desdemona and Bard.

"I will stay too, you will need someone to keep watch in Alagaësia for you Lord Eragon," he said with as much conviction as he could muster.

Eragon stared at them, from one face to another feeling the warm radiance in his heart expand as he took in their fierce expressions of loyalty. It was time for them to move on and it was time that he let them. He did the only thing he could do for them at the moment. Smiling, he bowed to them. "Thank you…my friends."

And it was enough for no words were said between them after that but their expressions were enough to tell him that they too found his words to be enough for their lifetime. He gave them another smile before he made to see Ella off. She was still sleepy but she did not cry when he held her, kissing her lightly on the cheek and telling her how much he loved her before he set her back down on her cot for her to rest. He hoped with everything in him that she would not resent him for not being there for her often as she grew up. She would understand thought Eragon as he gently rubbed her chubby arms with a finger. "Your older brother loves you Ella."

"And she loves her older brother," Eragon glanced up to find Murtagh standing by his side with a smile. "I will make sure to tell her all about you as she grows older Eragon. She will not forget you for I shall make sure that she knows of the brother that had fought for her future."

"Thank you, Murtagh."

"I wanted to ask Eragon, if I could by any chance see you off."

"If you would like," said Eragon watching as his brother smiled before nodding.

"It is only proper for I am your older brother."

"That you are."

And so he had said his goodbyes in Iliera unable to stand there much longer. It was difficult to pull wave to his family as well as Nasuada, Elva, and surprisingly enough Angela but he did so for it was his fate to leave Alagaësia. From Iliera, Saphira and Eridor flew to the castle where Blödhgarm and his spellcasters were to instruct them to move the Eldunarí as well as the treasures that they had collected from Galbatorix away from the castle and to Du Weldenvarden. Oromis and Glaedr were to accompany the elves to Du Weldenvarden to protect the Eldunarí and there they would wait for Arya and Eragon.

From the castle, Eragon and Saphira had gathered the Eldunarí from Vroengard as well as Glaedr's hearts of hearts and together with Arya and Eridor they flew to Vroengard to retrieve the eggs. But before they took to the ocean, they had stopped in the spine to find the halls of the Urgals where Eragon was graciously welcome and there he spoke to Nar Garzhvog of Murtagh's plan. They had created a tournament that would take place yearly for those wishing to prove their strength as a means to quell the hot blood of the Urgals but when told of their second offer, the Urgal clan leader was stunned but he was not ungrateful. It was then that Eragon realized how poorly others regarded the Urgal race and he hoped that which egg was given to the Urgals that the dragon would hatch else it would be a failed plan.

Eridor swooped down above him and Eragon had to duck to avoid being clipped on the head by his wings. He glared at the rider atop the emerald dragon's back as if blaming her for the fact that he was nearly knocked from the branch.

He had remembered reaching Vroengard and Arya's immense awe with the poisonous island and how she found the snalglí to be highly amusing. He had reacted the same as well the first time he had seen them. She was impressed by all the sights about her and on the return after they had gathered the eggs and their defender, Cuaroc, Saphira had soon to Eridor and Arya the tip of the world and there they sat for but a few minutes taking in the round horizon and he saw in her emerald eyes and emotion that made his blood boil. He could not place it but he knew that what Arya saw that day would be something she could never forget.

On their arrival to Ellesmeŕa there were festivities all about and Eragon was surprised to find not only Murtagh waiting alongside Queen Islanzadí but Roran and his family as well. It had appeared that Murtagh had wanted to give them a tour of Ellesmeŕa. They spoke little but dined and feasted in celebration of a new era to dawn. However once dusk approached and the celebrations began to disperse, Eragon and the other Riders as well as Islanzadí and her thirty most ancient and master spellcasters had gathered underneath the Menoa tree to redo the pact once more.

The caretakers, Iduna and Nëya, had disrobed and in accordance to the rituals—Eragon and the others began to sing, and as they sang, Iduna and Nëya danced, moving together so that the dragon tattooed across them seemed to become a single, unified creature. At the height of the song, the dragon shimmered, and then it opened its jaws and stretched its wings and leaped forward, pulling itself off the elves' skin and rising about the clearing until only its tail remained touching the intertwined caretakers.

Eragon called to the glowing creature, and when he had its attention, he explained to it what he wanted and asked if the dragons would agree.

_Do as you will Kingkiller, _said the spectral creature. _If it will help ensure peace throughout Alagaësia, we do not object. _

Easily flipping from Eridor's saddle, Arya landed beside him in a show of grace and elegance. Her knees had bent slightly so that she could absorb the impact and her arms were stretched out beside her. Then with one fluid movement she straightened and turned to him her eyes bright and a beautiful shade of verdant as the leaves about them. She inclined her head as Eridor let out a joyful and both Eragon and Arya had to once more duck as Saphira dove out from the clouds above making to seem as if she would crash into them before pulling back up at the last minute.

"They are in a rather playful manner," said Eragon with a slight smile.

Arya nodded. "That they are." Her eyes searched his momentarily as if trying to ascertain something then she spoke. "What of you Eragon? You were not there when I woke. Have you slept at all last night?"

"No," he was being honest with her. Waving away her concern, Eragon gestured off to the distance where they would depart. "There has been much on my mind and I find myself unable to think clearly at times."

"You are worried then?"

"Anxious and impatient."

She smiled at him as if expecting his answer and he smiled back. Arya understood what it was that he was feeling for she was feeling the same way as he was. She was soon leaving with him and Eragon could only thank whatever higher authority there was—even Alagaësia herself—for giving him the opportunity to meet someone like Arya.

And so they feasted for a week on end after the pact was reformed with the inclusion of not only the elves and humans this time but also of the Urgals and the dwarves. There were many festivities. The elves all about danced and sang, their actions gave life to the forest and it was as if Eragon was once more observing the Agaetí Blödhren. It was a week of celebrations that went underway in Du Weldenvarden and at one point; Eragon had excused himself allowing Arya time to speak with her mother. Instead, he made his way to Rhunön. He wanted to see the elf smith and how she was now with her work returned to her.

Emerging from the tunnel to the open wall forge, Eragon was not surprised to see Rhunön not celebrating with the rest of the elves. Rather, she was studying a black Rider's blade with hard eyes. Eragon glanced to the forge to find that she had mounted almost all of the blades so that they created a glittering rainbow of iridescent colors. It was impressive to say in the least that they were all of her work.

"Has Arya not come to persuade you to join in the celebrations?" asked Eragon as he came to the elf. She glanced up but her expression remained the same. She was not surprised, awed, or honored to meet him. Rather she was her usual brusque self and Eragon would have her no other way.

"There have been even celebrations to last a lifetime," said Rhunön as she bent the sword in her hand until the blade was flattened in half. It did not break—a testament to her skill. "Why have you come here Kingkiller? I have heard word that you and Arya shall be departing from Alagaësia by the week's end."

"I came to see how you were with your work," said Eragon with a slight smile as she released the blade nearly slapping him across the face with it as it moved backwards. "The same as ever I see."

"And you are not." Rhunön observed.

"No I am not," he gestured toward her wall of swords. "Like I have promised you Rhunön-elda, I have returned to you your swords."

"So that I may reshape them for your new Riders," she said not sounding angered but rather excited at the prospect of once more carrying out her life's work. Eragon nodded and he watched as she left his side to place the black sword on its mantle on her wall before bustling about. Then she pulled out a sheathed sword that he had recognized. She handed it to him.

"I strengthened the sword you gave me with some magic but I left the blade wholly untouched and as it was," she handed him the sword and he gripped it. "Since you have fulfilled your promise to me, I have no need to keep onto your sword any longer. Hold onto it Shadeslayer and bequeath that sword to someone who deserves it."

"And who shall that be?"

"How should I know?" she crackled as if annoyed by his questions. "Perhaps your son or daughter shall you have one."

Arya took his hand squeezing it gently. "It is time Eragon. We must fly out to meet the ship so that we may leave. The others are waiting for us."

"Of course." With that the two of them jumped from the tree branch and within a matter of seconds, Saphira had swooped down below him and turned veering way from the edge of Du Weldenvarden towards the outpost where the ship, _Talíta, _awaited them. Flying steadily beside Saphira was Eridor, his wings flapping rhythmically through the air. Side by side, the two dragons followed the Edda River.

Before he had left, he had gone to give the dwarves a dragon egg personally so that he could say his farewell to Orik. He had met Orik at the outpost of Hedarth for he did not want to travel all the way to the heart of Farthen Dûr. The dwarf king was welcoming and he had even convinced Eragon to stay a night so that they could celebrate together—both at the fall of Galbatorix and at the inclusion of the dwarves in the pact of the Riders.

When the time came the following day, Orik had urged him to stay another night which Eragon had declined. He had to leave and if he continued to prolong it, it would only serve to make his leaving more difficult. Already he was having a hard time coping with the fact that he would no longer see his family regularly and now to have it reinforced made him falter only to have his resolve to leave harden. While many believed him to be strong, Eragon knew himself to be weak if his will left him than he would be unable to continue on with his life.

"Thank you Orik for all you have done," said Eragon gripping the dwarf's arm.

Orik merely pulled him into a strong embrace surprising Eragon. "Go with mine blessings Eragon for you have become a brother of mine heart as Murtagh has. I shall not forget what you have done for me and mine race, not as long as I am king of the knurlan."

"I am honored Orik."

"No, I am the one that is honored to have you as part of mine clan and family. It is the truth, Eragon."

_Family._

He had never considered that Orik would have given him any thought as family apart from the law but he did and it lightened the burden on his shoulders lightly. Once more, Eragon found himself expressing his gratitude to Orik and when they had parted, it was with a heavy but hopeful feeling that one day in the future they would meet once more.

The two dragons alighted on a small hill allowing for Arya and Eragon to slide from their saddles to join the waiting company of elves as they stared down at the ship waiting for them on the far side. He spotted Murtagh waiting with Queen Islanzadí, Oromis, Glaedr, Thorn, and Rosalie. It was this moment that he had been waiting for the past two weeks and now gazing upon his leave taking he did not know how to react. There was no happiness as he strode down the hill with Arya by his sides and the elves following behind.

By the light of the pale moon, the vessel looked like a swan ready to take flight from the wide, slow-moving river and carry him into the vast unknown. The elves had lowered its sails, and the sheets of fabric gleamed with a faint sheen. A single figure stood at the tiller, but otherwise the deck was empty.

Past the _Talíta_, the flat, dark plain extended all the way to the distance horizon: a daunting expanse broken only by the river, itself, which lay upon the land like a strip of hammered metal. Wherever they would end, that would be their new home thought Eragon as he gazed out past the ship trying to imagine a place that he could finally call his. It was a hope that plagued him as they slowly made their way down the hill and through the whispering grass to the pebble beach by the ship. Unbidden, the elves formed two lines leading to the ship, one facing the other, and they planted the ends of their spears in the ground by their feet and stood thus, statue-like. Rosalie gave him one last look as she too moved to stand by the elves waiting for him to board the ship first.

Above he saw the figures of Saphira and Eridor circling about each other waiting for the moment that the shipped set sailed so that they could accompany it. _Now is the moment, _thought Eragon as he stared up at the pathway to the ship. He took in a deep breath and made his way to Murtagh.

"This is where we part," said Eragon as his brother reached out to embrace him, patting him roughly on the back.

"Be safe Eragon, wherever it is that you shall find I hope you shall take great care," he said quietly as he pulled away. Eragon nodded. He had already said his farewells to Murtagh several times but it did not get easier no matter how many times they went through the process.

"You as well, brother…Take care of our family and Nasuada."

"I will."

_Take care Eragon, _Thorn's voice rumbled in his mind. He spared the dragon one last look before turning to Murtagh.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment longer and he knew that Murtagh was thinking the same as he was. They had come together and when they had managed to overlook their past and their flaws, they were now parting. He had gained a brother and now he had to leave him. That was the cruelty of fate. Taking in a deep breath, he touched Murtagh's shoulder one last time before he turned without another word said and went to join Arya and Queen Islanzadí by the two rows of elves. Oromis had already boarded the ship during his short farewell to Murtagh and Glaedr was now circling above overhead.

"Your Majesty," Islanzadí turned to him allowing him to see her calm exterior but in her emerald green eyes he knew that she was feeling the pain of loss as she prepared to let go of her daughter for one more time. She had not protested against Arya leaving with Eragon, rather she had trusted in Arya's decision despite the weight of it and had given them their blessing. But he knew that it pained the queen to have to relinquish Arya after all they had been through.

"The time for you to set sail is nigh upon us," said Islanzadí with a sad smile. Her eyes flicked to the gangplank and back to Eragon and then Arya. "It is time for you to carry out your duties that fate has given you."

"We will come to visit you Your Majesty, I can assure you of that," said Eragon as her eyes once more trailed to Arya.

"I believe you," was all Islanzadí said before she embraced him, kissing him on the brow and then she swept Arya up in her arms in a much more personal embrace. He watched as mother and daughter held onto each other for but a moment's time and then they parted whispering promises that they would meet soon once more.

Holding out his arm to Arya, Eragon smiled slightly as she loped hers through his, and together they walked onto the ship and went to stand by the prow. The elves behind them followed, and once all of them and Rosalie had boarded, they pulled up the gangplank. Without wind or oars, the ship moved away from the stony shore and began to drift down the long, flat river.

One the beach, Murtagh, Thorn, Islanzadí and her guards stood, watching them. Then Thorn let forth a mournful cry, a jet of flames coming from his mouth lighting the night sky. It was enough to show to Eragon, Murtagh's pained expression and Islanzadí's tearful eyes.

For several minutes, Eragon stood next to Arya, and neither of them spoke as they watched the first curve in the river approach. At last, Arya turned to him a film of tears in her eyes that she refused to shed. She stepped towards him and Eragon embraced her, enveloping her petite body in his strong arms. "Eragon," her voice was a soft whisper for she did not want to disturb the peaceful night. "Let us build a home so that we may no longer need to wander anymore."

Years of wandering from place to place due to their sense of duty or their lack thereof had brought them together. They were two souls trying to find a sense of belonging in the greater schemes of things and now, after finding each other they could finally have what their hearts desired: to no longer wander but to belong. In their new home—the one of the Riders—they would not doubt find that sense of belonging. Alagaësia would always be their home but it was where they wandered. Now was their chance to belong.

They were Vrangr and Brisingr and together they were the wandering fire—burning a path wherever they went and illuminating each other's darkness. That was them. He bent down and kissed her forehead whispered her true name as he held her tighter to him and she returned the sentiment.

Together they stood in their embrace with the dragons flying overhead. There was pain in leaving and yet there was hope. With that hope came a measure of peace as he wondered what strange sights awaited them within the wild reaches of the empty plains. He was going to live his life with Saphira, Arya, and Eridor—a life with his mate and the dragons and Riders. He was leaving behind his family and loved ones but he was not alone. _They _were not alone.

A smile crept across his face and he watched as Arya's own smile crossed hers as she gazed up at him, her eyes showing the same hope and excitement that he felt for the new journey that laid ahead of them. It was not one of death or fighting but one of rebuilding, creating, and living.

And the ship sailed onward, gliding serenely down the moonlit river toward the dark lands beyond. The wind stirred faintly and within it, there was a voice whispering to him. _May luck be with you Eragon Shadeslayer. _

His grip on Arya tightened.

_I am Eragon Shadeslayer, son of Brom, Rider of Saphira, brother to Murtagh, foster brother to Orik, cousins to Roran Stronghammer, leader of the Riders, Kingkiller, and mate to Arya Dröttningu. Yet, I am also Gabranth, pupil to Galbatorix. _

The ship continued to sail onward leaving behind Alagaësia and its inhabitants and taking them to a new land where their lives awaited. It was his life now and he would live it against the odds—against fate itself. He would live it together with Saphira, Eridor, and most importantly Arya.

_I am the Wandering Fire._

**Officially this is the end of the story. There are chapters that will follow and I shall work on them but seeing as the main story is done I won't be pressing my time to upload them daily. Anyways, I just wanted to take a few moments to say some words. (Yes, I would like to have a someone re-Beta this so that I could revise this and make it into an error-less story.) If you would like to Re-Beta this story please PM me and we can work something out. I would like to also thank all of the readers that have followed and added this story or me to their favorites. Thank you all, it means much to me that you all appreciated this story which I just thought of in the passing. Truthfully I had never thought to make it this long and encompassing but it would be a disgrace to this story and its plotline if I didn't. Thank you to all the reviewers who helped to motivate me constantly. I would not have been able to upload 50 chapters in such a short period had it not been for you all. I will not say goodbye here since I am going to upload one or two more chapters and than the epilogue. Anyways, review everyone for this 'ending' chapter! This is how the Inheritance Cycle (in my opinion) would have been if Eragon and Murtagh lived reversed lives. Going from the end of Eragon to the end of Inheritance, this story covers it all! Though it follows the original in an aspect, this story has grown into something more and I hope you all agree with me. Anyways, I hope to see you all soon! And please be expecting a beautiful epilogue. **


	110. Passing the Years

Passing the Years

**This chapter is going to be one of the first of the "What happens after" type chapters. There will be one more and then an epilogue. I shall have an open epilogue so that it can give me leeway if I decided to write a sequel. Though there are some happily ever afters and such, there will be the introductions of new problems for everyone to contemplate. And there was a review that said that it was sad that I did not kill anyone in the final battle. I don't think that to make a story impacting that one must necessarily kill off a character unless it added in developing the story. Besides, it works with this upcoming epilogue. There are questions about what Arya had to tell Eragon after he returned from Vroengard and it was basically her true name. (I must have been vague) and also about Eragon's armor. Earlier in Ch. 75 I think, he met Areth and he asked her for a favor if he were to find a way to the sanctuary and so they made a deal. That was the favor he'd asked for. Apart from this, there are also questions about my other IC project. I shall upload the first chapter after the epilogue is posted and this story is finally 'completed'. There will be more details in my A/N in the epilogue. Anyways, R&R! **

How would one measure time?

By the peak of the sun? By the change of the seasons? By the days, months, or perhaps years that elapsed?

Those were meaningless to Eragon and his companions when they had arrived to their destination. Changes in nature had no place where the ship, _Talíta, _had taken them. It had been the eleventh day after traveling over flat plains that would sometimes be interrupted with some span of forest or a small hill here and there did they arrive to a location that Eragon deemed fit. There was a large hill beside a beautiful body of pristine and serene water. It was a lake that was nearly twice the size of Leona Lake and it girdled the side of the hill protecting the hill from any sort of land invasion coming from the west. Whoever would want to reach the hill, they would have to circle about and approach from the east. It was ideal and it was safe. He had made a decision then: they would rebuild the legends of the Riders atop that hill.

Stone by stone, inch by inch, what they did from hand and magic began to build upon itself and soon enough what was but one room turned into many. Days, weeks, months, and years went by in which they would wake in early morn and rest late into the night to build a fortified city in the likeness of Doru Araeba in size and beauty but there was an openness to it as the city grew and rather than a hill, it was a stone city that stared out at the lake, a lighthouse built to stand over one hundred and seventy-five feet tall in which a bright light shone like a beacon in the night sky and within the building burned a flameless lantern to guide any Riders that would make it to the city to join Eragon and Arya.

While they were working on the city itself, the dragons had busied themselves building a wall that girdled the hill making them tower at sixty-five feet. Eragon had not wanted to become like Galbatorix and build walls that towered at eighty feet. It was pure craziness. A regular army could not scale a wall that was fifty feet easily and he had a feeling that no one would dare to scale a wall filled with dragons living in the inside.

Their days passed with their work and the only mark that showed any true shows of change was the growing city that they were erecting with their magic and their hard work. Once the skeleton of the city was finished, they had to find wood in the forest to create the furnishing for the insides of the buildings. It was hard work and had it not been for the presence of Saphira, Arya, and the others Eragon would never had been able to pull through. Yet there was something satisfying about seeing his efforts put into form.

The buildings were magnificent. He was not a dwarf and nor was he the best architecture there was but his plans had not gone awry. With Arya's and the other elves' help they were able to design a city that was mix between elven standards and human standards. He was sure that the moment the dwarves arrived even they would be impressed with the work and effort put into building the new city of Dragon Riders—Nyr Doru Aldras. It was a simple name that held a part of the old city and yet an entirely new one. In choosing the name, the task was left up to Eragon and not one person offered any help. It took him weeks on end and countless sleepless nights until the name came upon him. When he spoke of it to the others, they had agreed without hesitation and Saphira was immensely proud that he had given meaning to their work at last. It was her new home for her.

Despite the many obstacles in their way, they had done it and Eragon was immensely proud that for once their plans had not turned astray. They had come to build a new home and here it was. Never before had he felt such pride. Not even when he killed Galbatorix all those years ago. There was a difference between destroying and creating and he knew then just how beautiful a thing creation truly was.

They had not only built an upper layer to the city itself. There was also a system of tunnels beneath the city for the sewers. That particular portion took weeks to build since Eragon lacked the skills of tunneling though he did know how to effectively implement a sewer system.

The building was yet far to be done but they had laid a foundation for the new Riders to come. Apart from the building of the city itself, Eragon—with the use of the true name of the ancient language—had created a shield of wards about the city making it nigh impossible for someone to make it past without alerting him or any of the others to their presence. There were also seven watchtowers that lined the outskirts of the city in order to have a clear view of the lands in each direction. The need for precaution was necessary for there was too much at stake in this new city of theirs: the Eldunarí and the eggs.

And in addition to the eggs that Eragon had found in Vroengard, there had been one more addition and that was Saphira's egg. She was the first one to use the nesting house and with her new egg, it seemed as Eridor and Saphira were now inseparable. The color of the egg was the same sapphire of Saphira's scales and it warmed Eragon to know that inside was a hatchling that was born from both dragons. Yet, as he was happy for her he could not help but think about his own desire for a family with Arya. They did not speak of it but he knew that it was an unsaid mutual consensus between the two of them that currently there was too much to handle.

A family would have to wait for now.

They certainly have come a long way thought Eragon as he stared outside the large window that gave him a perfect view of the city below. The citadel that overlooked the city was in no terms lacking. It was beautiful and the elves had put the most effort into creating it into a symbol of beauty and hope rather than oppression and absolute control. He saw the large stone houses beneath him and merely smiled. The students should be waking soon for their lessons. He rest his hand on the widow seat that he usually found Arya occupying when she was busy reading the many texts and scrolls that resided in their library. Off in the horizon, he could see the beginning rays of dawn.

_Sixteen years has been some time. _

Within all that time many things had happened. Several months after they had departed from Alagaësia with the beginning of autumn, they had received a shock. Amongst one of the first things for them to do was to build a chamber similar to the one on Vroengard Island for the Eldunarí and the eggs. Having all the space and materials they needed—if they needed more magic was always a useful in extracting the needed elements from the earth—they built a beautiful chamber for the Eldunarí. While the outside was stone, Eragon had gone with the elves' insistence and had made the inside completely from wood so that the Eldunarí and the eggs would have more comfort. When the chamber was completed and enchantments were put in place to protect and warm the Eldunarí and the eggs, none of them had expected what was to happen.

A few months after the completion of the room, Eragon had gone in one morning to say his greetings to Umaroth and had been frozen in shock. On the wooden floor were shattered pieces of the egg shells and squawking and squeaking about were several hatchlings. He had not known what to do when they had turned to him, squeaking impatiently in their hunger. But when one had bit him, it had brought his senses back to him and he began to count the dragons that seemed intent on playing with him even if their bites and scratches hurt terrifically. _Nine! _Nine dragons had hatched!

_They are the ones that are not bound to the pact of the Riders, _Umaroth said his voice crowing with pride at the birth of more dragons. _We do not force each and every egg to become bonded for that would make our race too docile. There must be a balance between the wild and the dragons bonded to their Riders. Those that want for a Rider will wait for one and those that do not shall hatch when conditions prove favorable or if they desire to see the world outside of their eggs._

_Wild dragons, _Eragon grunted when a beautiful hatchling with deep violet scales seemed to want to gnaw on his shins. Reaching down, he easily picking up the dragon watching as it indignantly squeaked. Then without warning it struck him across the face with its tail. Feeling his anger peak Eragon scowled. He never had any sort of experience with wild dragons and from what he could tell now it was going to be difficult to try and raise them to abide by some sort of rules. Even as hatchlings they seemed to be rather proud.

Rather than letting his anger get the best of him, he reached out with his mind to call for Arya and the others. Placing the hatchling back on the ground, he stepped about the energetic creatures trying to observe them. Without a Rider, they were very wild indeed but there was a curiosity to their energy. He could tell that they were interested with the Eldunarí and the other eggs but they did not venture closer to them.

As they walked about on unsteady feet, he felt the minds of the Eldunarí press outwards towards the hatchlings. Wild and bonded dragons spoke to them trying to communicate to them that they were safe and that until they were old enough to take care of themselves, they would be looked after by Eragon. It took a few moments for the message to be conveyed and when it was they all looked to Eragon expectantly and then he felt the tendrils of thought touch his mind as they tried to convey to him their ravenous hunger.

"Just wait for a moment," said Eragon in the ancient language willing for them to understand as he sent his own gentle thoughts back to them though he was still irritated by the bite on his shins earlier. "I shall get you food."

They blinked at him and seemingly losing interest decided to play with each other. Sighing, he merely stood there watching as the dragons bit each other on their tails or playfully pawed at one another. It was rather endearing to watch and he couldn't help but smile despite the earlier pain he had to endure. But there was one dragon that caught his attention rather than playing with the others it merely watched on as if timid. This particular hatchling had ebony scales and it appeared to be smaller than the other hatchlings. He had a strong inkling that the dragon's mother was still young when she had its egg.

Rather than leaving the dragon to its own devices, Eragon reached over to pick it up and he cradled it within his arms as one would a newly born babe. The dragon made a noise of contentment and he allowed it to snuggle against his chest. It reminded him of Shruikan. As he stood there with the hatchling wrapped in his arms and his eyes trained on the other eight, Eragon felt relief course through him when the doors opened abruptly and Arya stepped through with concern flooding her features.

The dragons gave a frightened squeal at the sudden loud noise. Instantly Arya's eyes darted to the source of the noise and he watched as they widened in wonder and amazement at the sight of the newly hatched dragons. Her eyes darted to Eragon and the dragon in his arms and he smiled as if to say that he was just as surprised as she was by the sight of nine hatched dragons before them.

"Be careful," Eragon warned her as she stepped into the chamber, enthralled. "They bite."

Her answering smile was brilliant as she moved forward and he felt her mind reach out towards the dragon. Rather than words, she merely pressed her thoughts to them telling them that she was not an enemy. The dragons seemed to recognize Arya for at times she would come into the chamber and spend her hours speaking with the dragons with either her mind or her voice. One hatchling of a deep ruby color squealed at the sight of Arya and bounded over to.

"The hatchling must recognize you," said Eragon as Arya reached down to pat the dragon on its small head causing it to arch like a cat, a hum coming from its throat.

He heard more footsteps and turned to catch sight of Blödhgarm, Invidia, and Wyrden in the door looking somewhat harassed at his urgent call. "We heard your message and we thought something terrible has—" Blödhgarm started but he was interrupted by an impatient squeaking for food. One of the dragons was staring about the chamber, its mouth opened pitifully as it waited for some sort of food to eat.

The three of their reactions were similar in that of Arya's causing him to smile. They did not seem to expect that the eggs would hatch so soon after they had left Alagaësia but it had been a century since they were put in a trance and Eragon was positive that they could no longer wait to see the world.

"They are hungry," said Eragon as the squeaks grew incessant. While it irritated his ears, he enjoyed listening to the sounds and watching the dragons as they demanded for food. Pressing his mind to them, he impressed on them the message that they had to follow him if they wanted food. And so they did.

The task of caring for the dragons was something that Eragon and Arya easily took up. Oftentimes one of the elves would come and assist when they were not building the city. However, Eragon and Arya were left to care for the hatchlings for the first fortnight until Saphira, Eridor, and Oromis took over showing them how to care for themselves. The nine dragons were quick to learn and as the months and they grew older enough to breathe fire they were rather independent. Few had taken to learning the ancient language while the majority merely communicated as dragons in the old did by using images and their feelings to convey what they wanted to say. They were very prideful but they did not cause chaos wherever it was that they for they had abide to his rules near the city.

Out of the nine that hatched four were females while the rest were males. It was then that he understood just how formidable wild female dragons were. There was a beauty to them and their powerful and fierce personality. But there was a level of respect that they showed to Saphira seeing as she was older than they were and the only female to have been part of the Second War that had saved their lives.

And so the years passed in which they were joined by wild dragons. Only a few eggs had hatched in the fifteen years to follow but that was enough to fill the sky with the sights of dazzling colors. It was only until after four years that they had moved when the first egg had hatched for a Rider. The first Rider after the fall of Galbatorix was an elf named Elendil. He was rather young in elven terms but there was a curious and yet indifferent nature to him like most elves. The news had arrived to Eragon through a chamber that he had specifically made from crystal. There were crystal pillars about the room inlaid with large mirrors and an entire wall was made from a large mirror. It was his scrying room so that he could keep pace with the events in Alagaësia. He also used it to speak with the other leaders as well as his family. One day while he was speaking to Murtagh, his brother had informed him of the news and Eragon was great lightened at the news of a new Rider.

"Islanzadí has just sent word to me," said Murtagh with a smile. "We are waiting until the dragon is a fortnight old until he is sent to me for the foundation of his training."

"That is good news indeed," said Eragon with a smile. Murtagh had been hard at work forming the school for Nasuada and he had heard word from her that it was a well thought plan for they had plenty of magicians who had went to join the academy. Bard and Desdemona headed the academy and together they helped to teach the fundamentals of magic to magicians willing to learn and the outcome were magicians who readily used their knowledge to aid in the Empire's rebuilding or to seek to learn even more. Though there were instances were one or two from the many would use their magic for dark and illicit activities but they were easily sorted out. Not only that, but Nasuada had sent out the senior magicians about Alagaësia to search for children who were capable in the areas of magic. Eragon had no doubt that the academy would grow be leaps and bounds.

As curious as he was about the school, Eragon was more curious about what it was between his brother and the queen. He had not heard word of their relationship being anything apart from queen and allied Rider perhaps there was more that he was missing.

A year after, Elendil was sent to join Eragon and the others at Nyr Doru Aldras. During that year, Eragon had made arrangements for another egg to be sent to the elves and with the cooperation of the elves, he had managed to send it to Du Weldenvarden in a similar manner to how Arya had sent Thorn to Murtagh that one night years before. When Elendil arrived, he could tell that the elf was very interested in the city. He proved to be a respectable and promising student. Whatever task Eragon, Arya, and Oromis set him to, he did it well. However, there were some flaws in Elendil that had to be seen to. The biggest one was his lack of initiative. He did not seem to want to do anything if he was not motioned to do it. There would be plenty of time to amend that as Arya had said.

The dragon that had bonded to Elendil was a proud female dragon with sparkling amber scales. Her name was Lenwë. What Eragon had not predicted was how Saphira would react about the first bonded female dragon that she would teach. It seemed that she had warned Lenwë upon first meeting the dragon that Eridor was her mate and as such Lenwë did not seek to travel such claimed territory. Instead she was more interested in the wild dragons. Seeing that, Eragon had told her against finding a mate as of the moment until she was well into her training. She reluctantly agreed.

While they were training Elendil a year passed and that was when news of a second Dragon Rider reached them. This time a dragon had hatched for a human female named Thea—a student at the academy in Iliera. She was there by chance when the egg was being presented to the inhabitants of the city and had touched the egg. A day passed and she was chosen as the rider of an ash gray, male dragon by the name of Calanor.

And so the years would pass and soon by the tenth year, the halls of Nyr Doru Aldras were inhabited by young Dragon Riders. It was then when they had three new Riders—two human and one elf—did Eragon start to question the possibilities of a dragon hatching for a dwarf or an Urgal. If the others were any indication he knew that the eggs should hatch but they did not and it ate at him at night as he thought about the possibilities about the hatchling within refusing to hatch for the two races.

Another year passed and then another.

When he was beginning to rethink the entire pact, news came from Murtagh late at night that startled him. Another egg had hatched and this time it was for the Urgals. The news had left Eragon speechless. He had not slept the entire night as Murtagh informed him of the identity of the first Urgal Rider. The new Rider was a Kull by the name of Vothav. Disbelief followed with relief and amazement coursed through him and Eragon awaited the arrival of the Kull. He could not comprehend that he was meeting the first Urgal Dragon Rider. He had no doubt that Vothav was going to be remembered in history as the first Urgal to become a Rider.

The burden and pressure he must feel would be a clutch to him in his training. And he was unsure of how the other students would react to training with an Urgal. Elendil may not mind but he was worried about Thea and Dain. They may be more open minded than regular humans but he did not know how they viewed Urgals.

It was true that Urgals had a history of being called beasts by humans but in the past twelve years, they had shown to be different. There were little to no conflicts of Urgals fighting outside their territory and they fought valiantly at the tournaments. Eragon had been unable to visit Alagaësia since he had departed twelve years ago but he had watched the tournament through the crystal scrying room and saw how strong the Urgals truly were. Out of the twelve years that the tournament took place, am Urgal or Kull was made champion thrice. The elves were crowned champions seven times and the dwarves and humans once each. They were beginning to undo their pas history with humans and Vothav was evidence of the change in the Urgals.

Despite his excitement at meeting the Kull, Eragon was rudely awakened when Vothav arrived atop his dragon, a proud male by the name of Maeglin with warm leather brown scales. It proved rather difficult to speak to Vothav. The Kull had an understanding of the native human tongue but it proved hard to try and speak with him through use of the ancient language which was very basic. Not to mention the Kull seemed intent to prove himself the better of the others. It was just in his nature and it was something Eragon had to personally take care of himself.

However, as a student Vothav was progressing rather well. The Kull was eager to learn and within his first year he had managed to speak the ancient language fluidly and was able to hold a conversation with his fellow Riders. Though he was not as graceful as Elendil or as ambitious as Thea, he was strong and resilient with a hardened resolve. His resolve was a trait that Eragon admired in the Kull.

Then three years passed and finally the egg that was in the dwarves possession had hatched. It appeared to Eragon that the eggs given to the Urgals and dwarves needed more time to accustom themselves with the new possible Riders before them unlike the ones given to elves and humans. The first dwarf Rider, shockingly, was a female by the name of Gavril. Her dragon was a male dragon by the name of Beryn. Gavril, Eragon learned, was from the clan of Vrenshrrg. He had vaguely wondered how Íorûnn had reacted to find the first female Rider from within her clan but the thought was washed away when he met Gavril. She was a kind and timid person and was considered a beauty amongst her clan.

It was with her arrival that Eragon was finally put at ease. It took fifteen years but final all the four eggs had hatched and now each race was being represented for in Nyr Doru Aldras and he knew that each Rider was carrying the honor of their race upon their shoulders. Elendil, Thea, Vothav, and Gavril were the first Riders after the fall of Galbatorix and they had to carry that pressure.

Staring out at the window for one more moment, Eragon turned away and continued on his way down the large stone hallway. It was large enough to even accommodate Glaedr as well as Saphira and Eridor all at once. The scale in which they made Nyr Doru Aldras was great. His boots patting softly against the ground, he took a moment to admire the glass-like surface with the elegant carvings etched into it. It truly was a thing of beauty thought Eragon.

Approaching two set of large stone doors, he was barely within five feet of them before they swung outward to reveal a resting chamber for the dragons. Only Saphira, Eridor, and Glaedr used the chamber for they were the leaders of the dragons. The others slept in their buildings that were given to them when they had first arrived.

_Saphira, are you ready to leave? _The large sapphire dragon curled up in the corner beside her emerald mate blinked, revealing her large eyes. She sniffed at the air for a moment before rising to her feet having to nudge Eridor aside to do so. He could feel that she was tired from teaching the acrobatic flying to the dragons and so sent her another message. _Do not worry Saphira. Rest today, I shall take care of the students in today's lesson. _

She snorted. _No, I shall teach them today. Besides, the Eldunarí can always give me energy if I shall need it. _

_Then let us go, _said Eragon with a smile. She waited until he had saddled her, sliding on and strapping his legs in before she padded over to the large open tear drop in the stone wall and jumped forward into the air. Her wings unfurled from the side of her body, larger than they were sixteen years ago and she glided about the citadel until they faced the lush green of the practice field. Since their sparring matches oftentimes became rather vicious, Eragon had constructed a field with the help of the others that was circular and a hundred yards in diameter near the eastern wall of the city.

Already, he saw the five students already waiting for him. Alighting on the ground before them, Eragon easily slid from the saddle to face his students. Elendil—despite being a student for eleven years—was still studying beneath Eragon. It was acknowledged that a Dragon Rider spent many years in learning before they can fully call themselves masters.

They greeted him and he replied in kind. They glanced at him and the spot next to him which was usually occupied by Arya. "Arya shall not be joining us today," said Eragon his eyes flickering from face to face. "She has been feeling ill as of late."

That was true to say in the least. Arya had been waking up late for the past two weeks and recently she was unable to keep her food down. Though Eragon was afraid that she might be coming down with some terrible illness, she merely waved it away. Arya—in all the years he'd known her—had never been sick before. And to see her resting in bed or dispelling her food within two minutes that she'd eaten it made him worry beyond his mind. He was going to have to see to her later once he was done with the students.

"That would mean that I will be teaching you solely today," said Eragon. Oromis and Glaedr had taught the students the two days before last. Seeing that, he had decided to let them rest and pursue their own interests. "The dragons shall fly with Saphira."

_Do not be harsh on them, _Saphira said amused at the thought forming in his mind.

_You and I have different definitions for harsh I believe, _said Eragon smiling inwardly as Saphira hummed, swishing her tail back and forth in the air. She turned to affectionately let out a breath of air over him.

_Much different, _her eyes turned to the five dragons waiting for her. _If I am feeling tired, they must be feeling dreadful. _

_The duties of a dragon, _said Eragon as he watched Saphira crouch preparing to take to the sky. _When you feel like you have taught them enough for the day, return here. I shall be waiting for you and I believe the students would be as well. _

_Once you're through with them they will be, _said Saphira and with that she veered off and away, the five dragons following her. He watched as they flew out form the city towards the lake before the turned his attention to his students. Unlike Eragon who had Vrangr on his back and Brisingr at his hip, they only had one weapon. All of his students apart from Vothav had a Rider's sword. Vothav had asked that Rhunön forge his weapon into an axe and when Eragon had first caught sight of it, it had impressed him—though it limited the Kull's attacking to brutal swings and hacks.

"I will not be teaching you anything new," said Eragon watching the slight disappointment in their faces. "However, I want to see if the five of you can coordinate well together."

With that said, he drew Brisingr and after a moment's though Vrangr as well. Eragon had never used Vrangr when teaching his students. He just didn't think it was appropriate to do so and most of the time he sparred with them one on one and to keep it fair, he only used one sword. He saw their apprehension as he stood before them with both swords.

"I want all of you to see if you can defeat me," said Eragon. When they did not make to draw their swords, Eragon raised a brow. "If you do not draw your weapons, then that means you are surrendering to me."

Vothav was the first to draw his axe and his comrades followed. Eragon nodded, satisfied. "Good now, ward your weapons. There is no need to draw blood." He warded both of his blades and bent his knees, leaning forward slightly. They appeared to be confident that they could hold their own against him. After all the numbers were five to one, he would have to beat them black-and-blue to show them the errors of their ways.

Then without another word, Eragon lunged forward. He did not make for Elendil, the strongest of the five, but rather he arched inwards towards Gavril. She was still relatively young for a Dragon Rider having just recently joined them and therefore her connections with the other students were not strong. Sliding under the swing of Vothav's axe, Eragon turned bringing up Brisingr to knock Gavril's sword from her hands. Not breaking his stride, he turned again and swept his feet under Dain throwing him to the ground. When Thea made to stab through an opening that he had on his left, he shifted his feet bringing up Vrangr to lock hilts with her before bending back and allowing her momentum to cause her to sail over him. Her sword was wrenched from her hand and fell to the ground.

Jumping backwards as Vothav made to swing down on him once more; Eragon crossed both swords and parried the blow. While the Kull struggled to force Eragon to his knees, his mind was already ahead of him. Instead, Eragon brought up both feet and slammed them into his chest, sending the Kull flying backwards as he easily flipped over.

The only person left that was not disarmed or on the ground was Elendil. The elf stared at him with his bright blue eyes and then began to move forward arching towards Eragon from the left and when Eragon made to meet him, he swerved and came from the opposite direction. Sliding his feet against the grass, Eragon turned with him and caught his sword in between both of his. Within a few seconds, Elendil was lying on his back blinking up at Eragon in surprise.

The five of them were nothing compared to his servants, thought Eragon as he straightened. They could not work well together. There was no coordination in between. Even though they were fighting as a group, they went about it like individuals.

"That was quick," said Eragon as he watched them pick themselves up, their weapons, or both.

And it was quick the next six times. The longest they held off against Eragon was ten minutes and that was by sheer annoyance and irritation. He could see it in their eyes. They were all frustrated at how he could easily best them without so much a thought. It wasn't that he had more experience than them or that he had killed Galbatorix but it was that he understood his students well and he knew where their flaws laid despite their best efforts to hide them.

When they were all sporting bruises, Eragon was starting to feel somewhat apologetic towards them. It was certainly going to take more than one lesson to teach them how to cooperate with one another thought Eragon as he watched them pick themselves up, tired and breathing heavily. He, on the other hand, was breathing evenly. But they did not relent. They continued to come at him until each of them were breathing heavily. Watching them brought to memory the time he saw Arya and Murtagh spar with each other until they were battered and unable to stand. It felt so long ago and yet it didn't.

"I do not understand." Thea gasped for air as she leaned on her sword. "How can you beat us so easily?"

"Perhaps we are not strong enough." Vothav supplied in his thick voice.

"Strength is not the defining factor in a battle," Eragon paused as his students watched him as if waiting for him to tell them how to overcome him. "You need to learn how to use your intelligence as well as your eyes. Do not be quick to let your emotions rule you, particularly frustration. The moment you do that is when you open yourselves to greater danger."

"Will you teach us how to see?" asked Dain.

"I can help you but it is a technic you learn on your own," said Eragon as he stood, stretching slightly. He glanced from face to face. "You will also learn how that at times, one must give and another must lead in order for the five of you to learn how to cooperate."

"Of course master," they murmured bowing their heads slightly. Eragon nodded.

"I shall give you five minutes to work a strategy out but from here on out, there will be no communication between the give of you. You must learn to understand your comrades," said Eragon somewhat sternly. They nodded and so he stood there waiting for them to speak amongst themselves. When it was time, he watched as they all spread themselves apart from each other in a wide arch as if to corner him.

He bent his knees and lunged at them. This time, their fighting technique was different. Vothav was the first to charge and when he did, Eragon dodged surprised when at that moment, Dain had arched inward as Vothav shuffled back to try and land a hit. He flipped out of the way to dodge the attack and brought up Vrangr before him and Brisingr behind to parry a blow from Thea and Elendil. Though their technique was better, they were still lacking in trying to work as a cohesive whole.

By the afternoon, the five of them were bruised and battered. Each of them were lying across the ground, heaving for air as Eragon sheathed his blades. It was somewhat unfair to them but he had the help of Arya's soul and several Eldunarí on his side in fighting them. It was needed though to get his message across. As he waited for the dragons to return, which he knew was soon, Eragon thought about the Eldunarí. Known of the students knew about its existence. It was a secret that the dragons did not want to be widely known and Eragon agreed. And so, they reserved from telling the young students deciding to wait until they were wise enough to understand the responsibility of such knowledge.

Just then, he heard a bellow overhead signaling the return of Saphira and the other dragons. _How was your lesson? _He glanced up to find Saphira circling above them; she dipped forward and within moments alighted beside him in a flurry of grace.

_Well, the wild dragons had even decided to cooperate and help teach them, _said Saphira shuffling her wings slightly. Her sapphire eyes landed on the five students and she let out a snort. _You have thoroughly battered your students. I have never seen them so black and blue after a lesson before._

_I was teaching them how to cooperate well with each other, _said Eragon thinking back to his servants.

_They are not them Eragon, _said Saphira softly.

_That does not mean that they cannot learn how to fight together like the four of them did, _Eragon replied. She did not contradict him and instead merely shifted her head from side to side regarding the students with an amused glint in her eyes.

_I do not think they can even rise for the lesson tomorrow, _said Saphira teasingly as Eragon dismissed them.

_They will be fine, _he climbed onto her saddle and she unfurled her wings climbing into the sky. After a long moment, Eragon spoke to her. _Have you decided what you wanted to do with your egg yet? _

_I would like more time to think about it Eragon, _said Saphira. He nodded. Saphira was torn between her wants. She wanted to raise her dragon but she also wanted her dragon to be part of the Riders. It was difficult for her to decide. He was not going to push her. When she was ready she would tell him. Her thoughts suddenly took an amused turn. _I would be more worried about your elf. _

_Is something wrong with Arya? Has she become more ill? _

Saphira mere hummed at his worried thoughts. _You can say that something has happened to her. _

_What is it? _

_Use your head leader, _she teased as she flew towards the large window at the top of the citadel. Rather than landing inside, she merely hovered near the edge allowing Eragon to jump into the citadel.

_Shall I take your saddle? _

_No, I can ask Rosalie to remove it once I return to the dragon hold, _Saphira affectionately licked his face. _I shall see you in the evening Eragon. _

He nodded. They had always eaten dinner together in the evening. It was one of the few things that they as dragon and Rider did. Watching as she flew off, he stepped inside the large window space, closing it up as he noticed that Arya was not yet awake. Surprised, he easily navigated through their living room to their bedroom where he found her resting on their bed.

Her cheeks were a rosy pink and he could tell that she was sleeping from the even rise and fall of her chest. It was already afternoon and she was still fast asleep? Worried, he made his way over to her, kneeling beside her bed. "Arya," murmured Eragon softly reaching up to brush her hair from her face. She stirred but only slightly. "Wake Arya before you sleep the entire day away."

Her complexion appeared as if her skin was pure radiance for some reason that he could not place. Despite the rosiness to her cheeks, there was a healthy look to her which was a contrast to her constant sleeping and her inability to eat well at the moment. Arya stirred, her eyelids fluttering open and she smiled at him. "Good afternoon," Eragon greeted her placing a soft kiss at her hairline.

Her brows furrowed and Eragon chuckled reaching up to smooth the crease in her skin. "You slept throughout the morning so I decided to teach the students today."

"And what did you teach them?" asked Arya still smiling as if she knew a joke that he did not.

"I merely beaten it into them that they need to learn how to cooperate with each other as well as understand their enemies," said Eragon as she softly laughed. "There will be more lessons to come, that I am sure of."

"Do not beat them too much," she scolded him as she moved to sit. He went to prop the pillows behind her back before moving to sit beside her. His hand came up to rest against her forehead. She did not seem feverish.

"Are you still ill?"

She shook her head and now rather him watching her, it seemed that she was watching him. Eragon blinked at her. Was there something wrong with the way he appeared at the moment? Cautiously, he continued. "Have you found out what it was? Perhaps a passing fever of some sort?"

She did not say anything but instead, it seemed as if she was struggling with herself. He waited for her patiently. Living with Arya for almost two decades was a lifestyle that he had easily adapted to. While he waited for her, he let his mind wander. He had lived for sixteen years with Saphira, Arya, and the others away from Alagaësia and his family. It wasn't to say that he did not know what it was that was occurring in the land that he was born in. Nasuada was a respected high queen. In the sixteen years after Galbatorix's fall she had been working constantly to bring about justice and the new laws that her monarchy had formed. The inhabitants of the Empire had forgotten about Galbatorix and instead thrived underneath her rule. However, there was always the danger of those loyal to Galbatorix. Even now there were still attempts on her life but it was getting increasingly difficult to do away with Nasuada for now, with her school of magicians she was heavily protected with not only soldiers but adept spellcasters. There was also the protection that Murtagh gave her but Eragon could not help but warn him that if he became too close without a reason, the following monarchs would believe that they would in turn be protected by him. His brother had to be careful of his interactions with others.

His brother had remained as Eragon had left him, untouched by time. He did as his duty had asked of him and helped to teach the new Riders and dragons until they were well off enough to be sent to Eragon to continue their training. He spoke to Murtagh often through the crystal room and they exchanged the happenings in each other's lives. He spoke to his parents as well but unlike Murtagh, time did leave a mark on them. They were growing older and yet they acted as if time was not the defining factor of their life. They were happy to say in the least. They were always happy when they saw him. One day, he would visit them once more. He would visit them before…

No, he couldn't think like that.

Rather, he decided to think of Ella. His baby sister had grown up to become a beautiful woman with strength and knowledge. The blessings that the dragons had bestowed upon her when she was a babe had given it to her. Though he did speak with Ella as she grew up and he sent her gifts, he knew that there was a lingering resentment in his younger sister. He was not a direct part of her life no matter how many times she heard about him. It was as if they were strangers related by blood and he could only think to believe that she would continue to hold his leaving against him. He did not blame her. Not in the least. Ella, having grown up away from the politics, was a daughter of Carvahall. She grew up beside Ismira, Roran's and Katrina's daughter, and the two of them were as close as sisters. The once backward village of Carvahall in the last sixteen years was no longer and in its place was a bustling city for Roran had made it so. But there was still the fear that one day, Bridget would come to take his life and he would not say a word against it.

It frustrated Eragon to think so. If Bridget took Roran's life, there would be a continuous cycle of revenge. Despite her nature, he was sure that if forced, Ismira would avenge her father even if that did mean killing Bridget. _Such a tradition, _thought Eragon wryly.

He blinked when he felt Arya's hand take his. Shaking his thoughts from his mind, his eyes darted to her and she seemed to have steeled herself for whatever it was that she wanted to tell him. "What is it Arya?" asked Eragon softly squeezing her hand. "You can tell me."

Her emerald eyes flickered away and then back at him. He watched as her red lips parted and a single phrase left them that made his heart stop, stutter, and pound all at once in his chest. Did he hear her correctly?

Arya merely stared at him, her expression impassive as she waited for his reaction. But he did not know how to react. It was something that they had not mentioned since the fall of Galbatorix and they had been so busy with their own obligations that it seemed like they would never get the chance but he had heard her. He had heard her words and understanding came with them.

"_You will be a father soon, Eragon." _

It took him a second to work out the meaning of her words but when he did, astonishment, surprise, and elation filled him. Arya was with a child! His child! It was wonderful news. Unable to help himself, he smiled widely and without another word tugged Arya onto his lap. "That is beautiful news Arya," he said sincerely, his happiness obvious in his voice. After sixteen years, they were going to have their first child. He wrapped his arms tighter about her. "How long have you known?"

"The last five days," she answered truthfully. He raised a brow at her and she inclined her head in return. "I was trying to find the right time to tell you but it never came up."

Not holding it against her, Eragon merely leaned his head down until their foreheads touched. "Is that why you've been sleeping so much lately? Is that also the reason why you cannot stomach food well? Are you supposed to be ill?" He tried to think of his mother when she was carrying Ella but such details were lost on him.

She laughed, "Yes Eragon. It is all normal symptoms of carrying a child." Her emerald eyes sparkled and at that moment, with her cheeks rosy and her red lips curved up sweetly, her beauty was beyond words. He buried his face into her hair as he felt her hands slip about his body removing his swords and gently tossing them to the ground.

He kissed her behind her ear, his hand moving to her stomach feeling the skin of her flat stomach. When would she show he wondered? "How far along are you?" murmured Eragon breathing in her heady scent.

"Four weeks roughly," was her reply and his only response was to kiss her neck causing her to arch her head against his shoulder with a sigh. "You will be a father soon Eragon." Arya repeated and just like that a jolt of elation coursed through him.

"And you will be a mother soon," said Eragon, then he pulled away worried. "Will you be fine? You seem rather tired? Will the baby be fine? Shall I get you something to eat? After all you are eating for two now. Perhaps, I can ask—"

She silenced him the best way she could and when she pulled away, her eyes were dark and she was smiling and he was unsure whether or not it was intentional, but there was a very alluring aspect to her look. She tugged at his shirt, her lashes feathered against his skin as she leaned forward to kiss his collarbone. "I am hungry for something else."

Usually, Eragon would never deny her but he pulled away slightly. "Will that not harm the baby? Perhaps you should rest more Arya, you are tired and I do not want to exhaust you even further. Here, lie down and I shall go see if I can—"

Once more she silenced him and when she pulled away, she was already tugging at his shirt. It must be the fact that she was going to soon be a mother coupled with a few other thoughts that was causing Arya to desire him so greatly. "I will lie down," Arya promised him, her eyes blazing, "And I shall let you take care of me."

He opened his mouth to protest but a moan left his thought when she touched him.

"The baby will be fine." With her reassurance, he gave into her desires and showed her just how much he loved her and the fact that they were soon going to be parents. It was a slow and cherishing moment. He caressed her entire body as she lay beneath him and made sure to be as gentle and yet as loving as he could be. When he was done, he was resting on his side. He was propped up on one elbow, his head resting on his palm while the other was gliding across Arya's body. Within a few more weeks she would soon be large with a child and the thought of it warmed him.

"Does it not scare you?"

Her question was soft but he heard it well enough. Eragon turned to her and nodded, his hand still gliding over her skin. "That I am but I am also happy beyond words. To know that in another few months' time that we will have a child is overwhelming. My dreams during the Second Dragon War are coming into realization. Are you afraid Arya?"

She turned her head towards him. "I am," said Arya softly. "I am still young by elven terms and I do not know…" She trailed off.

"We will learn together then," said Eragon moving to lie down beside her and pulling her close to him. He was going to have to cherish this moment for when her belly was large; it would be hard to sleep so intimately with her. "But I do believe you will make for a good mother."

"Why is that?"

"Because you will love our child dearly."

"Then I believe you shall make for a good father."

"And why is that?" asked Eragon smiling.

"Because you will spoil our child."

He chuckled and nodded then he kissed her hair. "Thank you for giving me this chance to be a father Arya." She did not say anything but her silence was enough. Sometimes words were not needed. Their feelings spoke more than they could possibly encompass in words. She shifted in his arms and for a moment he thought she had fallen asleep.

"Eragon," her voice was still soft.

"Yes?"

"I am rather hungry."

Alarm shot through him, "But I am tired—"

"Not for that," she rolled away from him, not making to rise. "I am hungry for food."

"Oh," remembering how Eridor had went hunting for Saphira for days on end while she was nesting, he moved to his feet pulling on his trousers and tunic. "I shall cook up a feast for you then." Eragon promised her as he gave her a lingering kiss, stuffing his feet into his boots.

Never one to use the kitchen of his own free will, Eragon forced himself to give up his spoilt ways. He remembered vividly how when Saphira was angry with Eridor that she had savagely slammed him against the wall of the nesting house. The emerald dragon did not even try to defend himself since his mate was nesting. He could only think that Arya would not hesitate to show him the same sentiments if he did anything to feed her anger.

He was Eragon Shadeslayer and now he was going to become a father.

**And so this is chapter 1 of 3! Like I said I won't be updating daily but I'm sure it is still rather quick despite it being a few days last that I've updated this story. Wait for the epilogue and I shall hopefully end this story and smoothly work on the next! See you all soon! **


	111. Our Daughter

Our Daughter

**Another chapter yet again. Remember everyone that this chapter and the last are condensed chapters that would detail a possible sequel to this story so there isn't as much dialogue and interactions with the characters. I basically wrote this chapter and the last to open up a world of possibilities were I to write a sequel for this story. Anyways, I hope you will all look forward to the epilogue coming up as well as details for the new IC project of mine. It will take several days but I shall work on it diligently. Anyways R&R. **

Elves are very capricious creatures.

Eragon understood that fact more than anything. It seemed though that the symptoms of carrying a child made their nature even more tenacious, if possible. He had the experience of understanding such. When Arya was at the end of her fourth month of child carrying, Eragon had decided that it was time for a change. Rather than fight him, she merely agreed to all of his decisions. After all, for the first time in her life Arya was with child and with the baby came the many side effects. She was always tired for the first few weeks and whatever she ate that did not agree with her, she ended up dispelling. Not to mention that Arya seemed to crave for strange foods and such. Once she had absentmindedly asked him to make her soup with onions, tomatoes, and honey. He had not argued with her but seeing her eat the soup despite the contrasting flavors made him worry even more.

Eventually when her belly was showing, Eragon had decided that it was time that they stopped with the training and hand it to Oromis for him to take care of. He had spoken to his students about it and they had all congratulated him and Arya and had not put up much resistance at the thought of training under Oromis for the next few months until Arya had given birth and had recovered well enough to return to teaching the students. It was a plan that he thought of himself and seeing Arya's condition, he did not want to wait too long to implement it.

After sixteen years, they were going to return to Alagaësia.

He did not want Arya to feel the stress and pressure of her duty but instead wanted her to be surrounded by her family and her home even though she did not feel at home in Du Weldenvarden. They had readied the ship, _Talíta, _to set sail once more and after gathering half of the Eldunarí with them for the journey and reinforcing the citadel where their quarters were as well as the rest of the Eldunarí, the eggs, and the Great Library, they left for Alagaësia. It felt odd to return to the land that he was born and yet it didn't. But now, Nyr Doru Aldras was more of his home than anything else. While they sailed back, Arya seemed to have been reflecting his grumpiness for she was constantly in a bad mood. He was never really a victim to her anger much in the time he'd known her. But it had suddenly changed for every little thing he did; she would constantly point it out.

"Can you not pace Eragon?"

"Please sit down. I am getting a headache from watching you."

"Do not hug me so tightly Eragon."

He had never heard Arya complain so much before and hearing it now made his head spin. He did not say anything whenever she decided to show her grumpiness. If she dealt with his grumpiness for nearly two decades, he could deal with her grumpiness for the next four months if he had to. It was all for a good cause. When he was feeling near crazy from being confined with only Arya on the ship, Eragon had nearly wanted to jump from the _Talíta. _The dragons were flying ahead of them and Eragon knew that it would only be a matter of time before they reached the elven city of Sílthrim.

It was agreed that they would head to Ellesmeŕa first before they decided to visit the rest of Alagaësia. They had not told Queen Islanzadí or anyone else of the news yet and Eragon could only venture to guess how the queen would react to Arya's condition. It worried him that she might not agree but he thought otherwise. He had to remain positive seeing as Arya was now constantly jumping back and forth from elation to utter venom.

It was near the afternoon when they docked and Eragon was glad to be rid of the confining space of the ship even thought it was quite large. Instead, he opened the door to the cabin and climbed the wooden stairs that led up to the deck. Undoing the latch, he pushed the door open and stepped out letting the sun bathe his skin in its warmth. Fixing the strap of Vrangr on his back, he emerged onto the deck and made his way over to starboard and was surprised by the sight that greeted him. Standing on the shores of the river was a large crowd of elves—men and women alike—and before them standing proud and tall was Queen Islanzadí as he had left her on the pebble beach. She was still imposing and her regality was unchallenged but there was a kindness to her that he did not see before. Perhaps, sixteen years had changed the elves. Or it had started the wheel of change.

At the sight of him, the elves burst out into melodious cheers and he smiled feeling the welcoming return to Alagaësia. He heard a sigh and turned to find Arya emerging from below deck. She was rubbing her back, her belly round and protruding. It forced her to wear dresses—a thing that she did not like to wear. "It appears as if the entire city has come to greet us," she said wryly but there was a happiness to her expression that was not there yesterday. He smiled at her glad that she was not cross with him for a moment and held out his hand for her to take. Arya had gained extra weight but that was to say that she was not graceful despite her somewhat unsteady gait.

Letting her glide to his side and into the view of all to see he watched the astonishment that coursed through each and every single face as they took in Arya's round belly and her beautiful complexion. His eyes darted to Queen Islanzadí to find that she was staring at her daughter with wide eyes that were starting to take on a glassy shine as if she was going to shed tears.

Keeping Arya steady on her feet as they descended the gangplank, the two of them stopped before the queen. She took a moment to greet Eragon who replied in kind. Then Arya greeted her mother and that seemed to be the break in the tension for the moment her words left her lips, Islanzadí had swept forward and embraced her daughter tenderly careful not to cause her any discomfort.

"My daughter," Eragon turned away trying to give them some moment of privacy though he could easily hear the words be exchanged between them. "It seems as if you never come back to see me as you left. Now you are with a child."

"It seems such," agreed Arya as they pulled away. Instantly her hand came to rest on her back as she rubbed it. From her expression, he could tell that she was feeling uncomfortable. Eragon could not blame her in the least. He did not know the feeling of carrying a child but he could tell that it was no easy task. "It has been a long sixteen years mother."

"That it has but let us not speak of that just yet," said Islanzadí. "You and Eragon have finally returned and it is only right that we celebrate your return as well as your unborn child." She turned and raised her hand shouting to the gathered elves and as one they began to cheer and laugh, ecstatic that their princess was going to have a child soon. "You are tired Arya. We shall rest in Sílthrim for the day and tomorrow we shall make way for Ellesmeŕa. Where are Saphira and Eridor?"

"Waiting for us at the city I believe," Arya answered as she let her mother escort her to the city as if she were a delicate porcelain doll. Eragon could only stare after mother and daughter and then he sighed. He was still elated that he was going to be a father but the stress of running about and dealing with an Arya that would one moment affectionately lavish him with her attention to berating him about the way his hair stood made him weary. He followed safely behind them keeping his eyes trained on Arya as he spoke to whoever it was that decided to converse with him. If Arya needed him, all she had to do was glance back and he would be within reach.

Mother and daughter walked together towards the city and they made to the center of the wooden buildings where the elves were gathering tables and chairs for them. Overhead, Eragon saw Eridor and Saphira circling above the trees. He glanced at Arya as she conversed with her mother without a care in the world and could only be grateful that he was not going to be alone in the festivities.

Islanzadí sat at the head of the table and Arya sat on her left and Eragon sat on Arya's left. He made do whenever someone asked him a question about his travels or when he was politely listening to another speak of their days but his attention was solely focused on Arya and her needs. Whenever her hand came close to a goblet filled with mead, Eragon would drink it all afraid she might accidentally grab it and down it herself. Liqueur would not be good for the baby. When she craved for something he would give it to her. It helped that Islanzadí was also taking great care of Arya but his mate's attitude these last few weeks kept Eragon on his toes.

It was late into the evening that Arya had retired to a hall with her mother therefore leaving Eragon to take care of all the celebrating elves. He spent his hours eating and drinking for him, Arya, and Islanzadí. The hours droned on and he sometimes found himself with Saphira or Eridor but more often than not, he was speaking to a group of excited elves, retelling his story to everyone in range, and dancing to the music that came into existence seemingly from nowhere. It wasn't until Islanzadí had returned was Eragon given a moment's respite.

_You are drunk, _Saphira teased nudging him with her snout. Eragon shook his head glad that he did not stumble despite how heavy his body felt. _You can barely stand straight. _

_I am just trying…to appreciate the festivities Saphira, _even his mental voice sounded rather dull. He shook his head as he patted her on her snout causing her to blink. _How come you haven't had any mead yet? You can drink barrels full! _

She snorted while Eridor made a choking sound akin to laughter. _She most certainly can. _

_Do not tease me; _Saphira said nudging her emerald mate beside her with her tail. The dragon merely snorted. Then she turned back to Eragon and watching as he coughed into his elbow added, _perhaps it is time that you retire for the night. Eridor and I shall keep the revelers company. It will not bode well if you leave Arya to merely enjoy in the merriments. _

_She may toss you against a wall, _joked Eridor as Saphira huffed indignant.

Eragon nodded and bid them a sloppy goodnight. Then with as much grace as he could muster, he made his way for the hall they were staying in. It took several minutes as well as some guidance from the other elves until he found the quarters that he and Arya were residing in across from Islanzadí's. Opening the screen door, he closed it before closing the wooden door behind him. There was a single lamp lit in the living room to give him light and rather than join Arya in the bedroom, he pulled his swords off and placed them on the table as quietly as he could before shrugging free of his boots and then without any poise fell onto the couch to sleep.

Arya would not enjoy sleeping beside him when he smelt of mead. Her sense which were already acute became even more so since she found out that she was with child. _Look at me, _thought Eragon sarcastically, _the vanquisher of Durza, the Kingkiller, the leader of the Riders, and the holder of the key to Alagaësia unable to face his own mate. _He grumbled to himself just glad that he had gotten through the day intact and without any broken bones or without being tossed to the wall.

Sleep was not difficult to come by seeing as he was rather intoxicated. The mead combined with his love to sleep made it easy for him to become familiar with the couch and drift off. It wasn't until he felt a soft hand grip his did he come to. Blinking, his eyes met bright emerald ones and he nearly jumped at the sight of Arya. Still somewhat in a haze from his earlier drinking, Eragon glanced at her taking in her rather thin, silky nightgown that seemed to whisper over her skin and gulped. Despite the extra weight she'd gain, she was still desirable, very much so. Pushing the thought from his head, he sat up and turned to her.

"Is there something wrong?" his eyes darted to the timepiece on the small table. It was early morning. He stood, heavy on his feet as he reached out for his mate. "You should be sleeping Arya." He then stopped remembering the last time he touched Arya. She had been out of sorts and had glared at him as if he had done something unpleasant.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Arya had reached forward and touched his arm, her fingers gliding up his skin and across his shoulders. They then curved upwards twining into his hair, her nails running along his scalp causing goosebumps to rise up all over his body. He could not remember a time recently when Arya had touched him like so. He had thought that sort of affection had died out the moment she started showing.

Instead, she pulled him to her and Eragon could only follow her afraid of being scolded once more. When she wanted to be, Arya could be quite terrifying. What she did next nearly caused him to choke. She had reached down to loop her fingers through his belt loops and pulled him close. Then she rose up on her tiptoes to press her lips to the underside of his jaw.

"Come to bed with me, Eragon."

Her fingers released his belt loop and he whimpered when they went lower. If she was torturing him, she was doing it rather well. He only hoped that when she decided to end his tortures, she would be kind enough to let him sleep rather than argue with him. But she did not relent, instead she pressed against him and he felt his body react faster than his mind could catch up as her body which was barely covered rubbed against his. Was she deliberately trying to kill him?

When he tried to speak, she effectively cut him off and then with her fingers gripping the front of his tunic, she pulled him with her into their bedchamber. Still rather intoxicated from his earlier drinking, he blinked when Arya pushed him onto the soft mattress, climbing to settle herself over him. Before he could say anything, she pressed her lips to his, her hand coming out to grip his and bring them to her body.

It was safe to say that he did not sleep that night and nor did he ever think Arya could crave his touch as much as she craved food at the moment. It seemed like being with child made her hunger for all sorts of things.

"Where is Arya?" Islanzadí greeted him the next morning.

"She will be here in a moment," said Eragon as he ran his hand through his damp hair. He never thought that he would wake up before Arya all of his own but he did. That in itself was a miracle. Islanzadí did not question why her daughter was late. She decided to scrutinize him however.

"You have changed a great deal," observed Islanzadí. "It appears as if Arya was not the only one who returned different from how she was."

"I had to," Eragon replied as she nodded.

Her eyes flickered to the horses that where grazing at the grass waiting for them to disembark and back at him. "Will you be attending the Tournament? I believe it would do the whole of Alagaësia much good to see the Rider who defeated Galbatorix returned."

"If Arya is feeling better then I see no reason why we should not attend," said Eragon truthfully. He doubted Arya could travel the distance well. He did not like the idea of her flying on Eridor but he knew that if she wanted to there was nothing he could do to dissuade her from the thought. "Has much changed since we have left sixteen years ago?"

"It will all depend on how you view change," said Islanzadí her eyes roaming the trees about them. "Our people have been slowly adapting to the difference in our lives. No longer do we need to stay isolated from the world. No longer do we have to hide what we are and where we are from. But there will always be those that exist that envy my people. As much as Alagaësia is changing for the better, there will always be the stain of darkness that accompanies change. You may have ushered us into a new era Eragon but do not mistake that for a clean slate. There are much left to be done—prejudices to be addressed, enmities to be dissolved, and bonds to be formed."

"I had thought Nasuada was working well with the elves," said Eragon perplexed at her words.

"Nasuada as high queen wishes to see us fairly but you know as well as I that oftentimes a queen's resolve does not necessarily reflect her subjects. There are those that are still afraid of elves, dwarves, and most especially Urgals. A tournament will not always hold the alliances and though the order of the Riders exist to further the cause of peace, it will be difficult to do so when you do not exist in Alagaësia and are still rather young. People will not acknowledge authority if you do not seek to assert it."

His eyes narrowed as he turned to Islanzadí. Something about her words made him uneasy. "Is someone seeking to…disrupt the peace?" asked Eragon.

She shook her head, her hair swaying lightly with the motion. "Now, no…but within time there shall be someone to challenge the rule of the high queen and whoever it might be that succeeds Nasuada. It may be one of Galbatorix's loyal followers seeking revenge, it may be another race vying for land and power, it may be Orrin's descendants who will feel as if they were cheated from their spoils of war, or it could be an entirely new threat altogether. Time, Eragon, can be a great friend and a great foe. When you become involved in politics you shall understand it."

He wanted to say more but stopped when Arya appeared, dressed in an emerald dress with red lace trims. She smiled at him warmly and memories of last night came back to him as he remember just how enthusiastic she was during their time together. Apparently, her emotions had yet to wear off. It made Eragon all the more grateful.

"Good morning mother," Arya greeted Islanzadí after initiating the formal salutations desired in elven culture.

Queen Islanzadí returned the sentiment, "I take it that the day sees you well." Her eyes flickered from Arya to Eragon but she did not say any more.

"It does," agreed Arya as she walked over to Eragon's side. "I am ready to depart."

"Then let us," Eragon led her over to the mare that they would be riding. With great care, he helped to situate Arya atop the noble horse before gracefully heaving himself up and onto the saddle. Sliding his arms around Arya to grip the reigns, Eragon nodded to Islanzadí and her guards. She turned forward and with a motion of her hand, they started forward in the direction of Ellesmeŕa.

It was a silent journey mostly seeing as Eragon did not want to speak to Islanzadí amongst the others nor did she seemed inclined to return the sentiment as well. He spent the many miles in silence, his arms wrapped about Arya's round belly. Oftentimes, he would release one hand to rest it on her belly. Absentmindedly rubbing Arya's belly, he smiled as he thought of their unborn child. A few more months, he would be holding their child in his arms. The thought of it elated him.

_Do you think we will have a daughter? _

It was a curious question that he wanted to know Arya's own thoughts to. She shifted in his arms before answering. _I do not know. But whether our child is a boy or a girl, I will love them without cause. _

_As will I, _said Eragon. It was true. If it was a girl he would love her dearly. And if it was a boy, he would love his son just as much. It was impossible to think that he wouldn't love his child. Feeling her lingering exhaustion from not being able to sleep much, he kissed the back of her head. _Sleep Arya, we will not be arriving at Ellesmeŕa anytime soon. _

The days passed by just as quickly as they did at Nyr Doru Aldras. Arya's earlier grumpiness seemed to have dissipated as they lived in Ellesmeŕa with Saphira and Eridor. Though Eragon made sure to keep in contact with Oromis and his students daily to make sure they were handling themselves well. What was more was how overly affectionate his mate was becoming with him. He was not used to a vivacious Arya but he could certainly get used to it seeing as she was not cross with him every other minute of the day.

However, as the days began to tick down his anxiety was starting to show itself. He was on edge with every step Arya took and every time she paused, her hands flying to her stomach as she felt the baby kick. He had remembered the first time he felt their child kick within her stomach and he had nearly collapsed on the ground in shock. If only they had a book for Riders that detailed the female body during child carrying. It would help alleviate his worries if slightly. Days in and days out, the two of them had relaxed underneath the pines of the forest. It was clear that Arya was feeling more at ease as time passed and she was often with her mother speaking about the past sixteen years that had passed for them. Eragon made sure to stay away from such mother-daughter discussion. He did not feel as if he had a place during their time together. Instead, he went to study Ellesmeŕa trying to evaluate whether or not there was any changes over the years. It appeared wholly unchanged to him but there were slight differences. The elves appeared to be more outgoing rather reserved and introverted. There were those willing to step outside of their small world for something more.

Despite their relaxations, it was asked of Eragon by Nasuada's court once they heard word of his return to Alagaësia that he participated in the tournament that year not as a contestant but to merely oversee the competition with the others. The leaders of the races were to meet at Urû'baen where a large stadium was erected for the purpose of the games. It was certainly an event for fanfare.

Rather than riding one of the mares that Islanzadí had proffered, Eragon had decided to fly on Saphira and while Arya was now heavy with child, the elves had sung for her a carriage built to be comfortable for long travels. The days it took to arrive to the capital of the Empire took double the time it would have taken had they flown on dragon back but Eragon was cautious of putting Arya in danger.

Urû'baen was certainly a different city thought Eragon as he rode atop Saphira. The brick houses were lined with citizens as they watched the elves enter their streets. Some did no more than merely look on in awe while others stared in distaste. But there was one expression that they turned his way: admiration. He did not know what it was that was told of him and Saphira within the Empire but he could tell that the stories bordered those of legends.

Keeping his eyes peeled, he stared straight ahead his eyes landing on the figure that stood on a raised platform waiting for them. She wore a royal purple dress with gold cuts and a beautiful crown atop her head. He remembered how the dwarves and elves had made her the simple object of her Empire sixteen years ago and it gave him a strange sense of vertigo to know that he was there to see it. Time had touched Nasuada but she stood tall and regal as he had remembered her. She stood like a queen.

When Saphira stopped before her, Eragon easily slid from the saddle and he made his way towards Nasuada, his old friend watching him intently. Then to show his respect for her, he bowed slightly but not enough to convey the sense that he was beneath her. The days that he'd spent training the new Riders had taught him how large of a title he held. He could not easily make his position appear inconsequential and insignificant.

"Your Majesty," Eragon greeted her formally as he straightened, "It is good to see that you are well my lady."

"And you as well Eragon Shadeslayer," she extended the formalities to him. His eyes flickered to the people standing behind her and he caught sight of his brother and spared him a look before letting his eyes dart to the aged commander beside Murtagh. His blond hair had dulled and appeared grayer but his blue eyes were still bright despite the laugh lines that had appeared. A surge of emotions went through him as he took in Bard, his once laughing cook, now a teacher and a commander. His eyes flickered to the two people beside him and he saw Desdemona and Finny.

Desdemona was beautiful despite her age and the few streaks of gray in her hair; standing by her side with his arm about her waist was a tall man with a trim waist and broad shoulders. His handsome face was framed with chestnut hair and bright emerald eyes. Her husband? He was at a loss for words as his eyes landed on the last person. Finny had grown taller and stronger and now he looked like Bard did sixteen years ago.

Were they really his servants?

It was almost impossible to imagine. He turned to help Arya from the carriage and he saw the expression that crossed Nasuada's face as she took in her condition. Arya was no longer the elven ambassador that had helped in the downfall of Galbatorix. She was now going to become a mother and he could spot the clear longing in Nasuada's eyes for such a thing. Keeping a hand about Arya, he watched as Islanzadí greeted Nasuada and then they were waved inside to the citadel to a hall where they would be feasting before the start of the tournament in the following day.

Careful to help Arya, the two of them were greeted by Murtagh first. His brother had stopped before them and was near gaping at the sight of Arya's large belly. He was no doubt having a hard time trying to connect the fact that the Arya before him was the same Arya who had killed Shruikan sixteen years ago.

"Congratulations," Murtagh eventually said in a strangled voice.

"Thank you brother," said Eragon with a smile, "It appears you will have another child to be an uncle to."

"Yes, yes it appears so," said Murtagh still looking rather stunned. He continued to look at Eragon and Arya with wide eyes before he came to himself. "Mother and father are here. They heard about your return and they wanted to come and see you."

"Where are they?" he craned his head about for their parents.

"Waiting in the hall with Ella," said Murtagh and at the mention of their younger sister, there was a slight tense in the atmosphere before Eragon nodded sharply. With one last glance at Arya, Murtagh led the way inside.

"You do not want to see your sister," said Arya as they walked, he could tell from the sharp crease in her brow that her back was paining her and reached forward to place his hand on her back. The last seven months he had done well in reading her emotions and how she felt at the moment.

"She will not be happy to set eyes on the brother that had abandoned her," said Eragon quietly as they walked through the marble halls. "You know as well as I do Arya that Ella resents not being able to see me. I am a stranger to her that she speaks to through mirrors—a stranger that she hears about through stories and word of mouth."

"Do not be so harsh on yourself," murmured Arya sighing softly as he rubbed a tense knot in her middle lower back.

He made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. They continued walking and Murtagh turned a corner to lead them into a rather extravagant main hall where several people of importance were gathered. His eyes immediately scanned the hall for his family and it landed on an aged couple standing with a woman with flowing chestnut hair and bright blue eyes. The moment her eyes landed on him however, he saw a gleam enter the sapphire irises as she pressed her lips together tightly. He wasn't expecting anything else apart from that from Ella but his parents were different. Though they had not seen him for sixteen years in person, they came towards him sweeping him up in their arms welcoming him home and when they took in Arya's swollen belly, they were just as stunned as Murtagh was.

"I see you shall be a father soon," said Brom gruffly as he patted his son on the back.

"And you shall be a grandfather," said Eragon with a slight smile. His eyes darted to Ella who was staring at Arya with an unreadable expression. When she glanced to him, she merely inclined her head and that was when Eragon noticed what she was wearing. She was not wearing a dress or skirt but rather clothing akin to that of a man. A sword hung at her hip.

"Ella is participating in the tournament this year," said Murtagh at Eragon's confused expression. "She passed the preliminaries as a top contender. I would not worry about her." He could not say anything as he glanced at his younger sister once more before turning to greet Orik as well as King Orrin and his rather haughty son. When time permitted he was reunited with his servants once more. Desdemona, Eragon had learned, had married a man who attended the school of magic. He was a year older than her and his name was Alfred but they had married twelve years ago and they had a son that was nine years old. To say that he was shocked was an understatement. But there was something about Alfred that reminded him of someone else. His cold mannerism and aloof disposition stood out to him. Bard had not married but continued to serve in Nasuada's army as the chief commander, especially after Jörmundur had passed away. He was also the head teacher at the academy. Finny was merely assisting where he could in Urû'baen.

To see his servants again was a blessing and he could only hope that time would stand still for them for he knew that it would be several more years before the three were taken from his life permanently.

But there was little time to be spent with his family. Everything despite the celebrations and festivities were all formalities. Events blurred past and he could scarcely remember anything about the tournament apart from the tremendous crowd gathered in the stadium, Nasuada's powerful voice amplified with magic echoing over the watching audience of Urgals, elves, dwarves, and humans, Saphira's and Eridor's combined bellows, and Eragon himself had to give a speech. He was rewarded with pounding feet and yells before he was given the honor of commencing the tournament.

They all fought valiantly but there was one person who cut through the ranks. He had never thought his sister would be so proficient with a sword. _One less thing I know about her. _But she fought against human, dwarf, Urgal, and elf until she made her way to the finals in which her opponent was an elf. He was unsure of whether it was her blessing or her skill that gave her such strength but after an hour of struggle, she knocked the sword from her opponent's hand and was declared the champion.

He remembered Nasuada awarding her the prize and how he wanted to congratulate her but she immediately left when she caught sight of Arya. Confused, Eragon could only watch his sister be pulled into an embrace by Murtagh and sighed. To think he thought he was on good footing with everyone in his family. Feeling awkward once more, Eragon had joined in on the feasting that was laid out to congratulate the winner and was resigned to merely staring at his family from afar as they enjoyed themselves. Maybe he really did not belong in Alagaësia. He felt like a stranger in a stranger's presence.

"Eragon," he blinked turning to find Ella standing a few paces behind him and his heart fell somewhat. She called Murtagh 'big brother' and yet she referred to him by his name. _At least she's even speaking to you. _

"You should be sleeping," said Eragon. If he judged the time correctly, it was early morning. "You had a tiring day. It takes great strength to win such a tournament as you had."

"Are you…proud?" asked Ella nervously, her melodious voice soft. He really never understood where her perfection came from. Was it a side effect of the blessing that Thorn, Saphira, and Eridor gave her or was it simply from their parents?

"Of course, I doubt I could win," said Eragon and he saw the doubt that crossed her face at his words but she didn't push him. Instead she reached forward towards him as if asking for a hug and he hesitated before awkwardly embracing her. After a moment, he pulled away.

"Are you leaving soon?" asked Ella.

Eragon nodded, "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to return to Ellesmeŕa with Islanzadí and Arya. We are only staying until the baby is born and when Arya has recovered enough to travel back to Nyr Doru Aldras." Apparently that was the wrong thing to say for Ella's expression immediately became guarded. Did she have something against Arya?

"The only reason you returned to Alagaësia is for Arya?"

Unsure of where exactly the conversation was heading, Eragon nodded. "I did not want her to become stressed with her duties. It was an opportune moment for us to return if only for a brief moment." If anything, Ella's expression became even more severe.

"Yes of course," she murmured mostly to herself. "I shouldn't have expected much." Not bothering to explain her murmurings, she turned to him before giving him a strained smile. "Well, goodnight Eragon."

"Good night Ella."

He did not have any time to ponder the strangeness of his return to the Empire. His farewells the next day seemed short and inadequate but everyone seemed so busy with their lives that it was difficult for him to spend any sort of time with them. He did not fit, he did not belong. It became so obvious and clear being with them once more after sixteen years. His life was no longer in Alagaësia and despite the people and the memories, it belonged elsewhere.

The days passed and winter settled over Ellesmeŕa and it was during the harshest of winters that their child had decided to come. He had been merely reading some scrolls and documents he had found in the library of Ellesmeŕa before one of the elves from Arya's house came rushing up to him, telling him that Arya was currently going through labor.

He had never run as fast as he had until that day.

Arya was lying in a chamber that was rarely used if ever for births. When he had burst through, he saw a dozen elves about the bed and scrambling to and from the room as their princess lay propped up against the pillows, her face one of anxiety as they prepared to sing her baby from her womb. She was in the center of all the frenzied activity, a white blanket covering her swollen belly. When she caught sight of him, her anxiety was alleviated and she reached out to him searchingly. His heart pounding and his legs weak, he hurried to her side. He had to remain strong for Arya. This was a process that they were both going through even if it was Arya that was going through labor.

He was unsure of how his father felt when Ella was born. Did he feel extremely nervous and yet exhilarated at the same time? Did he feel fearful and ready to retch on the spot?

Wrapping an arm about Arya as he stopped by her bedside, he tossed the pillows to the side and moved to sit behind her knowing that she wanted the physical comfort that only his body could offer her. From her tense body and trembling bottom lip, he could tell that Arya was fearful and her expression only served to make him more determined to be the stronger of the two of them while she gave birth to their child. He felt Arya convulse against him as a contraction tore through her body.

"Let us greet our child Arya," murmured Eragon as he sat behind her. She nodded as another contraction tore through her. His eyes connecting with the nearest of elves, Eragon nodded to them. Then a song filled the room, a song so sweet it made one want to weep. They sang a lullaby which was filled with joy. Joy that touched the heart and moved the mind. And soon, Eragon joined in on the singing his voice standing out clearly in the song. But it did not ruin the lullaby; the emotions in the song grew to a tremendous height. Her earlier convulsions gone, Arya reached up to touch his face her head turning so that her bright eyes could stare up at him. In those emeralds he saw the devotion in her eyes and the beginnings of joy at the prospect of seeing their child soon—their child born from their love and her body. He could only share in her sentiments as he merely smiled and in return took her hand and intertwined it with his before settling both of their hands on her swollen belly.

After some time, the singing started to slow into soft whispers as a cry filled the room. One of the people hovering about the bed reached forward and wrapped the baby in blankets gently washing the baby of fluids from the mother's womb. After a moment, the person walked forward and handed the content mother her baby saying in a lilting voice filled with great joy, "Your daughter, Arya Dröttningu."

Arya turned to stare at him. Eragon could only guess as to how his expression appeared for he felt a fierce joy bubble in his chest as his eyes darted to the small bundle in his mate's arms. "Eragon…" she whispered as if unbelieving. He turned to her smiling as she cradled the baby to her chest for them to gaze at.

"Our daughter…"

She gave another cry and as the elves congratulated them, Eragon only had eyes for their daughter. He did not even realize it until he glanced up that they were left alone with their baby. He could only stare at her, the fragile creature in Arya's arm. She was his daughter…The idea was so strange and yet, so beautiful. As he stared at her, he could only feel a strong warmth and love flow through him. He would protect her. He would do everything for his daughter and now that she was here—a part of his world, his determination to protect her was doubled. He reached out as if afraid to touch her but after taking in Arya's bright emerald eyes which were shining with a film of tears; he did so gently rubbing his daughter on her chubby arms. She opened her eyes to stare at him and he could only wander what colors her eyes were after seeing the bright blue. Would it change into dark emeralds like Arya's?

Their daughter was quiet for a moment before she let forth a cry and Eragon glanced at Arya in worry afraid that she may be in pain but after a moment of tentatively touching their daughter's mind, she merely waved away his concerns telling him that their daughter was merely hungry. He watched awed as Arya shifted her in her arms and held her closer to her breast. She cried for a moment and he watched in complete amazement as their daughter's lips latched about Arya's nipple, suckling at her milk.

"I can't believe it…" said Eragon as he watched, tucking the blanket away so that it did not interfere with Arya's breastfeeding. He took in the tuft of dark hair on her head and could only blink. "Our daughter…I…it seems impossible."

Arya merely laughed lightly her expression one of pure joy as she stared down at their newborn baby. "She is real Eragon and you are her father."

"We are parents," said Eragon faintly finally feeling the full effects of the words. Arya nodded and Eragon could only reach down and kiss her tenderly careful not to jostle their baby. When he pulled away, Arya glanced back down at their baby a hint of exhaustion in her face. "What is it? Are you tired? I can call the others in so that you may rest."

"We need to name her Eragon," said Arya softly, her bright emerald eyes turning to him.

He froze on the spot and as much as he wanted to leave the naming to Arya he felt as if he should take responsibility. Arya had carried their daughter for nine months and had endured fatigue, an uneasy stomach, and constant cravings, and such for the entire stretch. It was only fair that he do his part and after seeing her deliver their daughter so beautifully it hardened his resolve that he should name their daughter in a way that was fitting. He stared at the little bundle in Arya's arms and reached down to gently caress her red cheeks with his finger. Her lips parted and he glimpsed the white liquid that clung to the tip of Arya's nipple before it was concealed once more.

A name…He needed a name that was fitting. She was their daughter. She was the daughter of Arya Dröttningu, Rider, Shadeslayer and Dragonkiller. She was the daughter of Eragon Bromsson, Shadeslayer, Rider, and Kingkiller. She was their daughter and he wanted her to have a name that she could carry of her own. He wanted her to have a name that she would be proud of. He would think of a name for her. He would think of a name for their daughter thought Eragon smiling as he felt his eyes sting as he stared down at their baby.

_A name for our beautiful daughter._

**To be honest I am totally stuck for a name for their daughter. I have a few possibilities but there is one in particular that I'm vying for. I'll weigh my options before I put up the epilogue. Anyways, one chapter left and this story shall be officially done! Please wait until the last chapter everyone! I promise it will return to a comfortable atmosphere with Eragon rather than all of this recounting and such! Anyways, I hope to see you all soon! **


	112. Epilogue

Epilogue

**The moment we have all been waiting for...R&R Everyone. **

Change was neither good nor bad.

It was a mere accumulation of knowledge that differed from the norm and it was in the power of the observer to decide what to do with it. He understood that fact now more than anything. And that was why he saw this change in his life as good—it was a miracle that was given to him. Had anyone told him twenty-two years ago that he would end up changing the world and his own life in the process for the better; he would have thought them ridiculous and crazed. But it was true for here he was in a city he had helped to create, leading an Order that would safeguard the peace of the world. More importantly, he was here with Saphira, Arya, and his daughter.

"Father," he glanced over at his five year old daughter who was much too intelligent for any other child her age but then again, Arya seemed to be impressing on her the importance of knowledge lately.

"What is it Evanthe?"

Having taken up the task of naming their daughter, Eragon had wanted to find a way to honor Arya's late father. The man had sacrificed his life for his daughter and in that one moment, Eragon understood. Though Arya had been young since the death of her father, she understood his sacrifice. Evandar wanted her to live in a world without fear, tyranny, and death. He gave his life for her and Islanzadí and in doing so; he relinquished his time with his only daughter. In that one moment, he felt as if he understood Evandar more than he ever could as one father to another. Looking down upon their daughter at that moment, the name had struck a chord in Eragon. It was a way for them to honor Arya's late father and reinforce the fact that every daughter was beloved of their parents.

Evanthe blinked up at him with her wide doe eyes and he knew instantly that she wanted something that he would be hard pressed to give her. Usually, Evanthe could ask anything of her parents and they would give it to her. But when it was something difficult or something that Evanthe knew her parents did not particularly agree on she would use her 'persuasiveness' to get what she pleased. Eragon blamed Arya for that particular trait in their daughter.

"When will I be able to learn how to fight with a sword?" she asked, her innocence tinged with a hint of curiosity. Eragon blinked at her question before frowning. He had deliberately kept Evanthe away from weapons of any sort. She wasn't going to wield a sword until she was older. He did not want her to learn how to fight at such a young age. It was one thing that he and Arya both agreed upon when she was born. They would teach her about the ways of the world and until she was old enough, they would hold off teaching her how to wield a blade. Though he was sure Evanthe would be able to pick up on the skill naturally he would like to be given the benefit of the doubt just this once.

"When you are older," said Eragon leaving no room for argument. She looked like she wanted to plead more but Eragon merely shook his head directing her attention back to the parchment she was writing on. "If you do not finish, your mother will be upset with you."

"But father," Evanthe peered up at him with her imploring expression, "I have done the same exercises all day. Can we finish my lesson here?" _And that is why Arya should never ask me to teach our daughter, _thought Eragon torn. Evanthe was right. They had spent the better part of the day working on her handwriting which was beginning to take an elegant form but far from the masterful lines that Arya or even he could produce. But she was only five! He certainly did not learn how to write when he was five. Peering down at the parchment, Eragon nodded. They had done enough for the day and if Arya was going to scold someone for slacking it would be him for allowing Evanthe to slack away from her lessons.

"We have worked enough," agreed Eragon as he stroked his daughter's hair, he slid the paper away from her and placed it on his large maple desk in his study. His daughter only beamed at him as she began to pile away her inkwell and quill. "What do you want to do today, Evanthe?"

Her legs swung from the cushioned armchair she sat in as she thought about his question seriously. After a moment, she turned her wide emerald eyes onto him with a hopeful expression, "Can I watch mother teach the students today? I promise I will not interrupt her." The last part she said earnestly and seeing as she was speaking in the ancient language he knew his daughter was not lying. Eragon thought for a moment. Arya had decided to see to the students today so that he could watch over Evanthe but he didn't see the harm of not allowing their daughter to observe her mother whilst she was teaching.

"Of course," he reached down and picked up his daughter allowing her to wrap her legs about his waist and her arms about his neck. Since he was unnaturally strong, Evanthe weighed nothing in his arms. She was as light as a feather and therefore he never really complained about carrying his daughter about. He was not looking forward to the day that Evanthe grew too old for him to carry or too independent. His daughter, however, was unlike Arya in that aspect. She clung to her parents wherever they went and though she was independent it did not stop her from wanting to be held or cuddled by either of them.

Making his way out of his study, he continued through their chambers until he reached the door to the actual staircase that led down to the ground floor and the hall that would lead into the city where he would be able to take Evanthe with him to where Arya was training their students. Descending the stairs, Eragon was content to merely reveling in the closeness with his daughter but Evanthe had other plans.

If there was one thing that could describe their daughter, it was that Evanthe was very curious about the world. "Father?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do we live so high up?"

_Indeed, _thought Eragon amused. Oftentimes, they would descend from the citadel on dragonback but seeing as Eridor and Saphira had left earlier with Arya, he had to take the steps down. "Well, it is to give your mother and I a good vantage point of the city."

"Why?"

"So that we may see what happens below us," he smiled as he took in the sparkle of her emerald eyes.

"Why?"

"So that we can guard against any sort of threats that might come our way," answered Eragon truthfully. Though Evanthe was young, he never liked to lie to his daughter. If there was a question that he felt that he could give an answer to, he would without hesitation. She blinked up at him once like an owl, her brows creasing. Instead of asking more about the subject, she turned away from it altogether bringing forth another subject. It was in these rare moments when her intelligence shown.

Halfway down the staircase, an amused question suddenly occurred to Eragon as he turned his brown eyes to his daughter's verdant ones. "Evanthe," his daughter waited for him to speak. "How come you never ask your mother to come visit me when I am teaching?"

"Because mother doesn't let me," said Evanthe simply, her emerald eyes sparkling as she smiled prettily up at him. Eragon merely raised a brow at her answer before he continued.

"Oh I see how it is," said Eragon feigning a hurt expression. "You love your mother more than me?"

Evanthe merely giggled her arms tightening around his neck. "You're being silly again," she said shaking her head. "I love you very much." To cement her words, she kissed his cheek to which Eragon couldn't help but smile. He continued down the stairs with Evanthe in his arms when he reached the end, he turned to the hall on his left and continued down the long stretch of marble to the double doors at the end that swung outwards at his approach.

"Father?"

"Yes little one?"

"Do you think I can be a Rider like you and mother?" her eyes were serious and hopeful as she stared up at him. Eragon frowned slightly. He did not want Evanthe to be a Rider. He wanted her to have the freedom to do as she pleased without being dragged to the forefront of politics and whatnot. He did not want her to feel pressured to be anything but herself. Knowing Evanthe, however, he had a feeling his daughter would one day outshine both him and Arya. Children tended to do such. He was most afraid for that time to come.

"Perhaps," said Eragon uncertainly. He shifted her against his hip, "Why do you want to be one?"

"Because both you and mother and Uncle Murtagh and Aunt Ella are Riders," she insisted.

"And that does not mean that you have to be one," said Eragon softly as he kissed his daughter on her temple. "You do not have to prove anything Evanthe. Do not be afraid of simply being who you are. Never wish to be anyone else if you can live happily as Evanthe."

She seemed to contemplate his words and he was unsure if she understood or not but she nodded. Glad that that particular topic was out of the way, he continued their journey towards where Arya was teaching the students. Then suddenly, Evanthe spoke once more. "Father, can I have Blagden?"

"Blagden? You mean your grandmother's raven?" asked Eragon in surprise as he stared at his daughter incredulously. He could not imagine even trying to broach the subject with Queen Islanzadí. Of course she loved Evanthe but there was a limit to what her granddaughter could ask of her particularly when it came to Blagden. Though the raven appeared to be borderline asinine he was positive Islanzadí had a fond spot for the white bird. Evandar had gifted it and it had continued to serve Islanzadí after the late elf-king perished in battle. He cringed at the conversation if it were to ever take place. No, he could not ask Islanzadí to give Evanthe Blagden and nor did he want to. Blagden was irritating and Eragon was afraid one day he might end up skinning the raven to feed to Saphira or the wild dragons.

Evanthe nodded, "If I can't have a dragon can I have Blagden?"

Eragon blanched at her request and once more she was looking up at him with her large doe eyes and he fought to retain his reason. He was not going to get Blagden for her. If he did, he would have Islanzadí's wrath down on his head along with Arya's. "Blagden is your grandmother's raven, we can't take him from her," said Eragon as his daughter pouted sadly. He backtracked immediately trying to think of another solution. "Perhaps another animal, Evanthe? I can get you any other animal apart from Blagden."

Immediately, her expression brightened as she began to tell him the different animals she wanted. Never had she said that she wanted a common house pet like a dog or a cat. Instead, she began to tell him about the animals she'd read about or that she'd seen in her time spent with Blödhgarm and Rosalie or the other elves when Arya and Eragon were simply too busy to be with her. Eventually after she had listed all sorts of animals from wild wolves to eagles, they had decided to settle for a stallion for her—a white stallion. Now the only problem was finding one for Evanthe. What was more was that she insisted that her stallion be special like Blagden and practically pleaded with him to use his magic to transform the steed when he found one for her. She had insisted that he could do anything and never one to disappoint his daughter; he was roped into promising her such a stallion.

Eragon could only think of one thing as he neared the field where Arya was teaching the students in the art of magic. _Arya was not going to be happy with him. _

He inwardly sighed. He had promised not to spoil Evanthe too much. But what constituted too much? He thought that giving his daughter a stallion was perfectly acceptable for a parent. He saw nothing wrong with that. He was not going to back down on this one. Turning a corner the two of them emerged onto a large and wide field. On the field were seven students. In the last five years, two more students had joined them: Ella and Nyssa. His sister had become a Rider when Evanthe was only three years old. She had insisted to Murtagh that she be allowed to touch the egg that was given to humans and within a few days her dragon, Elessar, hatched for her. When the news reached Eragon he had been shocked. Even his younger sister fate would not relinquish, it angered him but he could do nothing about it.

What he did do was extend Ella's training more so than the other Riders under Murtagh. He did not want it to seem as if he favored his blood relation over his other students and as such, Ella had ended up studying under Murtagh for two years rather than one. He knew that his sister no doubt resented that particular decision of his but he did not. He and Murtagh had spoken of the arrangement for some time and the two of them could only agree that what they did was for the best. At the same time when Ella went to join Nyssa, an elf-maiden, had also been made a Rider. If the elves, who had had decades' worth of studying and experience could continue learning and training like the others, he was positive that Ella had the patience to weather one extra year no matter how unfair it may have seemed to her.

Stopping thirty yards away from the teaching, Eragon gestured with a nod of his head in the direction of Arya and the students. "There is your mother," said Eragon as Evanthe turned her head to study her mother with bright eyes. Eragon could only copy his daughter. Ever since Arya had given birth to Evanthe, there was a different aura about her. Despite her fierce nature, there was a gentle air to her at least when Eragon saw her, especially with Evanthe. She was so tender and affectionate without any reason to be with her daughter that it was endearing to watch.

"Can we move closer father?"

He was about to do as she asked but immediately backtracked when Arya drew Támerlein. They were starting their sparring lessons. She divided the students up into two pairs, the more experienced ones coming together while the less experienced were paired up. However, since there was an uneven number of students, that left one student out and that student was Ella. He watched worriedly as Arya rotated on the spot to face his younger sister as she pulled out her sparkling silver blade. "Not now," said Eragon as he moved to give the sparring students as well as Arya and Ella a wide berth so that they could practice together.

He shifted his daughter on his hip and lifted his hand to Arya to catch her attention. She paused, her eyes darting to him and Evanthe. At the sight of her mother's eyes on them, Evanthe raised her hand in a wave and Arya spared her a small smile before it quickly turned into a frown as Ella sprung forward. Though his sister was strong, Arya was faster than she was. She used her agility to dodge out of the way of any attack and when it was clear that Ella had an opening, Arya used it against her and within a few minutes had his sister on all fours, the edge of Támerlein against her neck, the warded blade resting coolly against her skin.

After watching a few more rounds of a frustrated Ella trying to land a hit on Arya, Eragon had decided that perhaps, Evanthe should not be watching her mother and aunt batter each other. "Are you hungry Evanthe?" he began to turn away from the scene but the moment he did his daughter shook her head and then gave him a look that was a mix between a glare and a plead. Sighing, he turned back to the match. Both females were prideful, almost too prideful. He was going to have to ask Rosalie if she could possibly translate what was going on before him. He wanted Ella and Arya to be on good terms but it didn't seem possible. Particularly in this case as he watched them spar. Arya seemed determined not to lose before her daughter while Ella appeared she wanted to prove something.

Eventually, Eragon had decided to place Evanthe on the ground seeing as she was squirming within his grasp to keep a close eye on her mother as she flitted about the field, her match with Ella spanning a hundred yards in diameter. He was careful to keep Evanthe far away from the fighting but it seemed as if they were moving closer and closer no matter how many paces he called his daughter to back away from the scene.

He watched as Ella, ran forward dodging out of the way as Arya twirled to meet her blade with her own. They missed each other only to circle about and with a furious clang their blades met. There was a flash of silver light as Ella's blade was knocked roughly out of her hand and it went sailing through the air. He watched the blade sail their way with enough momentum to severely cause damage. Watching as it sailed in his direction, Eragon easily plucked the sword from the air before it could fly past him.

"I think that perhaps it is time to call an end to the lessons today," said Eragon as both women turned to him. With long strides, he made his way towards Ella while Evanthe flitted to her mother's side telling her excitedly how she was in her match. Eragon merely smiled at their daughter as she hugged Arya's leg making it difficult for her to sheath Támerlein. Instead, he turned his eyes back to Ella and held her sword out to her which she took with a rather stiff expression. Even though his sister had been training under him and Arya for the past month, she was still having trouble adjusting it seemed. He could tell that she missed Alagaësia and those that she had left behind but it was something she was going to have to come to terms with herself. She had wanted to be a Rider and she was chosen.

"You fought well," said Eragon as she sheathed her sword.

"Not well enough," she said softly her blue eyes darting to Arya and Evanthe momentarily before rounding on him. "Why were you not teaching today?"

"I wanted to spend some time with Evanthe," said Eragon motioning to his and Arya's daughter and Ella's only niece. She nodded. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I have a few bruises but I can heal them later," said Ella brushing her chestnut hair from her face revealing the silver lining on her wrist momentarily before she lowered her hand. "The biggest wound would be to my pride."

"I can only imagine," said Eragon with a smile. "But it is only as it is. While you are strong in your own right, Arya has had a century to perfect her skills. It would be a wonder if you could land a hit on her. Murtagh was of the same when he first sparred with her. She'd beaten him black-and-blue."

At his words, his sister's lips twitched upwards. "And what of you?"

"Well, let us say that Arya was not used to losing," said Eragon as Arya walked towards them, Támerlein successfully sheathed on her hip while Evanthe held her hand walking beside her. He couldn't help it but he felt his heart soar at the sight of mother and daughter. While Arya was regal and dignified, her beauty incomparable to others, Evanthe on the other hand was innocent and radiant. Her beauty was unlike her mother's; there was a sweetness to Evanthe that made her seem to glow.

"You fought well Ella," said Arya as they stopped before them.

Ella's eyes darted from Arya to Evanthe, who was smiling up at her aunt, and nodded. "Thank you for your praise…Master…Arya." The words were awkward on her lips but she had to endure it all the same for Arya as was Eragon and Oromis was her teacher and she had to use the title with her like she had to do with Eragon. The formalities were painstaking but they were needed.

Arya nodded and gestured for Ella to rejoin the other students as they came to a stop in their sparring. Tomorrow, it would be Eragon's turn to teach them about several observations made by the Riders in the olden days. He was looking forward to it but he only hoped that Ella would not be so stiff and resentful. When Ella was out of earshot, Arya turned to him still holding their daughter's hand.

"Did she finish her lesson today?" asked Arya sternly. Eragon and Evanthe shared a look and his daughter appeared somewhat guilty at once more subjecting her father to her mother's scolding. But her emerald eyes were sparkling brightly as she watched her father flounder on the spot.

"Well, Evanthe already has a talented hand," Eragon tried to defend their daughter while Arya's brows furrowed. She had no doubt come to understand that he indeed did not enforce the lesson as strictly as she had asked of him. "There was no purpose to keep her doing the same process repeatedly. Once was good enough in my opinion."

Overhead, he heard the roars of the dragons and then their shadows blocked out the evening sun. He glanced up at the myriad of colors and he heard Evanthe gasped at the beauty of the image above them. The dragons had returned from their training looking both prideful and majestic. While Evanthe was distracted by the return of the dragons, Arya turned to him with hard eyes and a displeased expression. He cringed inwardly. He was in for it now.

Sighing quietly, he turned his eyes to their daughter as she stood with her head tilted back to stare up at the dragons, her emerald eyes sparkling in awe and he knew just how much she wanted to be a Rider then. There was nothing more beautiful than the flight of a dragon. Smiling at her, he reached up to place his hand on top of her head watching as her eyes flickered to him before they moved back to the sky. Least she wanted to be a Rider for a reason different from him or Arya. She was not needed to fight for freedom against an oppressor. She was not needed as a Rider at all. It was her choice whether or not she wanted to be and whatever she picked, he would support her.

"Stay here with Evanthe," said Arya as she began to move away, "I shall speak with the students before I dismiss them."

"Of course," said Eragon. He shot her a look over their daughter's head hoping she would understand his plight as a father. He just couldn't stand not giving their precious daughter what she wanted. And hadn't they agreed that they would love Evanthe unconditionally? Arya merely frowned at him before she sighed and with a light caress of her hand on Evanthe's shoulders, she moved away and towards the students.

From above, he felt a torrent of wind buffet him as Saphira alighted on the ground beside him. She turned her sparkling blue eyes to Evanthe before reaching out to gently touch her on her brow with her snout. _Good morning little one, _said Saphira affectionately while Evanthe laughed and sought to hug the sapphire dragon in greeting.

"Good morning Saphira," Evanthe greeted her with just as much affection. "How was your lesson?"

_Eventful, _said Saphira showing them an argument between one of her students and the wild dragons that lived outside of the city. _There was some threat to territory and for a moment I had thought a battle would ensue. But alas, it was merely all bark and no bite. _

Eragon snorted while Evanthe's smile widened as she stared up at the blue dragon that she absolutely adored. Perhaps more so than Eragon. Feeling his thoughts, Saphira turned to him. _Jealous Eragon? _She teased him gently.

_It is only because you can fly, _said Eragon. Her only response was to let a deep rumble form in her chest and Eragon knew she was laughing for a moment later she gave him a toothy smile. Then he reached out a stroked her snout. _Did you have an eventful day? _

_One could say that, _said Saphira blinking. _Teaching has certainly brought more surprises than I could remember in the past two decades…and it is simply amazing to see the dragons flourish once more. It has only been twenty-two years and yet the life we led before feels like a different one entirely. _

_It makes me speechless sometimes too, _said Eragon with a smile as he felt her feelings. Twenty-two years ago they were the dragon and Rider that served Galbatorix. They had gone through an entire lifetime it seemed to get to where they were today. Now, he had his own family. He had Arya, Evanthe, Saphira, Eridor, and their unhatched egg. He also had Murtagh, his parents, and Ella. He had come a long way indeed. They both did. The journey they started together was not an easy one but they had endured and they had won.

It was a glorious feeling.

_I know I do not say it often Saphira, _said Eragon as he stared at her deep azure irises feeling a wave of peace and contentment wash over him. _But I love you. _

_And I you, _Saphira replied just as affectionately. She turned her head and busied herself with Evanthe as the little elf girl scurried about her trying to tickle her.

"Sometimes I wonder whether or not she is more like you or me," Eragon turned to find Arya walking towards him with a smile on her face, when she was close enough, he reached forward to envelope her in his arms noticing that they were alone except for Eridor, Saphira, and Evanthe.

"I would hazard a guess and say that Evanthe is more like her mother," said Eragon as he reached forward to press his lips against Arya's glad that she didn't deny him. He was about to press deeper but her hands on his chest kept him at bay reminding him that not far off was their daughter.

"And I would say that she is far more like her father," said Arya her emerald eyes sparkling akin to the way her daughter's did. The only difference was that there was more depth to Arya's showing her age. "When I was younger I always finished my lessons no matter how tedious they could be."

"I will admit that Evanthe's lessons are tedious," said Eragon, he grinned, "But they are rather mundane for our daughter."

"Do not excuse your spoiling of our daughter," said Arya with a shake of her head but she did not pull away from his arms and instead turned to train her eyes on Evanthe, watching as she danced between Eridor and Saphira calling for them to catch her as best as they could.

After a moment, Eragon continued. "How was Ella in her lessons today?"

"Difficult," said Arya honestly causing Eragon to frown. She waved it away. "It is only because she is in a new environment. Give her some time and she will adapt perfectly well…and you can use this time to try and reacquaint yourself with your sister."

He grimaced at the word 'reacquaint' that only served to reinforce the fact that they were no better off than strangers who shared the same blood. But she was right; they had all the time in the world to work on their relationship. There was no need to rush.

"Mother! Father!" the two of them turned to stare down at Evanthe as she gripped their legs, tugging at the fabric of their clothes with excited eyes. "Can we fly with Saphira and Eridor?"

He and Arya shared a look and his mate extracted herself from him to place a hand on Evanthe's head, "I cannot see a reason as to not doing so," said Arya smiling as their daughter smiled brightly. Eragon wanted to point out that she was spoiling their daughter at that moment but was unable to say anything that might ruin the good atmosphere.

"Come Evanthe," said Eragon as he held out his hand to her. She wrapped her small fingers over his middle and forefinger and trailed behind him as he led the way to Saphira. Seeing as she was not wearing a saddle, he floundered on the spot for a moment before he glanced at Evanthe. It would be uncomfortable for her to ride without a saddle. But it was something that magic could not fix. Warding his daughter against the rubbing of the scales and whatnot, he reached down and gently lifted her up as Saphira crouched so that he could place her on her shoulder.

"Grab onto her spike little one," Eragon instructed her. Evanthe had gone flying with Eragon before. But she had always flown with him or Arya, in the safety of their arms. This time, he would let her fly by herself. Eventually, she would grow her own wings and he knew that giving her this moment would only help her find herself in the process.

"Will you not fly with me father?" she asked almost anxious when he made no move to climb onto Saphira's back with her. He shook his head.

"I shall fly with your mother," said Eragon watching as she blinked in trepidation. He smiled at her warmly and reached out with his hand to cup her face. "Do not worry Evanthe; if you fall we will be there to catch you. Just think of flying and let Saphira take you to the heights of the world for this world belongs to you."

"Do not be afraid," Arya said softly as she reached up to brush their daughter's hair back. "We will be beside you atop Eridor."

Evanthe stared at them for a moment before nodding, and just for extra care he placed another spell on his daughter to keep her from falling from Saphira's shoulder. Then warding himself and Arya, the two of them climbed atop Eridor, Arya situating herself between his legs. He glanced towards Evanthe. She nodded timidly to them and with a smile, Eragon called out to Saphira.

_Let us fly! _

Letting out a tremendous bellow, Saphira took flight and Eragon watched as Evanthe's grip on the spike before her tightened as the sapphire dragon climbed the skies and seconds later, Eridor joined her. He could see the fear in Evanthe's eyes as they climbed into the sky but when they leveled out side by side, and she turned to make sure that her parents were still beside her, that fear began to ebb away and when Saphira took flight about the city, he saw a beautiful and radiant joy fill their daughter's face.

_Perhaps one day she will be a Rider, _thought Eragon as he watched Evanthe. He could only hope that day would be far off for the moment she did become one, if she did, Evanthe would no longer be a young child that came running to her mother and father. She would be independent, strong, and intelligent and most of all she would have her own wings to fly wherever it was that she wanted. She would no longer need him to help her. He felt Arya squeeze his hand and smiled. _But that time will be far off. She is only five after all. _

And so they flew. Though Eragon admired the scenery, he only had eyes for his daughter as she laughed with joy at the sights before her. They circled the city three times before Saphira had veered off towards the large lake, descending until she flew just above the water to let Evanthe take in the sparkling surface of the lake. Then she pulled up and began to flying high above in the sky. They followed her and like Eragon had promised, he and Arya flew close by to the two and when Evanthe ever had any doubts of where they were she merely had to glance to her left.

He had never thought he would enjoy seeing his daughter fly so much but he did. However, he did nearly have a heart attack when Saphira took a steep plunge looking like she might hit the ground before she pulled up, earning more laughter from Evanthe while Eragon merely growled.

_I would never crash with your little one, _said Saphira as she circled about the forest near the city where the dragons hunted for food if there was not enough livestock for them to feed on in the city. Eragon merely grunted in response. They flew for another ten minutes before Saphira landed on the outskirts of the lake so that she could drink. Eridor landed beside her and moved to stand near her as he dipped his head forward nudging her head as he did so.

_Play nice, _said Eragon as he and Arya slid from his back.

_Of course, _Eridor returned jokingly.

"How did you like your first flight by yourself?" asked Arya as Evanthe came running towards them, her short legs carrying her as fast as she could go. She immediately hugged Eragon about the waist; one hand coming up to grip her mother's to pull them into the group hug.

"It was amazing," she said happily, her emerald eyes bright showing her excitement. "I want a dragon too! I want to be a Rider!"

"Remember what I said Evanthe," said Eragon, "I will find you a horse first and then we can think about you becoming a Rider."

"But I can?" asked Evanthe hugging him tightly as Arya raised a brow at his words.

"If you have potential, you will have to work hard though," said Eragon watching as she nodded brightly. Meanwhile, Arya mouthed to him, _horse? _He cringed and she sighed quietly understanding what it was that he had said before shaking her head in exasperation. It wasn't his fault their daughter was so adorable!

"Let us take a walk and let the dragons rest for a moment," said Arya as she took Evanthe by one hand and Eragon took her other. They began to walk away from the dragons towards the outskirt of the forest on their left. Evanthe oftentimes tried to swing from their hands and they would indulge her, laughing when she tried to do a flip.

"You will master it when you are older," Arya reassured her when she could not manage.

"But you can do it mother," said Evanthe with a frown.

"Because I am older," said Arya easily showing her logic to their daughter. "I will teach you one day if you wish to learn."

She nodded and they continued to walk with Evanthe often chattering about without a care in the world and Eragon would have it no other way. He did not want his daughter to grow up somber and worried about her reality. He wanted her to live in this dream-like state that her innocence provided for her and the fact that they were away from Alagaësia helped to keep her unaware. It was only temporary but he wished he could see Evanthe like this every day for her sweet smile was so beautiful. He did not want her to be the resentful child he was nor the child that sought her father's revenge like Arya. He wanted her to be happy and he knew that in this moment she was.

They continued walking and he blinked, his free hand instantly flying to Vrangr when Evanthe gasped. Arya exchanged a worried glance with him before turning her attention back to their daughter, "What is it Evanthe?"

"That wolf…"

_Wolf? _

Eragon turned and immediately caught sight of what she was saying. Lying on the outskirts of the forest was a dying wolf. It was not dying from a wound or such but rather from old age. He wanted to turn Evanthe away from the sight but she pulled them forward. "Heal it father," she told him as they reached the dying wolf's side. It turned its amber eyes on them but did not rise from its position for it lacked the strength to do so. Instead it merely whined at them and Eragon watched as Evanthe withdrew her hand from theirs and made her way to the wolf before crouching on the ground beside it and reaching out with her hand to stroke its fur.

When Eragon made no move to heal it, she turned to him in confusion. "Father?"

"I cannot undo time Evanthe," said Eragon gently as he crouched beside her, Arya lowering herself to the ground on Evanthe's other side. He reached out to stroke her long and dark hair. "As much as I want to help it, it is its time."

"Is it…is it dying?" Evanthe asked quietly and Eragon winced inwardly at the word she used. She was too young to understand what death was and he didn't want her to fully comprehend it yet.

"No," said Eragon softly and Arya shot him a look but he paved on, "It is merely returning to the land."

"Returning?"

He nodded, smiling gently at Evanthe as her verdant eyes returned to the wolf. She continued to stroke its fur as it heaved in deep breaths. "When we are born, we are born to the land," Eragon said softly letting his fingers run through her hair. "We live our days out and eventually we will have to return to whence we came. It is true of all things Evanthe."

She did not say anything but continued to stroke the wolf's fur until it let forth its last breath, its eyes closing and its breathing stilling. Did she really understand death? Eragon could only watch the sadness in his daughter's eye and knew that even though she was staring at it right in the face, she did not truly understand what death entailed. And he was glad.

"So it is not called dying?" asked Evanthe her eyes shining up at them brightly. Eragon shook his head catching Arya's eyes before he smiled at Evanthe.

He had once thought it was called death too.

But if one thought of it, it really wasn't death. They were born to the land and from the land they lived. There were those who ate the plants the ground gave life to and then there were hunters who ate those that ate the plants. And when those hunters died, their bodies returned to the ground and their spirits with the land. It was not dying. It was merely a borrowing of time and then a returning to the greater whole. He thought of his own life and how he had borrowed from others. He had borrowed their strengths, hopes, and love to find his own. And when he had found them, he had returned theirs. He had fought against the death and the desperation for a world that he could give to their daughter. He had fought for this world and now it was hers.

His eyes wandered to Saphira and Eridor watching as they drank together and a deep welling of emotions overcame him in that moment. Saphira, who had allowed him to borrow her wings, only so that he could grow his own. He turned to Arya and she smiled at him. Arya, who had given him her love, so that he could find love in himself. She had given him half of her soul so that he could find his own once more. Then his eyes turned to Evanthe's and he smiled at her watching as her red lips parted as she began to smile back up at him. With a hand, Eragon reached out to take Arya's while his other remained on Evanthe's head.

"No, it is not called dying nor death," said Eragon as his eyes flickered to the wolf before taking in their surroundings. The world was so large and now Evanthe would inherit it. He had done what he could and he would continue to do so until his daughter was ready to grow wings of her own and make what she will of her own life.

His eyes darted to the emerald eyes of the person whom he loved dearly before they rested on the matching ones that shined up at him with such youth and innocence that he could not help but wish to cement time as it was. He loved Evanthe and would continue to love and cherish his daughter with Arya. Until the ends of the earth—the end of time alongside Arya and Saphira and his loved ones.

"It is called the Inheritance Cycle."

**And that is the end of Reversed Life, the rewrite of the end of Eragon up to the end of Inheritance and then some. It feels odd to say that it is the end since I've been mentioning for a while that the story is finally going to come to a close. Notice I did not put "THE END" right after. I'm keeping this open to the possibilities of a sequel but that will probably not happen in some time. In any case, this has been some ride. This is no doubt the longest story in the IC section of FF I believe (112 chapters). A lot has happened in this and it makes me sad to know that I will no longer be writing about Eragon and Arya in this story anymore. I have always loved doing ExA moments in Reversed Life. But there will definitely be opportunities to write more ExA I believe.**

**Evanthe: Why did I name her Evanthe? Her name means many things that pertain to Eragon and Arya. Evanthe in Greek means "Fair Flower" and to ExA, Evanthe is a flower and in her life she will blossom into something greater. Also, "anthe" stands for flower while "Eva" is in honor of Evandar. And if you all know your moons, there is a moon named "anthe" and so if you think about it, a flower and a moon represented Eragon and Arya's love and so it also represents their daughter, Evanthe. And that is why I choose this name. **

**Thanks: I would like to thank all of you readers and reviewers for taking time out of your day to read over this story. To those that find it in their time to review almost every chapter to motivate me to keep writing, thank you. And to those who have added this to their fave or follow list, thank you. Honestly, if it weren't for you all I would have abandoned this story long ago and it's all thanks to you that I've made it this far. Thank you and I hope this story has been worth it for all of you. **

**New IC FF— I am already working on the first chapter of the new IC project of mine. It will be a spin-off to this story but it will not be a sequel. I repeat, it will not be a sequel. I plan on writing a Time Travel IC story of ExA. Mostly it will be with Eragon as he is during the final battle sent back in time due to some magical workings (will be touched on in the new story). I have not upload it but I will within the next week or so. If you're interested just pay attention to my profile for any updates. Or you can search this title To Move Forward.**

**Final A/N: I hope that this story has been as fun to read as it was to write for you all. And I also hope that you were able to understand the difficulties that Eragon and Arya faced and were able to-on some level-relate to them. And I also hope this story helped to fill the some of the emptiness left behind by Inheritance and was in turn able to portray the epic romance between Eragon and Arya. I want you all to know that I had enjoyed writing this story very much and I'm glad that you have all come to read it and enjoy it as well. If you have any last thoughts don't forget to review since this is the last chapter. I am proud to say that Reversed Life is finished and I hope to see you all again soon. **


End file.
